The worst betrayal was Barnaby. He was gone. The bear I'd adored since I was a baby.
I realized I'd gone off in my head, but Dion hadn't interrupted me or seemed impatient. Which was dangerous. I was the only person I could rely on, and I'd had a bad dream, so what? "I can handle this myself," I insisted, even as my voice wavered.
His expression softened, and he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I know you can. That's not the question."
"Then what is?"
"Whether you should have to." His gaze was steady, unwavering. "There's no weakness in accepting help, Emily."
I looked away, uncomfortable with the understanding in his eyes. My stomach growled loudly, breaking the tension, and I felt my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Dion chuckled. "Hungry?"
"A little," I admitted.
"Good. I make a mean breakfast." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching his arms above his head. I couldn't help but stare at the play of muscles under his tee, the tattoos that snaked up his arms telling stories I couldn't yet read.
When he turned back to me, I quickly averted my gaze. "Bathroom's all yours. There's a new toothbrush in the drawer under the sink. Take your time—I'll get breakfast started."
He padded out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. And they were dangerous thoughts indeed. I shouldn't be noticing how attractive he was. Shouldn't be feeling this pulltoward him. Not when my life was in shambles, not when I had put him in danger just by being here.
In the bathroom, I found the toothbrush where he said it would be, still in its packaging. There was something oddly intimate about using his bathroom, his toiletries. I brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face, trying to gather my composure, then looked up.
The woman in the mirror looked like a stranger—hair tousled, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. I was drowning in Dion's t-shirt, the neckline slipping off one shoulder, the hem hitting mid-thigh. I looked... small.
Little.
"Stop it," I whispered to my reflection. "You don't get to have that here. You don't get to need that."
But for the first time in years, the voice that usually shouted down my desires was quieter, less convincing. Because for a few hours in Dion's arms, I'd felt safe. Protected. Like maybe, just maybe, it would be okay to let someone else be strong for a while.
And that terrified me more than any nightmare.
I couldn't afford to indulge in fantasies, not with people trying to kidnap me, not with children's lives at stake. I needed to be the strong, capable Emily who had survived on her own all these years. I was about to leave when I spotted a hairbrush on the counter. Next to it was a collection of hair ties, including several fancy ones—a tiny bow, a plastic flower, and a glittery pom-pom.
My fingers hovered over them, something inside me desperate to reach out, to use one of the pretty ties instead of the plain elastic ones currently holding my hair. I snatched my hand back as if burned. What was wrong with me? Those clearly weren't meant for me. Dion probably had them for...
Well, I didn't want to think about why he might have them.
When I emerged from the bathroom, the smell of coffee and bacon guided me to the kitchen. Dion stood at the stove, still inthe same t-shirt, but now wearing jeans that hung low on his hips. The dogs sat nearby, watching his every move with hopeful eyes.
"Perfect timing," he said without turning. "Coffee's ready and breakfast is almost done."
I hovered awkwardly in the doorway, unsure what to do with myself. "Can I help with anything?"
"Just sit and relax," he replied, flipping what looked like French toast in the pan. "You're my guest."
I slid onto one of the bar stools, fidgeting with the hem of the oversized t-shirt. "About that... I appreciate everything you've done, but I need to get to work today."
Dion's shoulders tensed, but his voice remained casual. "Work? After what happened last night?"
"I can't just disappear again. I have cases, responsibilities." I wrapped my hands around the mug of coffee he'd placed in front of me, drawing comfort from its warmth. "People are counting on me, and it's already a long weekend, as we're off on Monday."
I didn't add that my boss would use any excuse to fire me.
He turned then, spatula in hand, his expression carefully neutral. "Emily, someone tried to kidnap you a second time. Going back to your normal routine isn't safe."
"So, what am I supposed to do? Hide forever?" I took a sip of coffee to steady myself. "I have kids who need me, Dion. Foster children who don't have anyone else looking out for them."
