“What happened?” he asks quietly, and I sigh and let my fingers press more firmly into his back. “Sweetheart?”
“There’s this guy, a dad of one of the kids, and he just… He made me uncomfortable. Like, I’ve seen him all the time since I started working at the center, even though his daughter is four so he shouldn’t have been at our end of the building, so I was starting to think it isn’t a coincidence. And today…”
“What’d he do?”
“My ribs don’t need realigned, Holden.”
“What?”
But his grip loosens. He doesn’t release me, though, and I blow out a slow breath. “He asked me out,” I finally say; the words burn on my tongue, or maybe it’s the bile that lingers at the base of my throat.
“Oh? When’s the date?”
“That’s not funny. It didn’t feel like he’d accept my ‘no’.”
Holden quietly clears his throat. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right, it’s not a joke. Does anyone else know?”
“Yeah, and I’m gonna tell Tara tomorrow morning. This way, if I go missing, y’all know where to look first.”
“And you sayI’mnot funny,” he grumbles, and I giggle shortly before pulling away.
“It’ll be okay. It’s just not been a fun day. I was—Holden, I was honestly kinda scared he’d, like, follow me home or something.”
“Well, you’re safe now, sweetheart. And if he comes back tomorrow and even so much as looks at you sideways, come home, alright? Don’t worry about your job, don’t worry about anything other than keeping you and Ash safe.”
“I will.”
“Good. Now, why don’t you go upstairs and take a bubble bath to relax? Ashton and I can get dinner ready.”
“You sure?”
“More than sure. Go, silly girl.”
I nod once, brush a kiss to his lips, then head to the stairs. I stop with one foot on the bottom step, watch as he joins Ashton in the living room, listen as he immediately starts playing dinosaurs with the toddler.
The words are easy to think. Three words, eight letters. So easy to run through my mind—fill me to the core—but so impossible to say aloud.
I love you.
A Table for Two
Iglanceupasfootsteps near the bedroom. No sounds come from across the hall, so I assume that Holden has managed to get Ashton to fall asleep in his own bed. My brows draw together when my boyfriend appears in the doorway, practically vibrating out of his skin with—something. Irritation, anger, frustration? I’m not sure, but I can see something is wrong.
Holden disappears into the en suite and shuts the door behind him with a snap. I stare at the door for a moment then finish writing the word I’d stopped on. Once finished, I set the pen aside and lock my journal in the nightstand drawer. Then I settle in against the pillows to wait for Holden.
He emerges from the bathroom five minutes later, and I’m distracted by the sight before me. I will never not be in awe whenever I see him like this—just a pair of shorts to sleep in, no shirt to hide the expanse of skin I’ve touched so many times. Comfortable. Ready to share a bed with me.Mine.
My distraction ends when he collapses onto the edge of the bed. His hand comes up to rub at his forehead, and his shoulders stay tense around his ears. I reach tentatively for him. He must sense it, even with his back turned to me.
He pulls away.
He never pulls away, but now, he does.
“Babe? What’s wrong?”
“Just tired,” he mutters as he stands and moves toward his nightstand.
“Cut the bullshit, Holden.”
