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A nervousness flickers in her eyes and she hesitantly responds. “What?”
“You need to make things right with Dani. She misses her best friend, and I’m sure Mia misses you, too,” I tell her. “You know, Dani is going through a hard time as well. Her best friend went through something traumatic and she wasn’t able to be there for you the way she needed to be.”
“I know,” she sighs. “It’s just hard seeing her with Mia, knowing I won’t get to have that. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot actually, and I hate that she’s disappointed in me.”
“She’s not disappointed in you. She’s disappointed that she doesn’t get to be with you,” I say reaching across the center console and taking her hand in mine. She intertwines our fingers before running her thumb across the coarse skin of my hand. “But as for Mia, think of her as your adoptive daughter. That kid needs her crazy aunt just as much as you need her innocence. You balance each other out. Don’t shut her out just because it’s hard.”
“I won’t. I promise,” she says, and I glance over at her to see nothing but a fierce determination in her eyes. “I’m feeling much better, and while it’s always going to be hard, I think I’m ready to be my old self again.”
“Babe, no matter what, you will never be your old self again,” I tell her, not sugarcoating it. “Neither of us will, but I’m glad you’re trying to find a new normal where you can move forward and have happiness in your life.”
She gives me a tight smile as we pull up to our gate and I hang my arm out the window before thumbing in the code. Soon enough, we’re at the top of our driveway and I’m helping Sophie out of the cab.
We walk to the front door, hand in hand, and the sudden need to carry her bridal style over the threshold takes over me. After all, I just got my wife back in our home, which to me is definitely cause to celebrate.
I scoop her up into my arms and she lets out a surprised squeal, but it’s quickly muffled by my lips crashing down on hers. “I’m so fucking happy you’re home,” I murmur against her lips. “You’ve got no idea.”
Her hand comes up, and she runs her nails across my jaw, feeling the coarse hairs of my stubble beneath her fingers. “Me too,” she whispers with her heart in her eyes.
I adjust her so I’m taking her weight in one hand as I reach for the door handle, but what I find has me frozen on the spot.
“What is it?” Sophie asks, alarmed.
“Shhh,” I whisper as I gently set her on her feet. I push her behind me as I take in the cracked door. “Stay here,” I warn her as I pull my phone from my pocket and hand it back to her. “Call the police.”
“What?” she practically shrieks as she tries to keep quiet. “Why?”
“There’s someone here,” I tell her.
Fear takes over her face, and I know without a doubt she’s remembering the last time someone intruded into our home. I give her a gentle kiss on the forehead, feeling the way her hands violently shake. I remind her to make the call before I silently push the door open and creep into the house. It’s killing me to separate from her, but there’s no way in hell I’m about to bring her in here.
I’m halfway down the hallway when I notice someone behind me, and I whip around, ready to end this motherfucker when I find Sophie desperately trying to catch up to me, her eyes wide with fear. “What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper yell.
“I just . . . I couldn’t . . . I’m fucking scared, okay? You can’t leave me out there alone,” she pleads.
“What, and you think being in here is better for you?” I ask with a groan.
“No, being with you is what’s best for me,” she says with a sharp bite in her tone, suggesting that this is non-negotiable.
“Fine,” I grunt, knowing a losing battle when I see one. Besides, we don’t have the luxury of fighting it out right now. “But you need to stay right behind me, where I can keep you safe.”
She nods and practically glues herself to my back before clenching her hand into the fabric of my shirt. It makes it harder to sneak into the house, but at the same time, I can’t say that I’m not grateful she feels safer with me. At least this way I’m not wondering if she’s okay.
We creep past the kitchen when Sophie points toward the sink, and I look over to notice a few dishes have been left unwashed. My brows furrow in confusion. I certainly didn’t leave them there the night of the game. What kind of weirdo breaks into a home and decides to cook up a fucking feast?
