I blink. “Why am I mildly concerned?”
“Because you think too much.”
“Rude.”
His mouth twitches again as he shifts, straightening slightly and widening his legs, patting at the space between them on the blanket.
“Sit.”
I narrow my eyes suspiciously but move anyway, sitting in between his thighs and feeling the warmth of them on either side of my own.
“Cross your legs,” he instructs, a warm palm sliding over my thigh to guide them. “And sit up straight.”
I follow his instructions, feeling the heat of his breath against the side of my neck.
“Now what?”
“Close your eyes,” he murmurs.
“This feels culty.”
“Pen.”
I laugh softly under my breath but close my eyes anyway, feeling his own legs bend slightly and his arms come around my waist to rest on top of my own hands.
At first, all I hear is movement. Elle yelling something incomprehensible down the shoreline, and the wind through the trees. Gus splashing somewhere he probably shouldn’t be.
Then gradually, underneath it all, the softer sounds start surfacing. The rhythmic lap of water against the shore and the dry whisper of last year's reeds. The breeze moving through branches just beginning to bud.
Evan’s slow inhale and exhale behind me.
My shoulders loosen before I even realize they were tense, and without meaning to, my breathing starts matching his.
“See?” he murmurs.
I open my eyes slowly and let them fall to the fractures of sunlight rippling across the lake. With a nod, I turn my head to look at him, and the expression on his face catches me off guard.
This version of him—the quieter one beneath all the teasing and gruffness—is something he doesn’t show many people. It’s precious and rare and delicate as glass.
“So this is how you reset,” I say softly.
His gaze holds mine for a second. “Yeah.”
“Daddy?”
We both glance toward the shoreline to see Elle standing there with a pebble in one hand, staring at us suspiciously.
“Why’s Penny sitting in your lap?”
Heat creeps instantly up my neck.
“I’m not sitting in his lap,” I protest weakly.
Evan’s chest moves behind me in what feels suspiciously like a laugh, and his arms tighten slightly where they rest over mine. “She’s doing lake breaths.”
Elle considers that for a second, then points at his arms loosely wrapped around me.
“You don’t usually cuddle for lake breaths.”
