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“They invited me. You should have a message from Aunt Rachel saying it’s okay.”
With a sigh, I flipped my phone over and saw a text waiting from my sister. I blew out a slow breath as I thought it through. “Yeah, that’s fine. Pack some clean pajamas and don’t forget your toothbrush!”
The excited pounding of her footsteps had me laughing under my breath. I raked my hands through my ponytail, careless of what mess it left behind. “You don’t have to apologize to me about what you did, Ian.”
“No?”
I shook my head. “You’ve always done this. It’s in your nature. And I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have benefit from it than my daughter.” I stood, and heedless of The Thoughts or the fears that came with them, I laid my hand on his shoulder—the muscles warm and solid under my palm—and leaned down to drop a kiss on the top of his head.
This close, I could smell his shampoo, the soap he used on his skin. Even after a day of work, Ian smelled clean and masculine and wonderful. Where his hand sat on the table, his fingers curled into a fist, and I slowly backed away.
His eyes tracked my every movement.
“Thank you,” I told him, squeezing my hand and then walking away.
He sat at the table, unmoving, as I left the room to go talk to Sage, and my heart didn’t stop hammering in my chest until I was safely upstairs. That hand clenching into a fist—something I’d normally imagine as a helpless gesture that screamed of restraint—flashed behind my eyes, and I struggled to get my pulse under control. The thought of being in a house with him all night … just the two of us, loomed big and dangerous if I didn’t get my shit under control.
My phone dinged again just as I hit the second floor, and instead of a message from Rachel, it was Poppy. The muscles in my back and shoulders went slack with relief when I read it.
Poppy: Any chance you want to join me and Ivy for a couple of drinks tonight? Cameron’s going out and she doesn’t feel like sitting home alone.
Me: YES. Please. Tell me when and where.
Chapter 15
Ian
It took me a long time to move from where she’d left me, staring at my hand curled into a fist on the surface of the table. Something felt off. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but under the surface of my skin, it was almost like someone turned a wrench one too many times, and the pieces inside me didn’t fit together right, straining at the edges from too much force.
Upstairs, I could hear Sage and Harlow move around, the water in their bathroom flipped on and off, the low hum of their conversation inaudible as I finally got up and moved from the kitchen, wandering into my bedroom and shutting the door behind me with a quiet click. For a moment, I sank against it and let my head rest on the hard surface.
Outside, the wind picked up, strong gusts that caused creaking in the joints of the roof and walls. It only added to that unease inside me that was churning louder and louder, a steady buzzing in the back of my head. I busied myself by putting away a load of laundry and stripping the sheets off my bed. The front door closed with a slam, and I knew Sage had left for the night.
I’d been so worried that I overstepped with Harlow, and not only was that not the case, I couldn’t help but worry that the growing disquiet stemmed from somewhere—something—else between us. Anxiety over what that was gnawed at the edges of my mind, leaving behind a knotty mess that I didn’t want to look too closely at.
Through the walls, with the wind gusting outside, I could hear the running water of the shower in the upstairs bathroom. Why was it so loud? I’d never really noticed it before. Chest heaving as I took a few deep breaths, my hands shook slightly as I tugged on new clean sheets over my king-size mattress, my mind ruthlessly focusing on the task in front of me. The elastic edge snapped uselessly off the corner where I hadn’t affixed it properly because I yanked too hard, too quickly.
I stood, inhaling slowly through my nose with my hand on my hips. Pushing my tongue into the side of my cheek, I bent and got the fitted sheet hooked on, then smoothed out the rest of the bedding. The house creaked again, the wind picking up.
As I tossed the pillows up against the solid wood headboard, I didn’t worry too much about making it look neat because with the howling wind, the groan of the water coming through the pipes, I was too distracted to think about what the fucking bed looked like. A glance at the weather app on my phone showed a storm front rolling in, and I grimaced just as the sound of the shower cut off.
Instead of pinching my eyes shut, rolling through all the ramifications of a finished shower, I focused on the sound of the angry weather outside. It was like a mirror to what was happening inside me. External forces pushed and pushed and pushed, testing the limits of how strong the foundation was.
Right now, my foundation felt like a house of fucking cards. One stiff burst of air coming from the wrong direction, and I’d topple.
It wasn’t raining yet, no slow rolls of thunder shaking the windows, no lightning flashes filling the rooms. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as another gust of wind cut through the house, the creaking more ominous than it was before. And just on the heels of it, the lights flickered but came back on.
I held my breath and waited a few more seconds, already thinking about where the generator was in the barn and if I had enough gas to power it through the night if necessary. I left my bedroom, phone tucked into the back pocket of my jeans when the lights cut out again.
They didn’t come back on.
A loud thump from upstairs had my head snapping up, and after I clicked on the flashlight on my phone, I took the steps two at a time, calling her name as I cleared the top one.
The bathroom door whipped open just as I reached out to knock on it, and I collided with a very wet, very naked Harlow, wrapped only in a small towel. When she ran smack into my chest, she squeaked, her hands clutching at the towel to keep it around her. The cell phone bounced off the ground, the light almost immediately extinguished when it landed face down. My arms wrapped around her to keep us from falling, my breath snarled to a halt in my throat, and the ends of her hair dripped over my forearm.
All around me was the damp, fragrant smell of citrus and soap and the wet towel around her body did nothing to disguise the weight of her body against mine. A brick in my throat kept me from swallowing properly, and something else entirely diverted the blood flow from my brain. It was the only explanation because I didn’t immediately pull back. Why wasn’t I pulling back?
“Hi,” she whispered. “It’s really dark in that bathroom when the lights go out.”
