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A frown marred Evelyn’s sweet brow.
“But you get here on Mondays and Wednesdays and Fridays. Friday is tomorrow.” She held up a finger as proof. I came to stand at her stool, spun her toward me, and knelt so we were face-to-face.
“I think maybe you’re ready for a teacher who knows more things than me, that way you can learn to ride superfast.” I couldn’t help but run my fingers through her hair that was still matted and littered with dirt.
She definitely needed a bath. I had the thought to tell Caleb, but that was not my place.
“That’s okay. I already go superfast.” She grinned, her tiny, gapped teeth on display.
My heart fisted in my chest. This was harrowing. But it only got so much worse when a swell of blazing energy slashed through the air.
I snapped up to find Caleb looking at me like I’d committed another one of those mortal sins.
Except this time, I felt like I had. Guilt constricted, cutting off the flow of oxygen that breathed life, cutting off something that had come to feel intrinsic.
That right there was where I’d gotten myself into trouble.
But I’d gone hunting for it, hadn’t I?
Begged for it.
I ripped myself from that steely stare and turned it on the child.
“I love teaching you, Evelyn, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to come here anymore.”
“Why not?” Sadness twisted through her little face, her disappointment so thick I choked on it.
I didn’t think I could answer that, so I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “I’m sorry, Evie-Love, but I think it’s for the best.”
“But you’re my favorite day.” Heartache saturated her innocence, this sweet, sweet girl I wanted to keep.
Grief welled in my chest, and I could barely force out the haggard words as I touched her cheek. “You’re my favorite day, too.”
And that was why I had to go.
Because I realized I wanted them all.
I lingered there for too long before I forced myself to straighten. I looked at Caleb.
Another feigned smile contorted my face, though I was pretty sure the tear that escaped and slipped down my cheek gave me away.
His jaw clenched.
“I’m sorry about what happened today,” I told him.
Then I dipped out without allowing anyone to say anything else.
I beelined for the front door.
I’d almost made it out when that dark presence enclosed on me from behind.
An ice-storm that froze everything in its path.
Me included.
I couldn’t move where I faced away, my hand on the knob, my escape right there, but I couldn’t peel myself from the spot.
“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was low, sharper than a blade.
Inhaling a shaky breath, I forced myself to speak. “You asked me to stay with Evelyn for two days. I finished the job, and now I’m going home.”
I went to open the door, but a hand crashed down on the wood above my head, slamming it shut.
Those vacant walls rattled.
My heart pounded at a ravaged beat.
The air grew dense. Dark and volatile.
“And let me get this straight…you don’t plan to come back.”
There was no question behind it. Just anger as his hot breath breezed over the back of my ear, sending a wash of chills sailing across my skin.
“It’s time, don’t you think? I let her get hurt.”
“You said it was an accident.”
My ravaging heart hitched, and somehow, I found the lie. “This afternoon was just too stressful.”
“Coward,” he grumbled that time.
Heat radiated from his skin, flames licking out to burn me alive.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re her uncle?” I knew I shouldn’t dig deeper, but the question clawed out, anyway. Needing to know. To understand.
The air whooshed from his lungs.
I slowly turned to face him, needing to see what was written in his expression.
I shouldn’t have.
He was right there. All fierce and powerful, barely contained strength bristling in his tall, towering body.
Fury underscored it all. A fury I was a fool to want to understand.
He was right. I was reckless. Totally and completely reckless that I kept coming here. That I’d offered him that piece of myself last night. That I’d fallen for a little girl who wasn’t mine to keep. It was why I needed to leave.
Yet there I was, staring up at that blaze of blue while he worked his jaw so hard I thought it might crack.
“How do you know that?” he ground out.
“She told me,” I said on a whisper, the words coming out in some sort of plea. “She told me her mother was never coming back. You can’t expect her to never speak of it again. She needs support, Mr. Greyson. Someone to talk to. She needs to be able to be herself here in your home. Feel safe and cherished and loved. I’ve never even heard her call you uncle. Why is that?”
