Chapter 13 #3
“I did not grow up thinking my parents were superheroes. In fact, I think I knew how terrible they were far younger than I should have understood.”
I wasn’t sure if I was more surprised by the fact Mikko had been so vulnerable with me, or that I was continuing, but I couldn’t stop now that I’d started.
“My mom left us when I was in kindergarten, just poof. Gone. Never heard from again.”
“It was you and your brothers with your dad?”
“Yeah. And my Nana, but she wasn’t much better. I already didn’t talk much, not willing to say anything to upset the many volatile personalities in my house. But when she left, it got so much worse.”
Mikko turned to look at me, seeing exactly what I wasn’t saying. But I couldn’t explain myself like that, couldn’t admit that my entire career path was some sort of vengeance quest to make sure no little kid felt the way I did.
“Beckett’s dad was an alcoholic too.”
“I knew that. Neither of you drink.”
I pointed a finger at him, unsurprised he’d already picked up on that.
“David and my dad were best friends, so we were together a lot.” I rested my chin on my hands again, too tired to even sit upright. “Lori was my superhero. I used to dream she’d come to the house in the middle of the night and steal me away. The thought of losing her—”
My eyes filled with tears so fast, I couldn’t contain them this time.
“Sorry,” I said, wiping at my face.
But Mikko didn’t give me time to say anything else.
He rounded the island and gently tugged me off the barstool before I could protest. One second I was trying to hide the tears.
The next, I was wrapped in his arms. Not tight enough to trap me.
Not tentative enough to ask for permission.
Just there, like he’d decided I shouldn’t have to carry this one alone.
One hand settled between my shoulder blades, slowly gliding up and down my back, steady and comforting that caught me off-guard. The kind of touch that made me realize how desperately I needed someone to hold me until he did.
I let out a shaky breath against his chest. “She’s not dying yet.”
“I know.”
No platitudes. No promises he couldn’t make. Just those two words, but maybe that was why it worked. He wasn’t trying to convince me everything would be okay. He was reminding me that it was okay to not be okay.
After another long moment, I finally leaned back enough to look at him. “Sorry for crying all over your t-shirt.”
He glanced down. “At this point, I think all of my shirts are more snot than cotton.”
A laugh escaped before I could stop it.
His thumb brushed beneath my eye, catching the last tear before it could fall.
“So.” He tilted his head. “What can we do tonight to get your mind off all this?”
I sniffled once, then pulled back from his embrace. “I’m okay. Promise.”
One blond eyebrow lifted, but thankfully, he dropped it.
Dinner was peaceful, both of us focused on Leena instead of the whole slew of burdens we carried.
Again, she made attempts at more sounds than I’d heard before.
Her little nose scrunched with each excited giggle when we reacted, only spurring her to try again.
I leaned back in my seat, watching Mikko’s face light up with excitement each time she tried to mimic one of us, his eyes catching mine in a, did you see that? expression.
And of course, I saw it.
I saw every single thing this man did tonight, down to the way he blew raspberries on his daughter’s belly as he carried a red-sauce covered toddler to the bathtub. Their laughter carried down the hall, easing the heaviness of the day.
I cleared the table while they went through their bedtime routine, getting the dishwasher running and the kitchen back to the immaculate state Mikko usually left it in.
Dishes had become my thing, which at least made me feel less guilty over the fact that he hadn’t once let me cook a meal yet.
His voice carried all the way to the living room with each word he read from her bedtime story, and I couldn’t help but smile.
It was another twenty minutes before Mikko eased her bedroom door shut, the penthouse having settled into a comfortable silence.
I curled into one end of the couch with my tablet, trying yet another new book tonight.
This one was a monster romance full of fated mates and enough kinks to make anyone blush.
A few minutes later, Mikko wandered out of his bedroom in a fresh t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama pants, his own paperback tucked beneath one arm.
He gestured toward the opposite end of the couch. “You mind?”
“Only if you judge my book.”
“Should I?”
He peeked over the edge of my tablet, but I held it against my chest.
“Sit down, Finland.”
He chuckled under his breath before settling onto the other end of the couch.
For the next hour, neither of us spoke. He turned pages. I scrolled mine. Every so often one of us shifted, or reached for a drink, or quietly laughed at something on the page, but there was no conversation. No pressure. Just together.
And dammit, I liked it.
I liked it a lot.