"Noooo! You have to come home!"
Dani's cries shatter me. All this time I considered myself a loner. On my own in every way. I didn't know. I didn't even consider this as a possibility. I didn't realize that my short stint as a caretaker would mean catching feelings, not only for the man sitting next to me but for these precious girls who were once strangers. Who hurt because of me.
I'm hurting Dani. I'm hurting Madi, too. That poor girl is the one at home alone dealing with her little cousin while Bronwyn works the store alone because I'm the problem.
Kace should be with his girls. Focusing on himself and healing. Not here with me. This isn't what I want. And I'm certain it's not what Kace wants for his girls, either. I can see it on his face.
That's what I heard in his voice when I woke up. That awareness is in his expression and how it tightens, and the way his hand fists over the phone so hard his knuckles are white. He's reconsidering our agreement, and…I don't blame him. Right now, I am too.
My heart pounds harder, feeling like it will burst out due to the force. One of us must address the problem before the girls are hurt more than they've already been, but I can't allow Kace to be the bad guy. To take the blame when Dani is already so upset.
But isn't that love? Doing the hard stuff even though it hurts? Putting others before ourselves? I can't knowingly hurt them. Not anymore than I already have. And I can't make this harder on Kace, because in the time I've spent with him, I've gotten to know him. He'll feel guiltier if he has to call an end to our arrangement.
And I'll feel worse because of it.
I'm lost in a bubble of remorse as I hear Kace promise Dani he'll head home soon, and he teases her about something. They chat a bit more, with Kace working some sort of daddy magic until Dani stops crying and soft giggles emerge from her chest instead. I watch, numb, as those beautiful flashes of dimples crater her softly rounded cheeks.
And I listen. Heart aching. My body riddled with tension and sadness and painful knowing despite the fact I feel better now than I have in weeks thanks to the medicine.
The moment the call ends, Kace shoves his phone into a pocket and grasps his crutches. He shoves to his feet, body coiled tight from head to toe.
I falter over the words I need to say. "Kace, I'm s-sorry. I hate that Dani's so upset and having nightmares."
"Things will settle down eventually."
Kace's jaw locks, and I worry for his teeth. I pull my legs to my chest and hug them tight. "I'm sure they will but I think… I think…"
"Lindsey…"
We stop and stare at each other. I see his thoughts etched in his expression, and I inhale and lift my chin, determined despite the wobble in my voice when I rasp, "I think when I get out of here I should…move back in with Bronwyn."
The words emerge in a gush, but once they're out, I try to suck in a breath and can't. I part my lips, but nothing happens. No air in. None out. I can't even blink. Because, yeah, while I know I'm being proactive with my health and theirs, I feel as devastated as Dani right now.
Like I've lost the best thing to happen to me in ages because I can't get my act together.
It's true. I have lost them. Kace. The girls. The laughter and love of their special, blended family. I'm too much for them. My body and I and all that I bring into their world with my very presence is too much with everything else they have going on.
Kace is quiet. Too quiet. And in the silent seconds that follow, one thing becomes abundantly clear. He looks like he wants to protest my words, but he doesn't. He doesn't tell me not to be silly or that we'll discuss it later after I'm out of the hospital.
He doesn't argue that it's a bad idea and unnecessary.
And that says everything, doesn't it?
"Lindsey."
My name scrapes out of his throat. I hear his pain, but I see the truth on his face, and I brace myself.
"I appreciate all you've done for us. For me. But I think…I think that's a good idea."
I nod again and twist the sheet around my fingers. "The girls obviously need some space," I manage. "Dani's been through enough with her mom. And Mads. She shouldn't have to deal with more than she already is. Besides, we were temporary."
He wipes a hand over his face and looks away. Looks upset.
Like he wants to argue but can't. He's not a man who'd lie to soothe feelings. Not when it comes to something as important as this.
"It's not like you won't be around," he says softly. "At the bookstore and in our lives. It's just— I should've known living in such close quarters could get tricky."
My fingers are on fire with pain from being twisted in the sheet, but I twist harder, to put the pain there instead of inside me.
