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Ben was quiet as well, though I couldn’t tell if he was basking in the joy of Elle’s safe return, brooding about something, or perhaps a bit of both.
When Elle smothered her third yawn of the evening, I said, “You look ready for bed.”
She didn’t protest, which meant she was exhausted. “Will you read me another chapter of Harry Potter?”
“Of course, unless your dad wants to?” I arched a brow at him.
He shook his head. “I don’t want to disturb your routine.” He pushed away from the table and walked around to kneel by Elle’s chair. She slipped into his arms, and he hugged her again. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“Love you too, Daddy,” she said against his chest.
I blinked back tears as I took her hand and led her to the bedroom. She had a quick bath while I pulled back the covers and got out the book.
Elle came into her room and took the brush from the vanity. She held it out to me hesitantly, and I took it. As she sat at the table, I brushed her damp hair.
“Are you going to be my mom, Lindsay?”
I kept brushing, but didn’t look up at her. “I’d love to be your mom, but I don’t know if that could work.”
“Do you like my daddy?”
I nodded at her, finally meeting her gaze in the mirror. “I like him more than any other boy.” Man was the right term, of course, because Ben wasn’t a boy by any stretch of the imagination.
“Does he like you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Are you ready for the book?” I breathed a sigh of relief when she let me distract her.
I tucked her in and read her part of a chapter before her soft snores filled the room. I spent another moment just staring at her as the events of the day threatened to overwhelm me.
We’d gotten lucky that she was home safe and sound. Things could have been much different, and Ben was probably brooding about that right this moment.
I placed the bookmark in the book and put it on her nightstand before getting up. I couldn’t resist brushing a kiss against her temple on the way out of her room. I loved her so much that I couldn’t imagine I could love my own child any more than I did her.
I found him in the living room, staring into the fireplace with a glass of something clear in his hand. I sat down beside him, but didn’t touch. “Are you all right?”
He put aside the glass and fixed me with an intense stare. “I’m pretty far from all right, love.”
The endearment made my heart jump, but I tried not to read too much into it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head as he turned to face me. “I just want to hold you. Is that okay?”
I nodded. “Very okay.” When his arms came around me, mine enfolded him gladly.
He did just hold me for several long, silent moments. I could hear a hitch in his breathing, and wondered what it was like for him, to have to be strong all the time. I rubbed his back and murmured soothing words. I could only imagine how the day had wrecked him, and I was honored that he trusted me enough to show me a little vulnerability.
Or maybe I could have been anyone, and he still would have. I didn’t want to believe that, and I really didn’t, so I pushed the idea aside.
“I need you,” he said against my temple.
“I’m here for you.”
“I want you.”
I nodded, but still wasn’t entirely sure just what he wanted until his hand slipped under the hem of my shirt to trail up my stomach. When he cupped my breast, I nodded and pressed against his palm. “Yes.”
That was all he needed, and the last word I spoke. His hands moved over me with urgent intensity, almost as if he was assuring himself I was there. I hadn’t been the one he could have lost, but he seemed to need to be certain I was there too.
I pushed him back on the sofa and started stripping him. I had the need to heal him, though I didn’t know if sex could do so. I was using every weapon in my arsenal to make sure he felt cherished and cared for.
