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I still feel vulnerable, exposed, and I need to get away from his watchful gaze. I need to reset, breathe for a minute, and put on my armor.
For the second time tonight, I’m flying out of the living room like it’s on fire. Mason doesn’t stir as I put him down in his crib and switch on the baby monitor. Gripping the rails of the crib, I watch him sleep in the dim light cast by the dinosaur night light.
He’s so small, so innocent. He doesn’t deserve to be affected by my poor choices—or Ron’s. I wish I could protect him from all the evils of the world. From the bullies. From the people that will look down on him because his dad thinks he’s too good to be in his life.
I wish I could protect him from everything, but I can’t.
Hell, I can’t even protect myself.
This time I bow my head and let the tears fall.
I cry for him. For myself. For the future we deserve but will never have. I let all of it crash over me like a tidal wave crashing onto the beach. I give myself over to the feelings of loss and despair and total helplessness.
I’m so fucking lost that I don’t notice Foster beside me until he places a light hand on my shoulder. Just what I need; him to think I’m a basket case on top of everything else. Or he’ll just feel sorry for me, and I don’t need his pity.
Shaking his hand from my shoulder, I straighten up and rub my eyes with the sleeves of my hoodie. And then I look away.
“Avery.” His voice is soft as he grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him.
I’m fully prepared to feel judged, shamed. But I don’t see any pity in his eyes, only kindness, and it’s another hit to the feels. This man has no reason to be nice to me.
He’s technically my employer, and he’s looking at me like he wants to hold me together.
“Avery.” He repeats himself, but this time when he says my name, it’s thick with emotion. “You’re not alone. I’m here for you.”
Right now.
He won’t be here tomorrow, or next year. In fact, next year he’ll go back to being my brother’s teammate, and I’ll be long forgotten.
I don’t know when the tears started streaming down my cheeks for the third time tonight, but I feel them now, burning their way down my skin. Each one, another symbol of how I’ve failed.
“Lean on me, Avery.” His hands rub across my shoulders, and he pulls me against his chest. “Let me be there for you.”
His words wash over me, the British accent soothing me, making me sink into his chest. His arms tighten around me. I let him hold me until my emotions subside, and I feel more like my normal self. Then I let him hold me some more.
I listen to the steady beat of his heart. I wrap myself up in his leathery cologne. I let myself feel like there’s a reality that exists where I get to keep this man.
And then I push away and give him a wobbly smile.
“Thanks.”
His hands fall from my shoulders, and he gives my arms a comforting squeeze. “You don’t have to thank me for anything, Princess. I’ll always be there when you need me. Even when this is over.”
It sounds so nice, I almost believe it.
He tugs me toward the door, linking his fingers with mine. “Come on. I ordered us dinner.”
“You’re really making yourself at home, huh?”
“Well, I’m starving, and I didn’t think you’d eaten either.”
“I mean, you could have gone home and grabbed something. You didn’t need to stay.”
“I know.” His words are so low that if I weren’t standing right next to him, I’d have missed them.
Foster leads me to the couch, unwinds our fingers, and gestures for me to sit. He takes the other end, and there’s something about the silence that feels heavy, so I turn toward him, drawing my legs underneath me.
“When did you become the baby whisperer?”
