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“I’m not your parents, Catherine. I won’t ever abandon you. Do you believe me?”
“I believe you, and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you yesterday. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you needed reassurance from me. I love you, Elliot, and I want to be a family with you.”
He swallowed hard, his mouth opening and closing twice before he spoke. “I want that too. More than anything.”
“Hug.”
His arms closed around me with zero hesitation, and we fell backward on the couch, tangled around each other. I pressed my face into his chest, inhaled his warm, clean scent, and exhaled my relief.
I was home.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Elliot
Ihadmygirlsback, so why couldn’t I shake the tightness in my chest?
This was all I wanted. The two of them, in my house, never leaving, making them mine for all time.
I dragged my hands through my hair, noting a slight tremor. This was no good. Whatever this was needed to stop.
Leaning over Catherine, who was propped up against the headboard of our bed, I pressed a kiss to Joey’s fuzzy head. She paused nursing to look at me with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Good night, little girl,” I murmured before kissing Catherine’s forehead. “I’m going to go shower.”
Catherine grabbed my arm and rubbed her face against it before kissing the crook of my elbow. She always did things like that, kissing me in spots that weren’t common. Any place she could fit her lips.
Kisses like touching down on the moon.
Like javelin throws.
Long jumps.
The landing was what mattered.
Sucking in a harsh breath that didn’t fill my constricted lungs, I pulled myself away and left the room. In my bathroom, I closed the door and turned on the shower. Hot, boiling. I didn’t get in right away, letting the room fill with steam, the mirror fogging over.
In my distorted reflection, I barely made out my shape. I rubbed my chest. Still too damn tight.
Discarding my clothes in a pile on the ground, I stepped into the scalding shower, so hot the burn numbed my skin. I stood under the beating water, willing my chest to loosen for the tremors in my hands to fade.
Was this the residue of my two-day-long panic attack? It should have been ebbing by now.
Cool air sliced across my arm, and my head whipped sideways to see Catherine, my Catherine undressed and putting her foot in the shower.
“No! Don’t come in here.” My frantic bellow echoed off the tile walls.
She jumped back, her hands over her breasts, eyes round and wounded. “I’m sorry. I—”
As she turned, my arm shot out to grab her nape and spin her back to me. “The water, sweetheart. It’s too hot for you.” Keeping her under my hand, I twisted the dial to make the temperature more bearable.
“I thought you wanted to be alone. I should have asked, not presumed,” she quavered, still clutching her chest.
I tugged her forward into the shower with me. “I always want you with me. You really don’t have to ask. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”
She smoothed her palms over my reddened skin. “And what about you? Who’s stopping you from getting hurt?”
Releasing a heavy sigh, I dropped my forehead to the top of her head. “I guess that’s you. If you hadn’t come, I probably would have boiled my flesh from my bones.”
