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No. She’s upset. You’ll do what she needs, that’s all.
It hurt his heart to see her so distressed, and he petted her hair, maybe to comfort himself as much as her. And it hit him in that instant that he really would do anything for her. Anything.
With her still on his lap, he leaned over to grab a fistful of tissues from the box on the nightstand.
“Here. Wipe your nose, Ky,” he said, his voice sounding gentler to his ears than he was used to.
She sniffed hard. “Thanks. I’m sorry I cried all over your shirt.”
“It’s okay. I have other shirts.”
“That’s not what I meant, silly.”
He accepted the pile of used tissues she held out to him and tossed them on the bed.
“More?” he asked
“No thanks. I’m better now, I think.”
“Good.”
“But, Brock? Please don’t let me go?”
His heart melted, like butter in the sun, just liquid happiness running through his veins.
“I won’t, Ky. I won’t. I’ve got you, babygirl.”
She sniffed again. “I know you do. You’re the only one who really does, other than Kierra.”
“I’ll always take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”
He felt her nodding against his chest, then he felt the warmth of new tears on his shirt. He rocked her, whispering quietly, not even sure what he was saying to her. She seemed content to be in his arms, and frankly, he didn’t want her to be anyplace else. It felt too good to hold her like this.
Inside, the fierce protectiveness he’d always felt toward her seemed to explode, taking over every other thought in his head. He would damn well do anything he needed to in order to take care of her, to keep her safe, to keep her happy. He made a promise to himself that he’d never be the one to bring her pain. And if that dickhead Richard ever showed up, they were going to have some damn words. Because Kyra was precious to him, in a way maybe no one had ever been before.
It was too late to deny it. There was no escaping that fact. And he was done trying to.
