Chapter 17
Kia
It only takes one round to realize that Go Fish is serious business in the Lennox household.
Elody kneels on the rug between us, tongue poked out in concentration as she studies her cards.
Laiken is sprawled across from her, one arm braced behind him, long legs stretched out, pretending he isn’t letting his four-year-old daughter wipe the floor with him.
It might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed.
“Do you have a seven?” she asks.
He squints at his hand. “Nope, go fish.”
She pokers up and points. “Yes, you do! I saw it when you picked up your cards.”
He groans before spotting it. “Oh. Well, shoot.” He hands it over. “You’re a little cheater pants.”
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it. Laiken glances over long enough for something unreadable to pass through his eyes before it’s quickly masked.
We finish the round with Elody declaring herself the champion.
Again.
“Looks like it’s bedtime,” Laiken says, checking his phone.
Elody’s eyes widen before she presses her palms together and pleads, “Just one more game. Pleeeease.”
Laiken shifts before straightening. “You’ve already pushed it enough for one night, bug. It’s time for bed.”
Her gaze snaps to me. “Can Kia tuck me in?”
The question hangs in the air.
I glance at him cautiously. “Only if it’s okay. I don’t want to overstep.”
There’s a brief hesitation before he jerks his head in a nod. “Sure, that’s fine.”
The moment I rise to my feet, Elody grabs my hand and drags me down the hallway.
She knows her routine by heart, and brushes her teeth with so much exuberance that she somehow gets more water on the mirror than in her mouth.
We read two stories and then I tuck her stuffed rabbit beneath her arm while Penny is placed on the pillow next to her.
I settle on the edge of her mattress as she snuggles into the covers.
“You’ll still be here in the morning, right?” she asks, worry creeping into her tone.
“I’ll be here,” I promise.
Her lips curve into a smile as her eyelids droop. I switch off the lamp on the nightstand and then linger for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest along with the way her fingers curl around the rabbit’s fuzzy ear.
A wave of contentment settles over me. Being here and finding this rhythm, a purpose, is steadying in a way I didn’t realize I needed. For the first time in months, I’m not spiraling or hiding. I have a clear direction to move forward in.
With Elody in bed, I head back to the living room to clean up the game and find that Laiken has already stacked the cards neatly on the table. The lights are dim and he’s sitting on the couch.
Just as I’m about to tell him I’m turning in for the night, he asks, “Did you want to watch something?”
I shouldn’t. It’s been a long day and I’m beat. And spending more time with him is a bad idea.
After a moment of silent debate, I give in. “Sure.” Then I settle at the far end of the couch, careful to leave an appropriate amount of space between us.
His attention remains on me. “Any preferences?”
I shake my head. While in school, there wasn’t a lot of time to watch shows. There was always homework or reading to catch up on. Tests to study for. Group projects to coordinate.
He jerks his head toward the television. “I was watching Reacher. It’s pretty decent.”
“Sure, that sounds good.”
Even though I purposely left distance between us, it doesn’t seem to matter. I’m still painfully aware of the heat that radiates off him, the steady weight of his presence, and the way his knee shifts closer to mine without quite touching.
When his phone lights up, I catch a glimpse of the name that flashes across the screen before he silences it.
Abigail.
Laiken said he doesn’t date or go out, but maybe that was a lie. Or maybe women come here for booty calls. I’m pretty sure that’s what my brother used to do.
The jealousy that pricks at me is almost a shock. I shove it down before it has the chance to bloom into more, all the while studying his face, searching for clues as to who the mystery woman is and what she means to him.
It would be impossible not to notice the way his jaw tightens. That’s when I realize I might have jumped to the wrong conclusion.
Unable to hold the question in, I cautiously ask, “Is everything okay?”
For a second, he doesn’t respond.
His exhale is long and slow, as if it takes physical effort to push it out. “That was my ex’s mother. She and her husband recently decided to pursue custody of Elody, and now lawyers are involved.”
Out of everything I expected him to say, that wasn’t it.
My eyes widen. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“They’re trying to use my career against me. They’re saying I’m too busy, that I travel too much, and that I bring random women around Elody.” His mouth hardens into a tight line. “Pretty much that the home I’m providing for her is unstable and she’d be better off living with them.”
Anger bubbles up inside me.
“I’ve only been around for a few days, but from what I’ve seen, nothing could be further from the truth. You’re an amazing father. If there’s one thing I’ve noticed, it’s that Elody is happy and well-adjusted. They should be thrilled she’s thriving, instead of trying to take that away from her.”
My heart goes out to this man and everything he’s dealing with.
His gaze drops for a beat. When he looks up again, there’s no mistaking the stark vulnerability in his expression.
It’s the kind that comes from loving someone fiercely and knowing how easily they could be ripped away.
It’s not a conscious decision to reach out and lay my hand over his larger one, only wanting to offer comfort and support.
What he’s going through must be torture.
I’m unprepared for the sensation that rushes through me at the innocuous contact. Everything stills as the television fades into background noise and the room narrows to that single point of connection. His breathing quickens just enough to notice.
He glances down at our hands before lifting his gaze to my face. Warmth creeps up my arm, my awareness sharpening as every cell in my body goes on high alert, wondering how this will play out.
His other hand lifts, and for one suspended second, I think he might touch me. His fingers hover, close enough that I can feel the heat of him before his arm falls back to his side.
My mouth dries as I pull my hand away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”
The apology feels inadequate, too small for the weight of what just passed between us.
He shakes his head once. “Don’t be. I appreciate you saying all that. It means a lot.” His voice is steady, but there’s something underneath it, as if he’s choosing every word carefully.
The space between us feels different now, charged in a way it wasn’t before, and I suddenly notice how close his thigh is to mine. My gaze drifts to his chest, and I can’t help wondering what it would feel like beneath my palm.
It startles me how easily this moment could turn into more if either of us moved even an inch closer. The thought alone sends goose bumps prickling over my skin.
His gaze flicks to my mouth before returning to my eyes. Even though the moment passes almost as quickly as it came, the tension continues to linger, stretched thin and impossible to ignore.
He watches every movement as I swallow and shift my weight, unsure where we go from here.
“You should probably get some sleep,” he says, voice rough.
The words are practical.
Sensible.
Even necessary.
I nod but don’t move a muscle otherwise.
How can I when I’m frozen in place?