The toes of Slade’s boots inch forward, daring him. I shift, and the back of my hand presses into the solid muscle underneath his shirt to keep the Goliath in place.
“You need to go,” I tell Miles, bracing myself against my protector.
“You’ve made a huge mistake, Sarah. The only thing you’re doing is sending yourself and our kids back to the shithole you grew up in.”
It should sting, but it doesn’t. Growing up the way I did taught me how to work and appreciate every single thing I’ve earned. My mom is right. Small and simple leaves you with less to screw up.
“They arenotyour kids. No father lets his children starve.” Slade’s tone is so tense, I expect fire to shoot forth.
“They’re only starving if she’s not feeding them.” Miles’s arrogant, dark eyes run over Slade. “This is a joke. You think you have some place here?”
Slade takes a step closer, his nostrils flaring. “They’re mine. All of them. It’s up to Sarah if you’re ever involved in their lives and to what capacity, but to be clear, it won’t be because they need you.”
My entire body goes still. Silence ensues as Miles pulls open his door. He says something, but I don’t hear whatever garbage he spews.
I lift my gaze to peer up at the big man who just said. . .something.
My heart doesn’t know what to do. It’s fluttering all around. Speed up. Slow down. Speed up. Slow down.
I put a hand on my chest.Did Slade just say that we are. . .his?
I’m lost in some kind of momentary time warp. Slade watches Miles back out of the drive, but I can only stare at him. This man, who sat with me and held my kids while we were sick. The one who tookus in when we needed it. He’s been showing up day after day. Could he have possibly meant what I think he just said?
I need a second to wrap my head around it. Where the hell is a doorbell camera when you need one? I need proof. Evidence that this solid, solitary, overtly blunt, and semi-emotionless man just said thatweare his.
My mind can’t keep up, and it’s a little hard to breathe. Ollie, squeezing his neck and whispering that he loves him, slams into me all over again.
Slade turns to me. “Are you ok?” His voice is low and gentle.
I don’t know. What the hell is it with this driveway and things happening in it?
“Y’all ok?” Brandon’s distant voice snaps me from my wonder.
Slade waves a hand, but his eyes don’t leave mine.
I need a freaking moment. I turn, taking the porch steps two at a time, my heart hammering in my chest. I continue on toward the kitchen, but stop when I hear the front door click shut. I spin, and the man who I think just said what he said stands inside the door.
“Sarah, what happened?” His hands move to his hips while I feel like I might actually hyperventilate. “Did he—”
“What the hell was that?” It comes out breathy, and my throat might actually be closing up.
“He won’t talk to you—”
I hold up my hand, reminding myself to inhale and exhale. I’m in love with him. Totally and completely, and I’ve only just realized how badly I need him to love me back. But not just me. Ollie and Frankie, too.
I’ve never been claimed or wanted for me. The messy, raw version that Slade should have grown tired of. The me who cries into his shirt and drools when she sleeps, so freaking tired from life screwing with me. The one who hides behind sarcasm and poise to shield me from the pain and shame that lies beneath.
I’ve been terrified this whole time, believing there’s no way a man likethiscould ever want. . .me.
My eyes burn as I remind myself to breathe. “No. Not that.” I shake my head.
He stares at me. He cannot go and say something like that without explaining himself.
My heart pounds and my throat narrows to the size of a straw. I rotate my finger, needing him to get with it and explain himself. Right now.
“Sarah.” His weight shifts from one big foot to the other, his shoulders holding strong. “I seriously suck at charades. They weren’t lying.”
Is he trying to be funny? Now!
