“Well, it’s not.” He uses his thumb to wipe a tear off my cheek. “You’re my family. She’s my family. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you guys. Nothing. I don’t expect you to be perfect, Amber. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. I just expect you to let me help you carry it.”
I let out a shuddering breath, the fight draining out of me. “I’m trying. It’s just hard.”
“I know.” He pulls me off the stool and into a hug.
It’s a brother hug—solid, grounding, smelling of sawdust and safety. I bury my face in his shoulder and let myself cry.
“You’re never going to lose us,” he says against my hair. “I promise you that. We’re in this forever. No matter what.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Fallon
The kitchen is spotless.Not a speck of grease on the stainless steel, not a crumb on the floor.
I’ve been at it for an hour, wiping down surfaces that were already clean, but it’s better than sitting around waiting for Knox to get back from the bank.
I whistle an old Beatles tune, the sound echoing off the high ceilings, trying to fill the silence of an empty restaurant. I’m just polishing the faucet on the prep sink when the back door opens.
I don’t have to turn around to know who it is. The air shifts. The scent changes—something floral and sweet cutting through the smell of bleach and sanitizer.
Amber.
I turn, a grin already tugging at my lips, but it freezes halfway there.
She stands by the door, shaking a light dusting of snow from her coat. She’s wearing her hair in a high ponytail, exposing the long, graceful line of her neck.
She’s got on the softest, pinkest cardigan I’ve ever seen, fuzzy enough that I just want to rub my face against it, paired with dark jeans tucked into sturdy boots.
She looks fucking beautiful. Gorgeous enough that my brain short-circuits for a second.
She’s haunted every dream I’ve had for the last two weeks. In them, she’s laughing, or cooking, or looking at me with those hazel eyes like I’m the only man on earth.
But as she steps fully into the light of the kitchen, I notice something else. Her eyes are rimmed with red. The skin around them looks puffy and tender.
The grin slides off my face. My defenses snap up, instinct kicking in.
“Amber? You okay?” I abandon the rag on the counter and walk toward her. I stop a few feet away, not wanting to crowd her if she needs space, but close enough to catch her if she sways. “What happened?”
She offers me a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine, Fallon. Just didn’t sleep well.”
“Rough night?”
“Yeah. Maisie had a nightmare,” she says, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. Her hand trembles slightly. “A bad one.”
I wince. I know how much that kid means to her. “I’m sorry. Is she okay now?”
“She is. It just... it took a while to settle her down.” She sighs, her shoulders drooping under an invisible weight. “It’s a long story.”
I nod, keeping my mouth shut. If she wanted to tell me the story, she would. I know better than to pry.
“You look exhausted,” I observe gently. “Why don’t you take the day off? Go home, catch up on some sleep. I’ll cover your station. I can explain it to Knox when he gets back from the bank.”
She shakes her head immediately. “No. I need to work, Fallon. Honestly. It’s good for me. If I go back there and just sitin that quiet house, I’ll just start thinking too much. I need to keep busy.”
I study her face. She looks fragile, but there’s a steely resolve in her jaw that I recognize. It’s the same look she gets when she’s hauling heavy buckets of flowers or scrubbing a stubborn stain out of the floor.
She doesn’t want coddling. She wants purpose.
