“I was hoping you had that answer.”
Her chocolate eyes met mine. “I don’t have a lot of answers these days.”
“Getting attached to you is risky. Getting attached to him is . . .” I swallowed hard. “It’s petrifying.”
“If it hurts. If it’s petrifying . . .” A crease formed between her eyebrows. “Why did you come to the loft? Why do you keep coming?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I can’t seem to stop.”
“Do you want to?”
I lifted my hand, tucking that stubborn lock of hair away once more. “No.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MEMPHIS
Knox’s story kept spinning in my head, like a book or movie I couldn’t stop replaying.
He’d gone through a pregnancy. He’d watched the birth of his child. He’d been a father. Then in an instant, his baby had been gone, ripped from his life.
I ached for him. I raged for him. In the hours since I’d been home, my emotions had been riding a rollercoaster.
Knox and I had sat in the hotel room earlier, shrouded in silence until finally he’d brushed his lips to mine in a chaste kiss and left without another word.
Drake let out a string of babbles from his play mat. The oohs and aahs and guhs were coming more often these days.
I stretched out beside him, watching him kick his legs and work his arms. Above him, the mobile of safari animals smiled and swung as he hit one with a fist.
He smiled.
I smiled.
He cooed.
I cooed, mimicking his sound.
The idea of someone taking him away made my stomach churn. How Knox had endured it, how he’d walked away . . .
I pressed a hand to my heart and stared at my son.
We were still navigating through rough waters. Drake and I were close to drowning more often than not. Just last night I’d nearly cracked and answered my phone.
Then Knox had kissed me and as much as I wanted to say it had helped, that kiss had just sent me careening over a waterfall.
The imprint of his large hands lingered on my cheeks. The soft pressure of his lips. The sweep of his tongue.
A kiss to change a life. Or destroy one.
Beyond the windows, the sky was darkening, the Montana days growing shorter and shorter as winter approached. A flash of light had me shooting off the floor and tiptoeing to the glass. The hum of the garage opening below the loft rippled beneath my feet as Knox’s truck eased into the driveway and into its stall beside the Volvo.
I held my breath as a door slammed shut, watching at the window to see which direction he’d head. When he started across the driveway for his own home, I sighed.
Was I relieved? Disappointed? Both?
Knox hesitated on his front porch, glancing over his shoulder and up to my window. He spotted me and lifted a hand.
I waved back.
Then he was gone, under his own roof, flipping on lights as he moved through his home.
I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to the cold glass.
Knox was a good man. He was as reliable as the sunrise.
As breathtaking as the Montana sunsets. He was the type of person I wanted Drake to become.
I stared at his house as he moved into his bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom, probably for a shower after being in the restaurant all day. Only a door separated me from a naked Knox. I pictured the water sluicing over his muscled arms. Dripping over those tattoos. Cascading down the rippled planes of his chest and stomach.
My imagination would have to suffice.
I tore myself away from the window and picked up Drake from the floor. He was up later tonight than normal, but Jill had told me that he’d had a longer nap at daycare, so we’d spent more time playing tonight.
“It’s better this way,” I told Drake as I ran his bath in the sink.
He smiled as he splashed in the sudsy water.
It hurt to lose Knox. It hurt to lose him before I’d even had him. But it was better this way. I had no idea what the future held. I struggled to plan for tomorrow, let alone the next five years.
And I would not be the woman who took another child from Knox.
THE BEEP of my phone’s alarm jolted me out of a dreamless sleep. I fumbled to shut off the beeping so it wouldn’t wake
Drake.
Drake.
He hadn’t woken up.
“Drake.” I gasped, panic racing through my veins as I flew out of bed, running to the crib. My heart was in my throat as I reached for him. What was wrong? Why hadn’t he woken up?
He stirred as I hefted him into my arms, his eyelids heavy as he blinked them open.
I scanned him head to toe, feeling across his pajamas. Two arms. Two legs. I pressed my hand to his chest, feeling his breath expand his ribs and letting his heart beat against my palm.