Chapter 6
Chapter Six
“ I want a chapter from Mr. Popper’s Penguins, ” Maddie announced from the backseat.
Holt watched as Cayla unhooked the five-point harness on the car seat. “We didn’t remember to bring it home from Mimi’s house, Munchkin.”
“But you promised, Mama!” A thread of whine crept into her voice.
Though it had been years, Holt recognized the signs of an overtired kid. And no wonder. After their whirlwind surprise wedding, they’d gone out for a celebratory dinner in Johnson City, followed by the promised chocolate cake. With the hour’s drive home, Maddie was crashing on every level. The sigh Cayla tried to muffle told him she wasn’t far behind.
“Maddie—”
“I want Holt.”
Surprise flashed across Cayla’s face before she backed away from the car and made an after you gesture.
Holt bent to scoop Maddie up. “You had a really big day, kiddo. And a gigantic piece of cake.”
Traces of that cake still streaked one baby-soft cheek.
“I love cake.”
He chuckled, following Cayla into the house. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yeah.”
“My chocolate cake is better.”
Maddie’s eyes took on an avaricious gleam. “Will you make me one?”
“On two conditions. One, that you do bath and bed without a fuss tonight. And two, that your mom says it’s okay.”
Maddie folded her hands into prayer position and twisted in his arms toward her mother. “Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease!”
Cayla met his gaze, brows up. “We’ll see how you do with bath and bed, and go from there. I’m gonna start the water. Go pick out your jammies.”
When she wriggled, he put her down, and she went racing down the hall, presumably to her room.
“Bribery?” Cayla asked.
“It’s a classic kid negotiation tactic for a reason. And I did give you full veto rights.”
“Smart. You should know that this child is a chocolate fiend. She will do almost anything for Nutella, so use the big guns wisely.”
“Understood. While you get her squared away, I’m gonna go grab my bag.”
Cayla stared at him for a long moment, clearly only just really absorbing the fact that he’d be living here starting tonight, before nodding and disappearing into the hall bathroom to turn on the water. The day was catching up to them both.
Brax had driven the 4-Runner over, parking it in Cayla’s garage before they’d left for the wedding. Holt snagged his duffel from the back and carried it into the house. It was his first real look at the place. He’d never been inside before, and now it would be home. At least for a while.
Just down the street from Mia and Brax’s place—at least until they finished the renovation on their dream house further up the mountain—the little bungalow sat on a tidy little lot. The whole place was maybe twelve or thirteen hundred square feet. She’d painted the walls a warm neutral. The kitchen had been done up farmhouse style, with gray green cabinets and butcher-block-style laminate. A round pedestal table and chairs had been painted to match. The living room was full of a comfortable hodgepodge of furniture, including generous baskets that were clearly intended to hold Maddie’s plethora of toys and stuffed animals, which were scattered all over. Not knowing if there was a guest room or if he’d be on the sofa, Holt dumped his bag and made a pass through the room to tidy up, figuring it would keep his hands busy and was one less thing Cayla would have to do.
His leg ached from the long day, and he was beyond ready to remove his prosthesis, but that wasn’t something he’d be doing out in the open. Cool as Maddie had been when she’d seen it, he didn’t want to frighten her by taking it off. And he wasn’t exactly excited about doing so in front of Cayla, either. Knowing he was an amputee was one thing. Seeing the scarred ugliness of his stump was something else entirely. She didn’t need that in her head.
“Time for bed, Munchkin. Say goodnight to Holt.”
She came scampering in, wearing Minnie Mouse pajamas, the ends of her downy soft hair curling from the damp. With dramatic enthusiasm, she threw her arms around his leg—the good one, thank God—and craned her head to look up at him. “I gotta go to bed.”
“Me, too,” he announced.
“Will you tuck me in?”
Something soft and warm lodged itself in his chest. “You want me to?”
“Yeah.” She grabbed his hand and started towing him toward the hall.
Cayla stood staring. “You picked up.”
He looked around at the neater room. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Is that a problem? Was that supposed to be her job?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s… thoughtful. Thank you.”
“C’mon! I wanna show you my room.”
Her room was an explosion of purple and plush. More stuffed animals than he’d ever seen in his life were scattered over the bed and floor. A net was suspended from one corner, containing even more plushies. Hadley would have had a coronary of pure delight as a kid for all of these.
“Wow.”
Maddie bounced onto the bed, diving beneath the covers. Cayla moved in, arranging her menagerie until the little girl was just one sleepy face peeking out. She brushed a kiss over Maddie’s cheek. “Goodnight, Munchkin.”
“Night, Mama.”
Holt stood in the doorway, feeling his chest go tight as he watched the exchange. His mom had never done this. He’d been the one to check Hadley’s room for monsters under the bed and in the closet. The one to tuck her in like a burrito so she felt safe enough to sleep. The one to curl up on the floor when she had nightmares.
He jolted as Maddie bolted upright. “Wait! I need Sven!”
Even though he had no idea which stuffie was Sven, Holt looked around. Spotting the reindeer from Frozen on the floor at the foot of the bed, he scooped it up. “This guy?”
“Yeah!” She made grabby hands. “Can I have a bedtime song?”
“A bedtime song?”
“Since I’m not getting a story.”
“I don’t know. What do you think, Sven?” Holt looked at the reindeer, tilting his ear to mime listening to the animal’s reply. “Hmm. Okay, I think we can do that.”
He cleared his throat and launched into “Reindeer(s) Are Better Than People.” Moving closer to the bed, he danced the stuffed animal as he dialed in the voice for its part. Maddie was giggling by the end, wrapping her arms around Sven and tipping her face up for a kiss. He brushed his lips across her brow, lingering for a moment to absorb the scent of bubblegum shampoo and sweetness.
“Don’t let the frostbite bite, kid. Goodnight.”
Cayla wasn’t in the doorway when he turned. The nightlight was on, so he pulled the door until it was just barely ajar and went in search of her. She was down the hall in what he presumed was the master bedroom. It was bright and sunny, as she was, with whitewashed furniture and a very girly floral bedspread. She stood in bare feet at the dresser, still in her dress, looking beautiful and also a little sad as she opened a drawer and scooped out a stack of clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“Making some room for your stuff.”
Her gait was a little jerky as she piled clothes in the chair. The moment her hands were empty, they shook. For all her miraculous capacity to roll with things, all the potential ramifications of the day were obviously starting to hit her.
He moved into the room, sliding between her and the dresser and clasping her trembling hands when she reached for another drawer. “It can wait.”
Her throat worked. “Okay.”
Stepping back, she moved to the door, swinging it closed and turning the lock. The moment her hands went to the tie at her waist, it struck him. This was his wife . And she’d apparently resigned herself to doing her marital duty.
Crossing to her in three strides, he stayed her hands. “Don’t.”
“It’s our wedding night. Such as it is.”
Because she didn’t meet his eyes, he cupped her cheek, wanting to put her at ease. “We both know this isn’t a typical marriage. You didn’t choose this because you wanted it. You’re doing it to protect your daughter. I’m doing it to protect you both. I don’t have any expectations here. If we go to bed together eventually, it’ll be because you choose it. Because you want me. And if you don’t choose that, it’s completely okay. You’re calling the shots here. Either way, you’ve been through way too much today, and you need to get some rest.”
A potent mix of confusion and relief and something he almost thought was regret swam into her eyes. But she dropped her hands. “We should probably discuss the rest of the details and parameters of all this. There’s a lot we left unspoken.”
“We will. After you’ve slept. Is there a guest room?”
“No. I’m sorry. We don’t have overnight guests often. Or… ever.”
Well, he’d slept under worse conditions.
Because his hands itched to replace hers and tug at that pale pink knot to find what lay beneath, he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead, much as he’d done to Maddie. “I’ll be on the sofa.”
Before anything else could override his better judgement, he stepped around her and quietly walked out, closing the door behind him.
She’d forgotten to set up the coffee before bed. Wishing desperately for one of those replicator machines from Star Trek , or at the very least, a local coffee shop with a drive-thru, Cayla stumbled down the hall to roust Maddie for the day. If the child didn’t dawdle, she could probably manage to brew a couple cups for a travel mug before they had to get out the door for school. Until someone made IV drips of caffeine standard in cars, that would have to do.
“Rise and shine, Sleepyhead.” She strode into Maddie’s room, crossing to close the window she didn’t remember opening last night.
Nothing moved from the vicinity of the bed.
“Come on, kiddo. Time to get up. We’re going to be late for school.”
There was so much on her plate today. She couldn’t remember what all it was, but in her mind’s eye, she could see the fully filled pages of her planner. She couldn’t afford to be late, not when her business was just starting to really thrive.
Maddie didn’t stir. Not surprising. They’d been up well past her bedtime last night. Cayla couldn’t quite remember why yesterday had been such a big day or what it was Maddie had been so excited about.
Coffee. Coffee would jumpstart her brain. With that holy grail in mind, she began knocking the mountain of stuffed animals off the bed to dig out her daughter. But there was no sleepy little girl in a heap under the covers.
“Maddie?”
Confused, Cayla checked the bathroom, then the living room. She was running by the time she hit the kitchen.
“Maddie!”
The back door stood open, a trail of muddy footprints leading out to the yard. Footprints far too large to belong to her child. Terror, black and potent, sucked at her heels as she ran out the door, shouting. “Maddie!”
From somewhere beyond the treeline, her daughter cried. “Mommy!”
And the sound of Arthur’s chilling laughter floated to her on the breeze. “I always come back for what’s mine.”
“No! Maddie!”
The touch on her shoulder had her rocketing up, choking on a scream.
“Hey. Hey, it’s okay. It was just a bad dream.”
Cayla turned toward Holt’s low, soothing voice and felt his arms close around her. “He took her. He took her.”
“He didn’t. Maddie’s fine. It was just a dream.”
His warmth soaked into her, his solid presence cutting through the panic that followed her out of the nightmare. She held on, fisting her hands in his t-shirt and pressing close to the man who’d vowed to protect them both. His hand tangled in her hair, rubbing tiny circles on her nape that leeched away the fear. But her heart still thundered, her mother’s instinct unable to settle without seeing the truth for herself.
“I have to check.”
“Okay. Then we’ll check.” Squeezing her nape once, he eased away, off where he’d sat on the edge of the bed.
Cayla scrambled up, rushing past him, down the hall. Maddie’s door was cracked, the glow of the nightlight spilling out. She carefully pushed it open and stepped inside. Her daughter lay sleeping, face squashed to the pillow, one arm hooked around Sven, her knees drawn up so her rump was in the air amid the sea of stuffed animals. The window was closed.
All the tension drained away, relief making her knees weak. On a long sigh, she carefully pulled the door to. Behind her, Holt jerked his head toward the kitchen. She followed him, not questioning how he knew which cabinet held the glasses. He filled one with fresh water and passed it to her. Without a word, she drank it down, wetting her parched throat.
“Better?”
She nodded. Everything was better in this moment, having him here. Not being alone with her fears in the wee hours.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not a lot to talk about. After everything that happened, it’s not surprising that I dreamed Arthur did exactly what he threatened to do.” She shoved a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“No worries.”
Cayla focused in on him, noting that other than the rumpled hair, he looked truly awake. He wore a t-shirt and a pair of cut-off sweatpants that showed his prosthesis. Surely he didn’t sleep in it. Which meant he’d probably put it back on to come check on her. How fast was he at doing that? She didn’t feel like she could ask him.
“Have you slept at all?”
“Some. I’m a light sleeper. Part of my training. You think you can go back to sleep?”
“I don’t know. I should try. I’ve got a full schedule tomorrow. Or today. What time is it?”
“A little after two. C’mon. I’ll tuck you back in.”
Rather than feeling infantilized by him leading her back down the hall and drawing back the covers, Cayla felt cared for. As she slid beneath the blankets, she thought back to those first few moments after she came out of the nightmare, when his arms had been around her. Everything in her yearned for more of that contact. More of him.
“Holt?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stay? I just… I’d really like to be held.” Embarrassment crawled up her cheeks at the admission, but God, she didn’t want to be alone with all her dark thoughts.
He hesitated a moment, and she was on the cusp of giving him an out, when he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his prosthesis. She had questions. How did it happen? Did it still hurt? But she didn’t ask, especially as he was very careful to get in so that his good leg was closest to her.
He stretched out an arm, and she cuddled against him, sighing as he closed her into his warm embrace. She hadn’t been held by anyone since her divorce, and never like this. All his solid strength surrounded her, blocking out the demons from her past and the echoes of the dream. The slow, steady thump of his heart beneath her palm smoothed her ragged edges.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “For everything. I know you didn’t choose this either.”
He stayed quiet for a long time before finally sucking in a breath. “I’m crazy about your kid. And I’ve spent most of the past couple months trying not to be crazy about you. Marrying you isn’t a hardship, Cayla.”
She wasn’t up to asking him why he didn’t want to feel something for her and wasn’t sure he’d answer if she did. It was enough knowing he cared beyond friendship. That this wasn’t only about her daughter. She didn’t know exactly what she felt for him. Friendship, certainly. Gratitude beyond measure. Lust. There were worse things to base a marriage on. In the intimacy of his embrace in the dark, quiet room, she acknowledged to herself that she wanted a genuine marriage, and everything that went with it, for as long as they lasted.
Cayla thought of what he’d said before about how he had no expectations. That if they went to bed together, it would be because she chose it, because she wanted him. She did want him. Had wanted him for months, even before their lives had become inextricably entwined. He’d been starring in her fantasies almost from their first meeting. Now he was her husband. She could make them real.
She considered rising up, taking his mouth for the kiss she’d wanted as his wife. Seducing and being seduced. But if she pushed for more in this moment, took solace in the pleasure of his body, it felt as if she’d be using him, somehow. That wasn’t right. Not when he’d shown her such kindness.
They should take their time, build on the foundation of friendship, and see where things went. Maybe, just maybe, this crazy scheme could turn into something more. Something real.
Content with the prospect, she settled against the heat of him and pressed a kiss to his shoulder instead. “Goodnight, Holt.”
He brushed a phantom kiss to her temple. “Goodnight.”