Then, just as I'm about to kiss her goodnight, she asks a question I'm not ready for.
"Mom? Is Colt going to keep coming to the bakery?"
My heart clenches but I try to keep a straight face. "For a couple more weeks. It's part of his job with the hockey team."
"But after that?" She blinks up at me. "Will he still come around?"
I brush the hair from her forehead, buying time for an answer I don't know.
"I don't know, Morgs."
"Do youwanthim to?"
The honesty of the question nearly levels me.
Because the truth is that yes. I do. I want Colt Lane and his goofy charm around my bakery.
But wanting things is dangerous when you've spent eight years learning to survive without them.
"I think," I say slowly, "that right now, we should just enjoy having him around. And not worry too much about after."
It's a terrible answer.
But Morgan nods, satisfied enough to close her eyes. "Okay, Mom."
"Goodnight, baby." I kiss her forehead. "And remember, if you stay in your own bed all night, we'll get ice cream after school."
I pull the door halfway shut, pressing my back against the hallway wall, and breathe.
Morgan's question loops in my head like a song I can't turn off.
Is he going to keep coming around?
Will he stay?
Nobody stays. That's the lesson. My father wasn't around. Daniel walked out. My brothers love me, but they're scattered across the country, living their own lives.
I've builteverythingin my life on the assumption that I'm the only one who will take care of myself.
And then this man walks into my bakery, drops a tray of muffins, and arranges a three-hour beauty appointment like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Like taking care of me isn't an afterthought or a negotiation.
Like it's just something I deserve.
I press my palm flat against my stomach, where that warm, dangerous feeling still lingers from Debbie's words.
His girl.
Could I really risk everything to be exactly that?
Could I be Colt Lane's…girl?
Chapter 7
Colt
The Clawhouse smells like sweat this morning, and I fucking love it.
