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To Gabe’s credit, he didn’t press, but rose with her. He stepped closer, stirring the scents of charcoal and aftershave. “I’ll take him.”
“We’re fine.” Brooke nodded toward the back door. “Lead the way.”
She followed him through the kitchen and a tidy, masculine living room down a hallway to a child’s bedroom. Gabe flipped on lights as they went.
“Watch your step,” he said quietly as he moved across to turn back the bed. A jumble of toys littered the floor. “No matter how many times we pick them up, he gets them out again.”
Brooke gently lowered A.J. to the sheets. She was amazed to find the room was clean at all. How did Gabe have the time to work, care for a toddler and keep a house semi-clean? He must be exhausted. A twinge of guilt pinched her. He needed help. He’d asked for it. No one, including her, had stepped up to the plate.
“I’ll get his shoes,” she whispered and slipped off the pair of brown sandals while Gabe efficiently wrestled the child into pajamas. When A.J. stirred and mumbled, Gabe paused, waited for him to settle, then pulled the sheet up to the small chest. Squiggly curls stuck to the sides of A.J.’s head where he’d sweated against Brooke. Gabe smoothed them as he kissed his son’s forehead.
Brooke observed the sweet, unself-conscious action of a father who loved his child and wasn’t afraid to show affection. She doubted if Gabe Wesson was afraid of anything.
“You’re a great dad,” she whispered.
They were standing side by side, gazing down at the sleeping child. Gabe shifted, swiveling slowly toward her.
“Thanks.” Coffee-brown eyes caught hers and held. Maybe it was the intimacy of the situation, standing next to the sleeping baby. Maybe it was the relaxed and comfortable mood of a pleasant evening shared. But some in-discernible feeling passed between them, an emotion ripe with possibility.
The thought leaped into Brooke’s head that she’d like to walk into Gabe’s arms and lean her cheek against his chest, to be secure in those strong, muscled arms.
She took a step back, startled by the intensity.
“I should go,” she said.
The feeling dissipated like the ghostly gray mists of dawn, leaving Brooke to wonder if she’d imagined it.
As she crossed the lawn toward her darkened house, Gabe stood on the porch, waiting until she was inside. When she flipped the light on and waved from the back porch, he lifted a hand and disappeared.
Brooke glanced around the quiet, empty and almost-clean den. When she’d run out of this house hours ago, she’d been afraid. Now, she felt perfectly safe, and the reason was clear. Gabe Wesson was next door, a man she instinctively trusted, a man whose presence made her feel secure. Though she’d only known him a few days, Brooke knew without a doubt that if she needed Gabe, he would come.
With the extra house key still missing, she slid a chair under each doorknob, though she was no longer nervous about being alone in her family home. The locksmith would surely come tomorrow. She’d be fine tonight.
As she headed for the shower, she thought about that sweet moment in A.J.’s room. She’d never put a child to bed before. She’d never rocked a toddler until he fell asleep. She’d never stood beside a man and watched him kiss his son good-night.
Oh, the simple, beautiful joys.
Did Gabe have any idea of how special that time had been to her? Of how she’d been touched and challenged?
More important, what was she going to do about any of it?
Gabe moved quietly down the hall to take a final peak into A.J.’s room before turning in. He paused in the doorway, his chest filled with overpowering, helpless love. Sometimes he lay awake at night worrying that something would steal this gift from him. Nothing in his life had ever had the ability to make him afraid the way A.J. did. He’d spent a lot of time with God, praying through the fear and anxiety of being a single parent, but it always returned, usually in his sleep or in that twilight time between sleep and consciousness. A fear would grip his heart and squeeze the breath from him.
He understood Brooke’s fear, though she’d told him nothing about the reasons. He understood because he was afraid, too. Since the tragedy that had claimed Tara and nearly stolen A.J., the anxiety returned again and again, but with the Lord’s help he’d learned to simply keep moving forward. What choice did he have? He had a son. He had a business. He had dozens of employees and a mother depending on him.
