Chapter 6 Selene
SIX
SELENE
There were exactly three sips of coffee left in my mug when Winnie’s pink plastic unicorn cup went flying.
I tried to catch it and a splash of lukewarm caffeine hit my neck. My shirt. The counter. The floor. Winnie—oblivious as ever—giggled, her curls bouncing as she chased the runaway cup like we were starring in some deranged slapstick comedy.
I steadied my voice. “Winnie, I asked you not to bring your cup over here.”
“But I was thirsty!” she insisted, indignant.
I pressed my fingers into my eye sockets and tried not to cry. The coffee was the only thing tethering me to the realm of the living this morning. Now it was soaking into the hem of my shirt and pooling beneath the toaster like some dark omen.
Somewhere in the distance—possibly on Mars—my phone buzzed for the fifth time in two minutes. Work texts, no doubt. I ignored them.
I didn’t need help. I needed cloned versions of myself with better attitudes and lower cortisol levels.
“Mama, I can’t find my purple sock!” Winnie yelled.
I gritted my teeth. “Then wear the yellow ones!”
She groaned. “They’re itchy!”
I closed my eyes. Counted to five and breathed in.
The air smelled like spilled coffee and syrup-sticky fingers.
I cracked one eye open again and surveyed the kitchen—cereal scattered like confetti, shoes in the sink, Winnie in her pajamas, and me in a shirt that now looked like I’d gone twelve rounds with a latte.
From beyond the kitchen wall, I could hear Austin moving. His side of the duplex had its own rhythm—less chaos, more quiet thumps and purposeful steps. A door clicked shut. His footsteps trailed toward the back. Then silence.
I braced myself against the sink, letting my head hang.
Austin’s playful note from the day before had put a little pep in my step, but it looked like I was on my own this morning.
At first I’d been mortified to learn that he had overheard me talking with Kit.
The flush in my cheeks deepened when I thought about what else he may have heard through those thin walls.
The respectable, modest part of me wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole, but the poised, assertive parts didn’t care he might have overheard me pleasuring myself.
In fact, I wondered what he might have said had he known I’d gotten off imagining him stroking himself on the other side of the wall.
Warmth bloomed low in my belly. It was safest to keep a lid on dangerous, yearning parts.
I shook out my shoulders. I had shit to do and very little time to do it.
Austin was gone for the day—or so I thought. The house was quiet long enough for the silence to settle and for me to start scrubbing the counter while I considered reheating yesterday’s coffee—when the knock startled me.
Two short raps. Confident and familiar.
I blinked at the door like it had grown arms.
Another knock, followed by a muffled voice. “Everything okay in there? It sounded like someone was trying to wrestle a raccoon into a turtleneck.”
Winnie shrieked with laughter.
I padded to the front door and cracked it open just wide enough to see him standing on the porch with two to-go cups in a cardboard tray.
Austin looked irritatingly awake. Hair tousled but somehow still perfect.
Black T-shirt and jeans with that cocky little half smile like he already knew how my morning had gone.
I opened the door a little more, just enough to reveal that I was wearing only one sock. His gaze dragged down my legs and back up, humor dancing in his eyes.
“Not a word,” I warned.
He raised his free hand. “I didn’t say a thing, but I did bring a peace offering.”
And, damn it, I almost smiled.
He held out the tray. One cup was topped with a clear domed lid and whipped cream piled high with sprinkles. The other was marked with my name in Sharpie.
“Let me guess,” I said, eyeing him suspiciously. “You heard the chaos and decided to rescue the damsels in distress?”
“Nope,” he said. “I heard the chaos and thought, ‘Wow, I bet she’s already out of coffee.’”
I reached for the cup despite myself. “You’re a menace.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Only sometimes.”
Winnie darted between us, flinging herself around his waist like she did this every day. “Austin! You brought sprinkles!”
He crouched to her level, ruffling her curls. “Only the best for my new favorite tornado.”
Winnie darted back into the house, probably to find something cool to show her new friend, no doubt.
I propped a hip against the doorjamb. “You seem like a man who has a lot of tornadoes in his life,” I said before I could stop myself.
He looked up at me, slow and amused. “Nah. I’ve got a type. One-socked women with coffee stains and a death glare.”
My mouth opened—then shut again.
From inside my house, something crashed and I closed my eyes.
“I’m on it,” he said, already stepping inside like he belonged.
He set the drinks on the counter, scooped up the cereal box from the floor, and caught Winnie mid-spin before she collided with the table. “All right, small but mighty,” he said to her, “let’s find those socks before your mom self-destructs.”
I just stood there, stunned, while he moved through the kitchen like he’d been doing it for years.
“Selene?” he said, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Why don’t you go take five? Put on something without coffee in the fabric. I’ve got this.”
I didn’t move.
“Seriously,” he said, softening. “Go. I’ve got this.”
And, apparently, he did.
I hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him to second-guess himself, to need direction, to prove I couldn’t let go even for five minutes.
But he didn’t. He just moved around like the kitchen belonged to him, Winnie trailing behind like he was the sun and she was some wild little planet in his orbit.
I turned and climbed the stairs—quietly, reluctantly—listening as his voice drifted up through the old floors, low and calm and steady.
And somehow that was the part that undid me most.
When I came back down, the kitchen was still a mess, but somehow the noise had settled.
Winnie munched on a granola bar at the table, swinging her legs under the chair and humming to herself like this was any other day.
Austin leaned against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other, sipping coffee like he belonged there—like this wasn’t the weirdest morning of my week.
I stayed in the doorway, arms folded, trying not to overanalyze the fact that he’d poured Winnie’s milk into a mason jar because he couldn’t find her cup, or that she’d happily accepted it without a second thought.
Or that he had somehow managed to talk her into putting socks on without either of them ending up in tears.
“She’s a negotiator,” he said, eyes flicking toward me as he handed her a paper towel. “I think she could run a boardroom if the snacks were right.”
“She’s five,” I muttered, but the corner of my mouth tugged up anyway. “And she’s not supposed to eat in here without a plate.”
He held up both hands like I’d caught him mid-crime. “Noted. Next time, full table settings and linen napkins.”
I stared at him. “There’s not going to be a next time.”
Austin just shrugged and took another sip of coffee. “Okay.”
I crossed the room and grabbed a banana, peeling it with a little more force than necessary. “I mean it.”
He nodded. “I know.”
“I’m serious.” My hand propped on my hip.
Austin smiled. “I can tell. You’ve got your serious banana-eating stance going.”
I looked down at the banana like it had betrayed me, then exhaled hard. “I don’t like needing help.”
Austin’s voice was laced with understanding. “Most people don’t.”
I gritted my teeth. “I’m not most people.”
He chuckled, but somehow I didn’t feel like he was making fun of me. “I’d gathered that.”
We stood there for a second—me with my half-peeled banana, him looking aggravatingly calm—and something in my chest twisted. I hadn’t invited this. I hadn’t asked for anyone to step in, but he had. Winnie had accepted him with open arms, and now there we were.
My eyes narrowed at him. “Don’t you have a job?” I looked around the duplex. “Somewhere else to be?”
Austin’s cheek twitched. “I’m employed.”
I shot him a blank stare.
He chuckled and added, “I was working at the marina, but stepped away from that. Right now I am helping Wes’s construction company while he’s recovering.
In fact, I’m working on a jobsite at Star Harbor Farms for your sister.
” His shoulders lifted. “It’s physically demanding work, but I’m finding I actually enjoy it.
The hours are flexible and the pay is more than fair. ”
I eyed him again. If anyone knew I was actually considering accepting childcare help from a one-night stand, I’d be the mockery of the school pickup line.
As if their pity glances weren’t enough, if they knew my only option was big-dick energy with a winning smile, my status as tragic mess would be officially cemented.
Still, it was hard to deny the convenience of a caretaker right next door who could accommodate before- and after-school care.
Shit.
“Just for this week.” I rubbed my temple. “Until I can figure something else out.”
Austin’s smile was subtle, but it was there. “Sure. Temporary works for me. You’re the boss.”
Winnie popped out of her chair like a jack-in-the-box. “Does that mean you’re my nanny?”
Austin choked on his coffee. “I think ‘awesome neighbor helper guy’ is a cooler title.”
She tilted her head. “Do I get to make you a name tag sticker?”
He gave a solemn nod. “Only if it has glitter.”
The timer on the stove buzzed—a reminder I’d set ages ago to switch the laundry that I never actually put in. I groaned, rubbing my eyes. “I need ten minutes. Can you keep an eye on her?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Go.”
I hesitated anyway.
“Selene,” he said, voice low and even. “We can survive ten minutes. I’ve got her.”
Something in his tone—something steady and unflinching—made it hard to argue. So I nodded and backed out of the room, only half listening to Winnie tell him her favorite knock-knock joke for the third time this week.
Halfway up the stairs, I realized I was breathing easier.
And that scared the hell out of me.