Chapter 20
Laiken
I wake slowly, stretching without opening my eyes, my body loose and well rested in a way I don’t usually feel. For a few seconds, I remain still, suspended in comfort.
Nothing feels off.
If anything, everything feels… oddly right.
The mattress is warmer than usual and the air smells faintly different as well. A light, citrusy scent clings to the covers.
Awareness creeps in, unwelcome but inevitable.
Kia.
My eyes fly open as I turn and stare at the other side of the mattress. It’s empty now, but the sheets are slightly rumpled and there’s an indentation on the pillow. The quiet echo of her presence lingers in my private space.
Memories from last night return in fragments.
A nightmare. I don’t remember exactly what it was. Something about losing Elody at an amusement park. Panic had clawed its way up from deep down inside me. It doesn’t take a psychologist to understand where in the depths of my subconscious that fear had been dredged up from.
Kia’s voice had cut through it in a way that was steady, calm, and grounding. I’d woken up with my hands on her before I even realized what was happening. As soon as reality hit, I’d immediately rolled away.
She’d been so understanding, and apologized for the kiss last night. Her whispered words circle through my head as I scrub a hand over my face. If anyone’s at fault, it’s me.
For a moment, I’d forgotten that I don’t have the luxury of being careless anymore. That I don’t get to blur lines because something feels good or right in a way it hasn’t been in a long time.
With a slow exhale, I lean against the headboard and stare at the ceiling.
After the nightmare, I hadn’t wanted to be alone and asked her to stay.
Even after the apology and talk of boundaries.
After she had every reason to walk away… she’d stayed.
I can’t stop thinking about the feel of her pressed against my chest and the way my body finally loosened once it curved around her smaller one.
I’d slept deeper than I have in years.
And that scares the hell out of me.
After Sarah left, my life narrowed to two things—Elody and hockey. Everything else was noise I didn’t have room for. No dates. No distractions. No women around long enough for anyone to twist the story and use it against me.
Last night cracked something wide open inside me, something I’d worked hard to seal shut. I have no idea how to reconcile it, only that I can’t ignore it.
I swing my legs out of bed and stand, forcing myself into motion.
Boundaries. That’s what we need. Clear ones, thick enough that I can’t cross.
Kia deserves clarity.
And Elody deserves stability.
End of story.
I pull on gray sweatpants and a T-shirt before heading for the door, already mapping out the conversation in my head. It’ll be professional, controlled, and most of all… final.
When I step out of my bedroom, I expect to jump into the routine I’ve built over the last year. I’ll get eggs going on the stove while the sounds of cartoons echo in the background. Elody will be half-awake and asking for juice while I pack her lunch for the day. It’s a rhythm I know well.
Instead, I walk into laughter that’s high-pitched, bubbling, and bright.
Kia stands at the stove, wearing a soft sweater with her hair pulled back as she flips sunny-side-up eggs. Elody dances in circles around her, bare feet slapping against the floor, eyes shining with the kind of joy only a four-year-old can summon before eight a.m.
Some of the tension drains from my body.
I hate how easy this feels.
How much it looks like the mornings I envisioned when Sarah was pregnant. The ones that never materialized. The ones I’d finally accepted were never going to happen.
My gaze shifts to Kia, and I study her profile while her attention stays focused on the eggs.
Is it my imagination, or does she look pale?
There’s a faint sheen of sweat beaded along her hairline.
Concern overrides everything else.
“Morning,” I say, stepping closer.
She startles, her eyes darting to mine before returning to the pan. “Morning.”
I move closer before forcing myself to stop. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she mumbles. “Just a little tired.”
It bothers me that she didn’t sleep as well as I did.
A few seconds later, she slides the eggs onto a plate for Elody and then abruptly stiffens, her hand rising to her mouth.
“Kia?” I take a hasty step in retreat as she darts past me, rushing down the hallway and into the bathroom.
A beat later, I hear the unmistakable sounds of retching.
Elody frowns as her eyes fill with concern. “Daddy? Is Kia sick like Kennedy?”
“Seems like it, bug. Why don’t you start working on your breakfast and I’ll find out what’s going on.”
With a nod, she skewers a piece of egg with her fork.
I follow Kia to the small powder room before peeking inside, only to find her kneeling over the toilet, one hand braced on the rim, shoulders tense as another wave hits.
“Kia,” I say, lowering myself beside her before reaching out to rub the space between her shoulder blades. “Are you all right? Do you have the flu?”
She squeezes her eyes shut for a beat before shaking her head. Unease ripples through me. Beneath the guilt, the attraction, and the lingering confusion, an instinct that has nothing to do with desire stirs to life.
It’s one that only wants to take care of her.
Protect her.
Instead of acting on it, I stop myself from getting any closer.
Not yet.
Not after the intimacy we shared last night.
Not when I’m still clinging to all the reasons I need to keep my distance, no matter how flimsy they are.