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Dare didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t like that she was out there on her own. He didn’t like that she was at another man’s house. And he didn’t like the useless feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness welling up inside him. Because if he felt like this when she was temporarily ten minutes away, how the hell was he gonna feel when she and Cora were permanently relocated—and out of touch—seven states away?
And he sure as fuck didn’t like how Maverick was looking at him, like he knew exactly where Dare’s head was right now.
Four hours later, every one of those feelings had grown stronger until Dare was a ball of goddamned restlessness sitting at his desk. Despite the fact that he’d been parked there for a while, the pile of contracts he was supposed to be reading and signing hadn’t gotten any smaller, because he couldn’t concentrate worth shit.
Missouri. That’s where Caine’s contact would be setting up Haven and Cora with a whole new life. The logistics message had come in after dinner and distracted the hell out of Dare ever since.
All of which was why, within another hour, he found himself standing sentinel in the darkness outside of Slider’s two-story white house, Dare’s bike parked along the side of the road in the shadows of a big tree. Out of sight but close enough that he could see silhouettes move past the lit windows. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Including his damn head, now that he knew Haven was just fine. Thank you very much.
Christ, he was fucked six ways from Sunday, wasn’t he?
The porch lights cast a golden glow over the barren flowerbeds that lined the front of the house and the badly faded wreath that hung on the front door. Both spoke to the loss this house, this family, had suffered. After Slider’s wife had died, that once colorful garden never saw another flower, and the springtime wreath she’d hung had never been changed. It was like the house was frozen in time, or slowly but surely decaying under the weight of that loss—a description that equally fit the man who lived inside, too.
Standing there in the dark, Dare realized for the first time how much Slider’s grief weighed on his own shoulders. Because he loved the guy like a brother and couldn’t do a goddamned thing to make it better, to fix what was broken, or to help ease the guy’s burden. Even if just a little.
And yet here was Haven, helping Slider. Finding a way to lighten his load. Helping someone she barely knew just because she could. Helping his brother in a moment of need, when she wasn’t in the best of places herself. And the thing was, she wouldn’t even know how meaningful helping Slider was. But Dare did, and the generosity and selflessness of her actions reached inside his chest and made things ache like a motherfuck. Gratitude, admiration, respect—he felt all of these for her. But that wasn’t all, not by a long shot.
Around one o’clock, the house went dark. Dare kept telling himself he’d go in another five minutes, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Which was why he was still there when the living room lights came on a little after three. Instinct told him that it was Haven who was in there awake and moving around. She’d told him she wasn’t a very good sleeper, and he knew enough about what her life had been now to know exactly why. And hell if he didn’t want to be the one who helped her finally find enough peace and security to give in to the pull and vulnerability of sleep.
That thought in his head, it took everything he had not to go knock on the door, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare her—or say something that would just make everything that much more complicated. And given how many times he’d taken her the night they’d stayed at his house, it was also crystal clear that he couldn’t keep his hands off of her either. So he kept his ass planted in the shadows, just standing watch because his mind wouldn’t let him do anything else.
And, truth be told, neither would his heart.
CHAPTER 25
Dare cleared out of Slider’s place before the guy came home from the towing company’s night shift. He didn’t want Slider to think there was any reason he couldn’t count on the women to take care of the boys on their own, nor did he want to explain to anyone why he felt the need to watch over them. Or, at least, over one of them.
Not having slept, the morning air rushing over his skin helped revive him, but what he really needed was a major infusion of caffeine and a belly full of sugar to jump-start his day. So he passed by the fast-food joints and the chichi coffeehouses on the strip leading into Frederick and made his way to his favorite local hole-in-the-wall—Dutch’s. Renowned for its breakfasts, it was only open for breakfast and lunch, mostly because Dutch said he was too old to stand on his feet through a dinner service, too.
