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I hate it. And I feel helpless.
I can keep Thea safe, but how can I heal her heart? I can tell her I love her over and over, but I’m not sure it’s enough.
Especially when she got a call from Reagan this morning and found out all the books in the library were ruined. That was the first time I saw Thea’s control slip since she cried in my arms two days ago.
As she hung up the phone, there was sheer devastation in her eyes. “All the books,” she whispered. “All of them, ruined. And it’s—” She cut herself off, but I knew what she was thinking.
She was thinking it was all her fault.
The library—the place she loves—destroyed in an attempt to hurt her. It’s not her fault in the least, but I know Thea doesn’t see it that way.
I keep remembering that devastated look. And my heart aches to see Thea hurting so badly.
“Ben?” Thea touches my arm. Her brows wing up, concern darkening her eyes. “Is something wrong? You’re frowning.”
“No, sweetheart.” I brush a soft kiss across her lips. “I was just thinking.”
“Okay…” Her tone is skeptical, but she doesn’t push it. Instead, she snuggles into my side, pulling the knit blanket Georgia gave her over both of us. “I’m really okay, Ben. I don’t want you worrying.”
“I’ll always worry about you, Thea. I love you.”
A soft sigh whispers against my neck. “I love you, too.”
We both fall silent. And in the quiet, I absorb everything about her. The way she rests her head on my chest, her soft curls brushing my chin. The soft scent of her hair—fresh and summery and sweet—and the way her skin feels like satin beneath my fingers. And the way her body fits so perfectly to mine.
I never want to let go.
“Thea!” Laila rushes back into the living room, a stack of at least ten books in her arms. Then she stops, taking in the sight of Thea in my arms. At first I’m worried—Laila has seen me hug and kiss Thea, but most of the real cuddling is saved for after bedtime—will she be upset by this?
But my worry disappears as soon as Laila comes over to the couch and climbs up next to Thea, putting her small arms around her. In a much quieter voice, she says, “I have lots of good books to read to you, Thea. I picked ones to make you feel better.”
Oh. Another surge of rightness sweeps through me. A certainty that this is meant to be.
And then I have another idea. Or rather, Laila gave it to me.
I think I know what might make Thea feel better.
When the doorbell chimes as we’re just finishing dinner, Thea glances at me with a worried expression. “Do you think it’s Cole? Or Leo? Do they have news?”
I know who it is, but I’m not giving it away yet.
Instead, I reach under the table to take her hand, and give it a little squeeze. “No, they would have called or texted first. And I haven’t heard from either of them.”
“I guess it could be Maya. Or Georgia. Or Elle.” She lists off the three other women living here. “No one mentioned stopping by, but…” Her eyes flash with momentary fear. “It couldn’t be… No one can…”
“No, sweetheart.” Rising from my chair, I gently tug Thea up so she’s tucked under my arm. “We’re safe here. I promise.”
Laila’s still at her seat, and she looks between us. “You could answer the door,” she offers patiently, like she’s the parent and we’re the children. “Or look at the video.”
“Oh, of course.” Thea glances at Laila, giving her a little smile. “How silly of me. We can look at the camera.”
Thea starts to move toward the living room, where her phone is sitting on the coffee table, but I tighten my arm to hold her still. “Wait.”
Her brows arch up in confusion. “Why?”
“Just… let me do it.”
She throws a puzzled look at me, but doesn’t argue. “Okay, Ben.”
