Page 60 of Saddle Storm

He came for me?

The idea that would have once been everything—is now shattering me piece by piece.

That’s impossible.

Who told me he left?

Jasper. Jasper told me he left with a cheerleader.

Absently, I follow Silas out to the living room. Max is asleep on the couch with Silas standing over him like he’s trying to determine which angle to lift him.

I sigh. “You can’t pick him up.”

“Neither can you.”

I move past him and give my kid a little shake. “Hey.”

His eyelids blink open and he hums.

“Come on. There’s a nice warm bed here for you.”

He pushes off the couch and Silas leads him to the other room, helping me strip him from the suit I bought him for tonight. One he’ll likely outgrow before needing again. I watch with a ball in my stomach as Silas tucks him in, before turning to me.

“You can’t tell him you saw his Spider-Man underwear.” I tell him, stepping into the kitchen for water or anything that might calm my racing heart, the questions, the confession that’s screaming to be released. One that might break his heart the same way it has mine.

“I won’t.” He smiles. “But do you know if they carry those in my size?”

I bite my bottom lip, barely registering him behind me.

“Earth to Storm,” Silas calls playfully.

“Hmm?” I turn.

He chuckles. “I just asked if they carry those in my size which opened you up for a penis joke—but the moment’s gone.”

A laugh slips out of me, brief and unconvincing. “Oh sorry. Promise—next penis joke—I’ll be right on top of it.”

He winces. “Certainly hope not.”

That leaves us both laughing and he passes me, his eyes still shimmering in that blue that’s always been my favorite color. He opens the fridge and scans it. Then takes out two beer bottles, flips the caps, and sets them both on the counter.

I grin and reach for one, taking a few swigs like I’m counting on it to settle me in a way I know it can’t.

Grinning, he takes my bottle and sets it aside like he’s jealous of it. Then he steps into my space. “Where were we?”

I manage to lift my chin, swallowing. “I don’t know . . . where?” This proximity, his warmth, it feels . . . safe and yet scares the hell out of me.

“I think you were about to tell me who told you I left with a—”

I shut his lips with mine. Like if I don’t, something in me is going to crack wide open. It’s messy and unplanned. All heat and breath and a sharp edge of need. Like I’m trying to outrun my thoughts by pressing into him instead.

Silas catches on fast. Faster than I expect. There’s no pause, no confusion—just his body adjusting to mine, his mouth answering with a depth that knocks me out of my boots.

He pulls back, eyes locked on mine. What will he see in them? Betrayal? Guilt? I haven’t said a word and yet feel like I’m spilling my guts.

He takes a swig of my beer before handing it back, his eyes locked on mine. My fingers go loose around the bottle, and I have to set it down, gripping the counter to steady myself.

His good hand finds my hip, steady and sure. He taps it lightly. “Up.”