9. Why?
WHY?
OLIVIA
“Livy,” Claire’s sweet voice whispers.
I look away from the book I’ve been reading her and bend down to hear the sweet baby lying on the bed beside me.
Her soft, curly black hair is fanned around her pillow.
Her eyes closed, long eyelashes brushing against her soft skin.
A pang in my heart hits me. I wanted Bear’s child so much.
Even though I know it’s wrong, I can close my eyes and imagine Claire is ours.
It’s silly, but it helps ease the pain I feel—if only for a minute.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. You rest. I’ll stay right here with you till Mommy and Daddy come home.
” Her little snore is my answer, making me smile so big that my cheeks hurt.
“Bear?” I murmur into the room, which is dark except for Claire’s soft butterfly lamp.
“Our child would have been as sweet as Claire. Would it have been a boy or a girl? There are times I’m haunted by the image of a little boy who looks just like you.
God, it hurts. There are times when I don’t know which hurts worse, the loss of you, or the dreams of what could have been.
All I know is that I ache to have you with me. ”
I push my thoughts away, wiping away the tear that has escaped.
I make sure Claire is tucked in safely. Kiss her forehead, then leave her door cracked as I leave.
I make my way back to the kitchen, cleaning up the dishes that Claire and I used.
I don’t want to leave Lisa a mess. I’m just finishing up the bowls that held our popcorn when there’s a knock on the door.
I wipe my hands on a dishtowel as I make my way to the door.
Shock hits me as I open the door. I expected Jeff or maybe Colt.
Staring back at me is Lake. I don’t know what he’s doing here, but I figure no matter what, I have to open the door.
It’s not like he’ll go away if I don’t answer the door.
He’s a security guard. He’d probably break in to make sure I’m okay and cause all kinds of issues. Damn it.
“Ugh,” I mutter, opening the door. “What’s up?” I ask.
“Jeff got called away. Breech birth on one of our horses and the vet in unavailable, so he can’t come back. You’re stuck with me.”
“Oh. Well, I mean, we’re fine in here. You can just do what you’re doing outside.”
“Can’t do that. Carson wants someone in the house with you at all times,” he counters, and I sigh as dread sinks down to my soul.
“Can’t Colt or one of the others stay with me and you take their spot?”
“They’re not here. I am. It’d be a waste of time and manpower,” he explains, making me hate him even more.
“Fine,” I huff. “Come on in.”
“Thanks,” he chuckles, making me look up at him in shock.
“You can laugh,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Most people can,” he murmurs, his gaze roving over the living and kitchen areas.
One thing I love about Carson and Lisa’s house is that it’s all open.
My place is like that. They called it the foreman’s cabin when I moved in, but it seems much more like a mansion than a cabin to me.
Dad would’ve loved this place. A moment of pain hits me at the memory of my father.
“What’s wrong?” Lake asks, sounding worried.
“Huh?” I ask, looking up at him in surprise.
“You looked really sad for a minute.”
“Oh, I was just thinking about my dad. I lost him recently. It’s still hard.”
“I’m sorry,” he answers, his voice gruff.
My forehead furrows as I look up at him. None of his usual hate and anger is on his face. “Why are you being nice to me?”
He rubs the side of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve been an asshole. You didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”
My heart speeds up to the point that it’s hard to breathe. Of all the things I’d imagined would happen when I opened the door to him, an apology wasn’t even in the realm of possibility.
I clear my throat as I wring my hands together, feeling self-conscious. “W-Would you like something to drink?”
“No. If you could show me all the doors in this place, though, I’d appreciate it. I’d like to make sure they’re all secure.”
“Is there something going on that I should be worried about?” I ask, because all this seems excessive.
“We’re just being thorough,” he says.
“Okay, I nod, but when he stares at me, I gasp. His gaze, those eyes, when he looks at me, he reminds me so much of Bear that I feel tears stinging my eyes. I stumble back, feeling my world tilt on its axis.
“Whoa, are you okay?” he asks, reaching out to steady me. The minute his hands grasp my biceps, the heat from his touch is instant, so much it almost feels like electricity firing through me.
His hand jerks, but he doesn’t let go of me. Did he feel it too?
“I-I’m okay,” I murmur. “There’s an accordion door that leads out to the back patio,” I tell him. He’s still holding me. He stares at me as if he’s trying to figure out a mystery, but he doesn’t let me go.
“I should look at it,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
“Lake?” I finally prompt.
“I love the way you say my name. It feels so right, but at the same time, it feels completely wrong,” he responds, sounding almost tortured.
“Why?” I ask.
He keeps staring, but then finally shakes his head. “That’s a million-dollar question, and I’m broke.”
The lame joke seems out of place, yet I’m grateful for it. The tension definitely needed broken. My reaction to Lake is confusing and scary. The only other man who made me feel something intense was Bear—not even Blade got this type of response from me, and I thought I loved him once.
Shit. Maybe it was better when he just acted like an asshole.