CHAPTER THIRTY
Rory
Mom
Dinner on Sunday, Capisce, 8 p.m.
I read the message and my stomach sinks. There’s been zero contact between us since the blow-up at dinner almost three weeks ago, or in the two weeks since I moved out. Now this. Does she really think I’ll drop everything when summoned?
“Ugh,” I groan, sliding my phone across the marble counter and reaching for my cup of coffee. I don’t know how Breck makes better coffee than anyone else, but he does. I may never go to a coffee shop ever again, or at least not until he leaves… in less than a month.
“What’s up, Roars?” Breck’s smooth, sexy accent comes from behind me, and I throw a little glare over my shoulder at him. He throws his hands up. “Whoa. Was it the nickname or are we just that cranky before coffee?”
“Both. I hate that nickname.”
“Ah, come on, you’re telling me you hate it when Wes calls you Roars?” I roll my eyes like a petulant teenager and Breck laughs. “Maybe I’ll keep calling you that, especially if it gets this reaction.”
“Don’t you freaking dare. That one is reserved for annoying older brothers, and you’re not mine.”
“No, I certainly am not,” he says, voice lowering to a husk I can all but feel against my skin. There’s warmth spreading behind his eyes too, a dark desire flooding his blue irises, making everything within me tighten with anticipation. There should be no anticipation as there’s nothing to anticipate. Not anymore. Since Willow’s birthday, we haven’t so much as touched each other. But that doesn’t mean the attraction, the pull between us, is somehow less.
“Morning,” comes Willow’s sleepy voice.
“Morning, Bug. Coffee?” I ask, like it’s totally normal to offer coffee to an eight-year-old.
“Eww, gross. Dad says it’ll stunt my growth,” she grumbles.
“I was kidding.” I laugh and ruffle her hair, and then look back to her dad, all heat and longing gone from his features. “Really, Breck? You told her it would stunt her growth? She’s already taller than most kids her age. I think she’s just fine.”
“That’s because I don’t let her have caffeine,” he jokes. Then, looking at Willow, he says, “Ready to round out your first week of school?”
She shrugs and mumbles something that sounds like “whatever” while she scrounges around in the fridge for the milk.
Breck and I exchange an exasperated look. This week has been a challenge.
On top of them starting school on Monday—which has given him a new appreciation for educators everywhere—he also had to address the call from Talia. That conversation was fraught with tears and anger, a likely months-long buildup finally surfacing. Understandably, Willow’s been moodier than normal this week, and we’ve been doing our best to take it in stride.
But she’s not the only one dealing with extra stress. In addition to school with Willow, Breck’s week has been filled with communication from the new owners of Adventure Chasers—who reached out to him after their unproductive meeting with Talia and Drew. Turns out Breck’s the only person who could actually answer their questions. He doesn’t want to see the company struggle, but it’s pulling him into the stress of a business he thought he was done with.
I’m doing what I can to help around the house and with Willow, but it was a busy week at work for me too. We’re all on edge and I’m glad it’s Friday. We could all use a break.
Over his coffee, Breck asks, “What about you, Rory, what do you have on the docket today?”
“I’ve got to work in the office this morning for a while, but…” I grin mischievously and turn to Willow. “I thought we could do something fun this afternoon to celebrate your first week of homeschool.” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “Want to go sledding?”
I probably should’ve clued Breck into my plan, but it’s too late now. Willow’s sullen demeanor instantly morphs into one of excitement.
“Can we, Daddy? Please!”
“Absolutely. That sounds like a perfect plan. What time will you finish up at work?” Breck smiles at me, relieved.
“Probably around one.”
“That’s perfect. Think we can get all your schoolwork done by lunchtime today, Willow Bear?” he asks her, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes! Can we start now?” she exclaims, running over to the kitchen table that’s laden with all her school stuff.
I lift my coffee cup in a salute as he walks backward toward the table. This is exactly the incentive he needed to get them through another day. Hopefully it’ll get us all out of the funk of the week.
I’ve fallen into a scene from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation , and I realize I might’ve made a grave mistake in letting Breck give me a running shove down the sledding hill. I’m screaming, the wind whipping my hair around my face despite my pigtail braids and beanie. The braids were at Willow’s insistence. I’m usually a single braid kind of gal, but she wanted to match, and I couldn’t say no to her. Just like I can’t say no to her father, who I can hear, laughing , over my terror-filled yells.
My sled finally slows to a stop—much farther along the flats than anyone else has gone—and I roll myself off the thing and into the snow, breathing hard. I stare up at the trees that surround the clearing and inhale the smell of fresh snow and pine.
There’s a delighted shriek and a whoop from up the hill, and I decide to wait here until Breck and Willow come to a stop. My arms and legs move, swiping up and down, in and out, creating a perfect snow angel where I lie in wait. The shriek is now a giggle and there’s a boisterous laugh that complements it. Both are drawing closer, and with the sound of boots on snow, I look up into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes, surrounded by a halo of dampened, messy blond waves.
Breck stands over me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. His smile is pushing his dimples into sharp relief, and even from my upside-down angle, nothing about it could be misconstrued as a frown. We have only a second, lost in each other this way, before a tinier version of his face stares down at me as well.
“You went so fast, Rory!” Willow exclaims, her expression gleeful.
“I know,” I grumble, trying and failing to keep the grin off my face. “It sounded like you had a much more…” I pause, looking for the right word. “… enjoyable ride down the hill with your dad.” I try to glare at him, but it’s impossible to even pretend I’m mad when that was such a rush.
“I wanna make a snow angel like you.” Willow plops down next to me, swishing her arms and legs in earnest. “You make one too, Dad.” She lifts her head off the snow, her bear ears standing up on her hat, and I stifle a giggle at the crease that splits his brow.
“I’ve never understood the point of snow angels,” Breck murmurs, groaning as he lowers himself to the ground on my other side. “Why does anyone want to lie in the snow and purposely make themselves wet and cold?”
“Because it’s magical.” The words slip out at the same time my fingers brush against his. The current of electricity between us heightens with each touch.
On the next pass, Breck’s fingers catch mine. Holding my gloved hand in his, our eyes lock on each other while Willow continues to swish her arms and legs beside me.
“I guess it is,” he whispers.
I swallow, or try to, but my breath catches in my lungs—in my throat. The urge to say something is impossibly heavy in my chest. This moment is magical, with him, with Willow. I’ve never felt this connected to another person.
“I’m ready to go again.” Willow pops up and Breck releases his grip on my hand—and on my heart. “Daddy, you drag the sleds up the hill, okay? This time I’m going by myself. You can go with Rory.”
There’s a renewed mischief in his eyes when he stands, and I wonder what on earth I’ve gotten myself into with this man.
I lose count of the number of times we fly down the sledding hill. Sometimes it’s me by myself on the saucer—though I never let Breck push me again—while the two of them take the sled. Other times, it’s me and Willow in the sled while Breck takes a running start to launch himself down the mountain. My favorites, though, are when Willow is dead-set on going down solo and I find myself nestled between Breck’s firm thighs, back pressed against his chest, his raspy voice whispering in my ear as we soar down the hill.
By the time we’re done, the sun is setting, the temperature’s dropping, and our energy’s fading, but we’re all smiles on the walk back to the car. The sullenness of this morning is long gone, replaced by Willow’s typical bubbly demeanor, and I can tell we all feel less burdened.
Breck grabs my hand after we’ve finished loading the sleds into the back of my car. “Thank you. We needed this.”
I brush my thumb over the top of his. “Today was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Yeah, me too.” His face softens and there’s something I can’t read behind his expression.
Breck has never asked for anything from me, and I haven’t asked for anything from him, but it’s getting harder and harder not to want to give him more of myself than I’ve ever offered anyone else.