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“Yeah, Mommy,” he whispered, lounging in his bed and looking sleepy for a boy who hadn’t napped in years. I attributed it to the excitement of the last two days, and that Ryker had been up with them and playing outside for hours before I’d woken up. I didn’t remember the last time I’d slept that long or that hard. “Ryker said he was going to take a shower.”
“Okay, baby,” I said back, swinging his door closed in case he fell asleep. I didn’t want either of them to get off-schedule, but I also didn’t want Axel going back to school the next day looking like a zombie.
I debated going down the stairs. I debated grabbing both the kids and trying to get out while Ryker was distracted, but when I opened the door to the would-be nursery and snuck a peek at the front gate through the window, it was closed. A guard sat in the booth, as expected, and I sighed in frustration.
There would be no escaping so long as someone was there, at the very least, and that was assuming I could get the gate open, anyway. I drew in a ragged breath as I steadied myself. We just needed to wait for the right moment.
Instead of going downstairs, I went to the master bedroom and hoped to sneak into the closet for a sweater. I’d changed clothes when we came in for lunch right after Ines shocked me into a stupor, but the warehouse seemed to always have just the slightest chill.
“I can turn the heat on if you’re cold,” Ryker grunted when I tried to sneak through, scaring me so bad I jumped. A man as big as he was shouldn’t have been capable of hiding, shouldn’t have been so silent when he moved, but it was like he was a predator, a panther that hid in the shadows.
He stripped his T-shirt over his head when I turned to look at him, again seeming far too comfortable with his own nudity. I couldn’t blame him, really. What was the point of a body like that if you didn’t show it off?
“That’s alright,” I whispered. “I like sweaters and blankets.”
“I know. There are blankets in the storage built into the couch. The cushions lift and there’s a panel underneath where they tucked your throws.”
I nodded, murmuring a soft “thank you.”
He raised a brow at me as his hands went to his sweatpants. “Did you need something else, Sunshine?”
I shrugged, scuffing my feet nervously. I didn’t know why this conversation seemed so hard to start, why it felt like it was an unreasonable request, but it wasn’t. No matter what he claimed in his insanely possessive, pigheaded brain, they were my kids. Not his.
“I need you to make sure that what happened this morning never happens again. You can’t leave with them. You can’t take them places without me. I
f anything happened to them—”
“I already told you I was sorry for worrying you, Tesoro. I won’t take them off the property without your permission, but you need to work on loosening the reins. I will be alone with them, eventually. I will drive Axe to school and bring Ines to your father if I have to work. There’s no reason for you to do it all alone anymore.”
“I’m not anywhere near ready for that,” I protested.
“I know, but you need to work on getting there. I’ll be patient for a bit, but I waited a long time to have the three of you here with me. I won’t wait much longer to settle into our new routine.”
He spun, heading for the bathroom like he seemed so prone to doing once he’d said his piece and knew I wouldn’t like it. “Why an angel?” I asked, staring at the tattoo on his back. It suddenly seemed so important, like it held bits of the puzzle, and I needed it to figure out what drove the man who drove me up a wall.
He was insane. He was broken. He was funny. He was great with my kids.
But I had no idea who he really was, not when it came down to it. I had a feeling I only saw a carefully controlled piece of him, like the rest of the puzzle was even more horrific than what he showed me.
“You aren’t the only one who has lost someone, Calla,” he murmured, turning back to me briefly, and that agony filled his eyes again. So strong, so broken that I took a step toward him before I realized what I was doing.
“Who was she?” I asked, and I hated the way my heart clenched painfully. I didn’t want to be jealous. Jealousy meant I cared, that somewhere underneath my hatred for the man, there was compassion.
He smiled at me sadly. “They were the only other people who ever mattered to me as much as you and those kids, which is why I never want you to worry that I would hurt them. I’d never let anything touch them.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered in response, because even if I was jealous of whoever they’d been, the pain etched on his face was very real. I instantly wanted to hug him, to chase away the shadows that clung to him and bring back the man who’d tossed my son in the air and made him laugh.
I wanted to see him smile and hear that rough laugh.
And then I instantly wanted to kick myself for it.
“Me too, my Sunshine, but it also taught me to appreciate what I have now. To protect it. This house is the safest you can ever be. You’ll understand everything soon enough,” he murmured, stepping toward the bathroom. He paused at the last minute, turning back to gaze at me. Any hint of jealousy that I felt evaporated in response to the way he looked at me. Like he could devour me if I gave him the slightest hint of encouragement. “You should make yourself at home. Put your things where you want them. Your moisturizer and lotion on the nightstand. I know you’re all unpacked, but movers don’t put things where you would want them. This is your home now. Get used to it.”
I grimaced at his words, the harshness of them chasing away my moment of sympathy over our shared losses.
Which was the point, I suspected. Ryker, like me, hated pity and would do anything to avoid it. Even piss me off, evidently.
But something else struck me so harshly that I could practically feel the tendrils of shock creeping over my skin.
