Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
GIA
Why was I still here?
I should’ve left an hour ago. Something about sitting in that ridiculous fairy treehouse, laughing with his family, and feeling folded into something warm had stirred up an ache I didn’t know what to do with.
I longed for this kind of something that I’d never really had and had no business wanting now.
Bagel had taken up residence at my feet. He was a sweet boy.
I phoned Misty while Sofia got her bath, half hoping there’d be an emergency waiting for me that could give me a solid excuse to bolt. Misty was fine. Cheerful, even. There went my out.
She was super unhelpful by signing off with something along the lines of “jump his bones” before she hung up.
Sofia ran out in a pink frilly pajama set and pulled me into her room. “Daddy, the frog.”
“I’m sorry,” Timothy whispered, handing me a large picture book that turned out to be about a frog who kept turning into different people until he realized he was better off as himself.
Cute story. Exhausting performance. It required at least six voices, one croak, and what became an accidental British accent halfway through.
At the end, Sofia patted my hand. “You did okay. Daddy does better people.”
I pressed my lips together to hold back a smile. “It was my first try. You could cut me some slack.”
She nodded, grave as a tiny judge delivering a sentence.
“Goodnight.” I gave her a small hug and left Timothy to work whatever magic he used to get her to sleep.
And…here I was. Still sitting on his sofa. Still scrolling mindlessly on my phone. I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting for, but leaving now would be awkward.
Honest truth? Something inside me had cracked open in that treehouse—some locked-up, lonely part I’d kept sealed tight for years. Now that it had tasted warmth, it wasn’t ready to walk away.
“She’s asleep,” Timothy announced when he finally emerged. He was barefoot, jeans slung low on his hips, and his t-shirt wrinkled after the bath and bedtime activities.
His gaze found mine and held. Something raw moved behind his eyes. It was unsteady enough to make my pulse trip. He pressed his lips together, then tipped his head toward the door. “Come outside with me?”
I followed him into the thick summer night. The cicadas screamed loud enough to swallow every other sound. The air sat heavy and warm against my skin.
He turned to face me, shoulders tight, chest rising like he was bracing himself. His dark blue eyes searched mine. “I heard what you said to Sofia when she asked what would happen if I found her a new mommy.”
“Oh.” I sucked in a breath, heat rushing to my face. “She blindsided me, and I shouldn’t have said—”
“Thank you.” He swallowed and stared out into the night as silence settled between us. “I saw you and Hudson Raynes at your house the other day. I stopped by to… It doesn’t matter. He’ll be good to you.”
“I’ve known him a while. He’s only a friend. But you and me?” I shook my head, unsure how to explain it.
“What about you and me?”
I stared at his clenched jaw and tight posture. He had the arms of a man who did hard work and wore the scars of it. His shoulders held the tension of someone who juggled a lot and pushed his feelings far far down.
I sighed, unsure how to vocalize it. Also, I was unsure where he stood on the matter of “us.”
“Gia?” Just my name—rough and broken.
I met his gaze for an instant and dropped it.
“Fuck it.” He crossed the space between us in two strides, hauled me against him, and kissed me like a man starving after years of pretending he wasn’t hungry. My back struck the side of the house hard enough to sting, but the discomfort vanished beneath the wildfire ripping through me.
He held my face like something precious while his mouth claimed mine.
I kissed him back. The kiss turned hungry fast. Messy. Breathless. His body pressed into mine like he couldn’t get close enough, and every drag of his mouth sent heat spiraling lower in my stomach.
When he finally broke away, it was only far enough to breathe against my lips. His forehead dropped to mine, chest heaving.
“Tell me to stop,” he said hoarsely, already kissing me again before I could answer. He kissed down my neck, stopping with his forehead resting against my shoulder, like he needed the contact as much as the air.
“If you don’t leave right now, I’m going to take you inside and—” His voice roughened into something almost desperate. “I’m going to erase the memory of anyone other than me.”
“I’ll regret it if you don’t.”
He sucked in a sharp breath and straightened, then let out a broken little wheeze. “Thank God.”
A soft laugh escaped me, shaky around the edges. I slid my fingers into his hair and brushed it back from his forehead, lingering there longer than necessary, wanting to smooth away wounds I hadn’t been there to protect him from.
His brow furrowed beneath my touch. “Gia…” His voice quieted. “Do you want to leave or go inside?”
The question punched straight through me. “I want to be here.” My throat tightened. “I’m just…scared.”
His entire expression changed instantly. “I’d never hurt you. Never. Never like—” He stopped himself. “Not ever.”
“Not that. Never that.” I swallowed against the knot in my throat. “You fight, yeah. But I’ve never been afraid of you that way.” My fingers curled lightly against his neck. “That’s not what scares me.”
He kissed me once, soft this time, like he was afraid to push too hard. “What is it?”
“I’m scared I won’t be enough for you.” My chest tightened so hard it hurt. “That when you touch me, some part of you will remember women who knew what they were doing. Or women who were prettier…better.”
I hated giving voice to my insecurity. Yet, it felt good to drag it into the open. I’d never shared it with Justin. Somehow, he’d seen my weakness and by the end knew exactly how to weaponize it.
His hands came up, framing my face. “Who made you to think so little of yourself?”
I looked down. “Justin, my ex, always said I was missing something. That I wasn’t…” My voice failed me.
His fingers tipped my chin up, gentle but unyielding, making me meet his eyes. They burned bright with emotion.
“You’re enough for me.” His voice came rough. “More than enough.”
The words hit somewhere deep and bruised, a place that had been starving so long it didn’t know how to believe it was finally being fed.
I leaned in and kissed him, one hand sneaking up under his t-shirt to run along the hot skin of his back. “Take me inside.”
I expected clothes to start flying the second we got through the door. Part of me was relieved when they didn’t. Part of me was disappointed. Beneath both sat something uglier—fear.
I wasn’t ashamed of my body. But I also wasn’t sixteen anymore. Life had left its fingerprints on me. There were scars no one saw and softer places where youth had once been taut and effortless. I felt exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nakedness.
Timothy caught my hand and led me into his bedroom. The door had barely shut and locked before he tipped my chin up. “Nope,” he murmured gently. “You’re not disappearing into your head on me.”
He drew me closer until my breasts touched his chest, and I was aware that only thin layers of fabric separated us. The solid reality of his arms around my body grounded me.
I let my hands wander over him because touching him was easier than being touched by what I felt. I traced the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, brushed my fingertips over his tight nipples, and smiled softly when his breath caught sharp in his chest.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered. My fingers kept moving, memorizing him. “Maybe even more than I remember.”
His expression broke my heart a little. “It’s only a shell,” he said quietly, breaths uneven.
I smiled up at him. “You’re good at so many things, and such a good dad.”
His cheeks flushed. “I have things I need to say to you.”
Panic fluttered hard in my chest. Words were dangerous. Words could split me open in ways hands never could.
“How about not?” I tugged my shirt over my head.
I reached for the hem of his shirt, desperate to turn this into something simpler—heat, skin, hunger—anything but honesty.
He caught my wrist gently. Not stopping me. Just holding me there.
“Why are you rushing?” he asked, tender enough to undo me.
One hand covered mine where it rested on his belt. His other hand cradled my cheek, his eyes searching mine with quiet certainty.
“I’m not...”
“Do you think I’m looking at you and counting flaws?” he asked softly. “I’m not. I’m blown away by you. By the person you’ve become.” His thumb brushed my cheekbone. “I won’t lie to you. I’m also angry.”
I blinked up at him.
His jaw tightened. “I’m angry people hurt you. Angry they taught you to hide yourself.” His voice dropped, rough with emotion. “Angry you ran away and wouldn’t let me help. Angry you never reached out to tell me you were alive. But…I see who you are.”
The acceptance in his gaze seduced me. Never once had he looked at me like I was something to endure the way my ex had.
Whatever strange, unbreakable thing tied us together made me do what I’d never done with anyone else. I gave him all of me. Not carefully. Not prettily. Completely.
I stripped off my jeans and kicked away my shoes, standing bare beneath the warm light of the room with nowhere left to hide. No sheets to pull over myself. No darkness to soften my edges. No clever angle to disguise the places life had marked me.
Let him look.
Let him see I no longer had the flat stomach of a girl untouched by time and living.
Let him see the freckles scattered everywhere the sun had kissed my skin.
Let him see the pale ridge of scar tissue carved across my right side—jagged proof of the steer that took advantage of my distraction and sent me straight to an operating table.
Let him see every imperfect inch. And choose what he thought of it.