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“Wow,” he said, one big hand still scratching Izzy’s head. “That looks awesome.”

“Just wait until you taste it,” I said, somehow feeling like everything that came out of my mouth was innuendo. Probably because I had only one thing on my mind when it came to Kerr Murdoch. And it was no longer murder—​not since the fire. And probably not since before the fire either.

I settled in next to him and Izzy as he lifted his mug for a taste. He sipped it, a groan escaping his mouth, which about set my underwear on fire.

He licked the cream from his lips, and it did nothing to aid my predicament. “That is divine,” he said.

“Thank you. I aim to please.” Oh my goodness, it was innuendo after innuendo with me. I lifted my own mug to take a sip and shut myself up, closing my eyes as I savored the smooth, chocolatey taste, combined with the sweet, cool swirl of the cream and stickiness of the marshmallows. Then a little bite from the chocolate curl. When I opened my eyes, he was giving me that look again. Like he wanted to devour me. And I would be oh so happy to oblige him.

He placed his mug down, allowing his fingers to graze my hand on the way back. “Feeling better after earlier?”

I nodded. “I cannot believe the audacity of that man. You hit the nail on the head. He was the one who left, so anything I did after that was none of his bloody business. And I cannot believe he’s still trying to make me feel small when we aren’t even together anymore.”

He winced. “It does seem to be a habit he’s struggling to break.” The wince was washed away by a smile. “Just say the word if you want me to break it for him. Literally.”

I let a peal of laughter escape my lips. I liked protective Kerr. I also liked angry Kerr and happy Kerr and quiet Kerr and vulnerable Kerr.

I snuggled farther into the sofa, allowing myself to ease against his side. “Thanks for shutting him down. I seem to have a mental block when it comes to standing up to him, and yet I have absolutely no problem doing it with anyone else. Including you,” I added cheekily, taking another sip from my mug.

He laughed out loud at that and I reveled in the deep, throaty sound. Kerr was normally a quiet chuckle kind of guy, and making him outright laugh felt like a precious gift. “I can’t argue with you there,” he said. “And you’re welcome.” He placed his arm around my shoulders, and Izzy skittered off his chest and onto the floor with the movement, stalking off with a haughty glance in my direction. “And, for the record, I would happily stand at your side and back you up in any argument.” He gave me a wry smile. “Even if you were in the wrong.”

I dropped my mouth open in mock shock. “How dare you. I will have you know I am never wrong.”

He chuckled, lifting his mug, and we both sipped, eyeing each other over the rims.

“I’m glad to know I can rely on you to back me up,” I said carefully. “And I’d like you to know that you can rely on me too.”

I felt a shift in the atmosphere, taking in the way he studied me for a couple of seconds before answering. “I appreciate that,” he said eventually.

“I know you find it difficult. Depending on others, I mean. But if you give maybe just a couple of people a chance, they might surprise you,” I said softly. It didn’t even have to be me. I just wanted him to let someone all the way in, like Greg or Katie.

He nodded, looking down into his mug.

I kept quiet for a few seconds, not wanting to push too hard. He had that look on his face, the ponderous one that told me he was going to answer but was processing what he wanted to say first. “You don’t have to be a genius to guess that the reason I’m like this is because my mum left.” He glanced up into my eyes, a stab of pain piercing my heart at the sight of the hurt he was allowing to be displayed there. I was glad he wasn’t trying to hide it, even though it pained me to see it.

“What happened?” I asked gently.

He turned his head to look into the fireplace. “I was only young, but I could tell she was unhappy. With my dad, I mean. I think I mentioned to you that he was emotionally cold. The man didn’t have an empathic bone in his body. He didn’t lift a finger against either of us, but his words were cutting and demeaning, and he was controlling with her.” He paused, taking a breath. “Then, one day, she was just gone. Along with her clothes. I still have no idea where she went or . . . why she didn’t take me with her.” He blinked and it was clear he was trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. I put down my mug, taking his hand tightly in both of mine.

“Anyway,” he said, turning his head and bringing his eyes back onto me, as if coming out of a trance. “Once I was older, around sixteen, I told Dad I wanted to go and find her. But then he told me that she’d died. About a year before. I was devastated. But when I asked him why he hadn’t said anything at the time, he just shrugged. Said it hadn’t really mattered, because she’d been gone anyway.”

A spearing sensation pierced my chest, pulverizing my heart. “Oh, Kerr. That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He smiled grimly. “That was just the sort of man he was. No feeling, no affection. I left home at eighteen to go to vet school and then I never saw him again. Initially because I couldn’t bring myself to visit home for the first eight months. I needed a break from him. And then because he died around the time that I was considering it, toward the end of my first year.”

He fell silent, draining the rest of his drink. I squeezed his hand between mine, and he gave me a grateful smile, placing his empty mug on the coffee table. “That was delicious, thank you.”

The matter-of-fact way he spoke about this still threw me, but I could see the undercurrent of emotion that he either tried to repress or struggled to voice. And now I understood why. Not only had his mum left, but his father had been emotionally cold and downright cruel. Kerr had been starved of love; no wonder he thrived on being self-​sufficient. Though thrived was the wrong word. He was functioning rather than thriving.

“You deserved better, Kerr,” I told him.

He stilled, seeming caught off guard.

“I hope you know that,” I added softly. “None of what happened was your fault, and you deserve all the love in the world.”

He blinked a couple of times, gripping my hand. “I’ve, ah, I’ve never told anyone this before. But all my life I’ve felt like I’m . . . not enough. Not enough for my mum to stay, not enough for my dad to love. Then with the relationships I’ve had since, not enough to keep them with me.” He paused. “So I figure that’s why everyone always leaves. I’m not enough. Aileen even said as much when we split.”

I stiffened, my blood turning to ice as I pictured that scene. “She did?”