Chapter 13
Paisley woke with a start, gasping for air as the hands around her throat squeezed tighter. Panic flared bright—and then settled when she took in her surroundings.
It was morning. Her room. The sun peeked through the blinds. And Violet was curled up beside her, arms around Paisley’s neck.
Paisley took a moment to breathe and settle her racing heart. In for a count of eight, out on a count of eight. In, out. In, out.
Violet murmured in her sleep and then turned over.
She must have crept into the room at some point during the night.
It still happened a lot, though not as often as it had in the days when they’d first left Trey.
One thing he would never allow was for Violet to get into bed with them.
Or for Paisley to go and sleep in her daughter’s room.
When they’d gotten free of him, Paisley didn’t say no when Violet was scared and needed her. Maybe it was the start of a bad habit, but she’d deal with that bridge when she had to cross it. For now her baby needed her and Paisley wasn’t saying no.
She waited to make sure Violet didn’t wake before easing herself from the bed and tucking the covers around her child.
She went into the bathroom, brushed her teeth, and threw on a bra beneath her pajamas since Ethan was asleep on the couch. She still couldn’t believe she’d let him talk her into staying over, but she had to admit she’d slept better than she did when it was just her and Violet.
Other than the rude awakening she’d had when she’d been dreaming that someone was strangling her, it’d been a restful night. Usually she woke up a few times, her heart racing.
But not last night.
That in itself was worth the awkwardness of having the man she’d once loved—the man who had a fifty-fifty shot of being Violet’s father—only a few feet away in her living room.
Her stomach fell at the thought of Ethan being Violet’s father. Not because she didn’t want him to be, but because of how painful it would be to think about all they’d lost. Hell, it was already painful. But if Violet was truly his?
She squeezed her eyes shut. God.
Should she tell him there was a chance? Or should she let him continue thinking Violet was Trey’s because it was easier?
She’d thought he would ask at some point once he thought about the fact Violet was barely four, but he hadn’t.
Either he wasn’t doing the math or he didn’t care that she could be his because he didn’t intend to let it change anything about his life.
But was he acting like a man who didn’t care?
No, he wasn’t. He made sure Violet got to see fireworks, ride a pony, and pet a goat. He’d personally led her around on the pony, and he’d made her laugh.
And now he was here, in Paisley’s home, because he’d promised to keep her and Violet safe. Those weren’t the actions of a man who didn’t care.
Which meant he wasn’t really thinking about Violet’s age and the implications. He thought she was Trey’s, and he still treated her better than Trey ever had. With more kindness, understanding, and patience, which was something Trey lacked.
Violet might go through life without a father, but no father was better than a terrible one.
Paisley hadn’t known her own father because Bree hadn’t been married to him.
Whenever Paisley had asked questions, she’d been shut down.
Bree had told her it was just the two of them, and they would be fine.
And they had been.
To this day, Paisley didn’t know if her father had been a good man or a bad one. She certainly didn’t want a nomadic life for her child like she’d had, but she also knew Violet didn’t have to have a father to grow into a healthy and well-adjusted human being.
No father was better than the man who legally filled that role. That was a fact.
Paisley decided to go fix coffee and then sit on the back porch where it was shaded before it grew too hot. It was early enough to still be tolerable, but she always woke early. Even on weekends.
The second she opened her bedroom door, the scent of roasted coffee filled the air.
Ethan had beat her to it. She remembered mornings with him years ago when he’d make coffee and then carry it to her in bed.
He’d kiss her forehead, murmur sweet words, and wait for her to prop herself on the pillows before he handed her the steaming mug.
“Morning,” she said as she walked into the sunny kitchen.
Ethan looked up from his study of the refrigerator’s contents. His gaze skimmed her body, and she found herself warming beneath it. “Morning. You sleep okay?”
“Yes, thanks. You?”
She’d been worried about how the couch would work out for him, but he’d told her last night that even the lumpiest couch beat some of the places he’d had to bed down on missions.
“Slept fine.”
“The couch wasn’t too bad?”
“I put the sleeping bag on the floor. Couch is too short.”
Well of course it was. But the floor? “Wasn’t it hard?”
“Nah, got a pad for the bag. It’s good.”
Paisley sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He nodded at the fridge. “Want me to scramble some eggs with cheese? We could make some toast to go with it. I’ll pick up more eggs and bread at the Piggly Wiggly later, a few other things too.”
“You don’t have to get any groceries. The least I can do is feed you.”
“You told me money’s tight, Payz. It’s not tight for me, and I want to get some groceries since I’ll be here for a couple of nights. Now you want those eggs or what?”
“I feel like I should tell you to sit down so I can cook, but I won’t say no. It’s nice to have somebody cook for me for a change.”
He took out the carton of eggs and set them on the counter. Then he grabbed a bag of shredded cheese and the butter. “Consider it done.”
She retrieved a bowl for the eggs, found a whisk, and took out plates and flatware. Ethan cracked the eggs and whisked them into the bowl.
“Should I make enough for Violet? Or wait until later when she’s awake?”
Paisley’s heart squeezed at the care he showed her daughter. “She’ll sleep for another hour at least. Best to wait.”
“Gotcha.” He turned on the gas and then whipped the eggs with a little milk, salt, and pepper.
Paisley put bread in the toaster. A few minutes later, they were sitting down in the breakfast nook with plates of cheesy eggs, buttered toast, and coffee.
It was companionable and strange at the same time.
“Thanks again for last night. I know Violet’s going to chatter nonstop about it when she wakes up.”
He grinned as he saluted her with his toast. “You’re welcome. It was easy to make her smile, so why not?”
“Still, you didn’t have to. It would be easier to avoid us, I imagine.”
“It would be, but that’s not how I operate.
” He frowned as he chewed. “I’ve lived through a lot, seen a lot, and done things I’d like to forget.
But life is messy and complicated, and I believe that helping people is the right thing to do.
Even if I didn’t know you, didn’t know Trey, I’d have shown up on your doorstep to talk you into a security system once I knew you were being threatened by your ex. ”
“I believe you would have.”
Because Ethan was a good man. She’d wondered, after she’d been with Trey for a while and discovered what kind of man he was, if her instincts had always been so wrong. If Ethan wouldn’t have been any better, even if he’d only made her feel butterflies and giddiness when she’d known him.
She’d never had giddiness with Trey. She’d never even thought she had. What she’d had with Trey, she saw now, was a shared grievance—Ethan.
Her grievance had been about being discarded like yesterday’s trash and then finding out she was pregnant.
She hadn’t been certain who the father was, but she’d nursed her grudge against Ethan for abandoning her and the baby anyway.
Trey’s grievance had seemed to be Ethan himself.
He’d certainly said all the right things, coddled her and told her she deserved better.
He’d fed her grudge for months, until she’d married him, and then he’d changed. Became angry and distant. Mean.
Sitting across the breakfast table from Ethan nearly five years later, she knew she hadn’t been wrong about him. Trey had been kind to her, but not really. She’d mistaken his attention and shoulder to cry on for kindness when it wasn’t.
“My plan, if you were wondering, is to get started adding the window and door sensors today,” Ethan said.
“I’ve got some other equipment to pick up, but I can start the project.
Since I’m not cutting holes in walls to feed line, I’ll have to get creative.
Everything should be up and running by Monday so you can have your house back. ”
“Thank you. Though I think it’d be better to say you can get your bed back and not have to sleep on the floor.”
“That, too. But the sleeping bag and pad are comfortable. Like camping, but without bugs.”
Paisley smiled. Then she fiddled with her coffee cup as silence descended.
Once, she’d have known what to say to this man.
She’d never tired of talking to him back then.
She took a bite of eggs as he picked up his phone to look at something.
When he put it down again, she said the first thing that popped to mind.
“You never got married?”
“No, I never did.”
“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine. Truth is I never met anyone I wanted to marry. Came close once, but it didn’t work out.”
Her heart pinched tight. It was jealousy and relief and probably a million other things she had no right to feel.
“I really shouldn’t have asked.”
He leveled a look at her. “I’d be asking the same thing if the situation was reversed. It’s understandable. But I lead the kind of life that’s always been difficult on relationships. Nobody ever stuck.”
“You said it almost happened once…”
“I did, didn’t I?” He sipped the coffee and studied something across the room. Then his gaze slid back to hers. “You can’t figure it out, Payz?”
Her stomach dropped. Her fingers suddenly shook where she held her cup. “You mean me. Us.”
Gold-green eyes held hers steadily. “Yeah.”
There were so many things she wanted to say. But none of them would fix the heartache. For either of them.
Her gaze dropped to her coffee. She hated that she didn’t know the right thing to say sometimes.
She’d always been like this, always retreated into herself when she didn’t know how to respond.
Some people thought she was conceited, but no, she just didn’t want to open her mouth and prove that she was an idiot.
The doorbell buzzed and she jumped, nearly spilling hot coffee on her pajamas. Her heart pounded as she jumped to her feet. Ethan put a hand out, caught her wrist before she could walk past him. It was a gentle touch, but she reacted instinctively, shrinking away. He let her go as he stood.
“It’s okay. Just let me get it.” He held up both hands as if to show her where they were. “I’m sorry I touched you.”
She didn’t want him to be sorry. It felt wrong. “You surprised me. That’s all. I know you aren’t going to hurt me.”
The doorbell buzzed again but their gazes remained locked. Then, very gently, Ethan skimmed the back of a finger over her cheek. “Good, because I never would. I’d hurt myself first.”
He dropped his hand and strode away. She drifted after him, arms folded over her chest protectively, skin tingling where he’d touched her. Tears stung in the corners of her eyes but she didn’t let them fall. Being here now, with him, felt like an alternative universe. And it was torture.
Ethan peered out the window. Then he opened the door just enough to reveal her visitor. Not enough to invite her in, though. Colleen Wright was clad in a black caftan, her gray hair thick and loose as it fell to her shoulders in a stylish bob.
“Oh my,” she said, her gaze drifting up Ethan’s big form taking up all the space in the entry before moving past him to land on Paisley.
Her skin heated at the certainty in that look. She wanted to explain, but didn’t. “Hi, Mrs. Wright. What can I do for you today?”
Colleen glanced at Ethan again before fixing her gaze on Paisley. “My dear, I have come prepared.” She held up a thick wad of leaves that resembled a fat cigar. A closer look revealed the leaves were bound together with string. Not a cigar then.
“I beg your pardon, but prepared for what?”
“To smudge your house, of course. The spirits are angry at the abomination visited upon your front door.”
Colleen’s gaze slid sideways and then back. With a muttered curse, Ethan yanked the door completely open.
Dark red streaks coated the wood from top to bottom. Spatters of it stained the rug she’d bought at the hardware store. It said Welcome and featured a bouquet of sunflowers. She’d loved it immediately and spent fifteen dollars even though she probably should have spent it elsewhere.
Ethan swore as Paisley stared, her mind not wanting to process the damage. Fixating on the rug and how much she loved it instead.
Until a wave of nausea threatened as she continued to stare at the red streaking her door and splattering across her rug.
“Oh my God—is that blood?”