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Seth’s hands roamed again, this time just gentle caresses, meant to soothe, not ignite.
Grabbing me, he turned me enough for his lips to seal to mine, long and deep, before he was moving away from me, climbing off the bed, and going into the bathroom, mostly closing the door behind him.
And it took me, oh, point-five seconds to realize how epic of a bad idea this was.
I mean, had we been too loud?
Were the kids up?
A little panic gripping my system, I all but fell off the bed, retrieving my tee, and slipping it and my panties on before Seth was coming back out of the bathroom.
Something flashed across his face then, but I was too busy trying to get my shorts up my legs to really analyze it.
When he spoke, though, his voice was soft.
“Lana, get back over here,” he demanded.
“I, ah, I have to check on Clara,” I insisted, giving him a little nod, and the one excuse he couldn’t object to, as I reached for the doorknob, and made my way back out into the hall.
I tiptoed over to Clara, who was still fast asleep, then into the bathroom, checking on Isaac and Hazel, then closing the adjoining bathroom door to take a minute to myself.
My face was still flushed, and when I yanked down my collar, I had a bit of beard burn over my neck and chest. I imagined I had it on my belly and thighs as well. Somehow, I loved that. A little secret to carry with me about what we’d done.
Because I really didn’t think we could do it again.
I mean, once, we could just move on from.
More than that is where it would get sticky.
And my life was messy enough at the moment.
Decision made, I ignored the crushing sensation in my chest, opened the adjoining door, and made my way back to my room where I sprawled out in bed for the first time in ages.
Then I slept the sleep of an exhausted mom and wholly satisfied woman.
I could start worrying again in the morning…
CHAPTER TWELVE
Seth
“Hey, bud, you can come out if you want,” I said when I was making my way out of my room and caught Isaac peeking out of the door. “Mom still sleeping?” I asked as he came into the hall.
To that, he nodded. “She’s taking up the whole bed,” he told me.
“Seems like Mom hasn’t had a bed to herself in a long time, huh?” I asked as we made our way down the stairs.
“No,” he agreed, looking troubled by this information, like maybe it hadn’t occurred to him before.
“You hungry?” I asked as I made a beeline for the coffee pot.
“Kinda,” he agreed.
“Hey,” I said, looking over at him as he let Rodney out the back door. Like maybe that was his responsibility in the mornings. “I have an idea. Wanna do something special for your mom?” I asked.
He gave me an eager nod. “What?”
“How about we make her breakfast for a change?”
He brightened at that. “I don’t know how to cook,” he admitted.
“Hey, you’re never too old to learn,” I said. “I’m not a great cook, either, but breakfast is pretty easy. What does your mom like? What, bud?” I asked when his gaze moved away.
“She sometimes eats Hazel’s leftovers. Not so much anymore,” he was quick to add.
“Seems like mom has done a lot and deserves to be spoiled a little, right?” I asked, getting another nod out of him. “Think she likes pancakes or French toast better?”
“French toast,” he said definitively.
“And what about eggs?”
“She likes eggs.”
“Scrambled, over-easy, or omelets?” I asked.
“She always breaks the yolks,” Isaac told me.
“Yeah? Me too. Scrambled it is then. Why don’t you pull over a chair, so you can be a little higher?” I asked as I gathered some supplies.
It wasn’t long until we heard another set of feet making their way downstairs.
Then there was Hazel, her hair a fucking wreck, her cheek still creased from the pillow.
“Can I help?”
She didn’t.
Help.
But she played with potato peels and drew pictures in cinnamon she spilled all over the counter.
Isaac was hyper-focused. He clearly wanted to make something special for his mom, and he was doing his absolute best.
I had a baking sheet of French toast keeping warm in the oven, home fries sizzling in a pan, and eggs getting whisked by Isaac when I heard Clara start to fuss upstairs, likely having already overslept and woke up wet and hungry.
Lana must have been freaking out about her missing kids as she came rushing down the stairs, Clara on her hip. In her panic, it took until she was almost in the doorway to freeze and take everything in.
“Oh,” she said, shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. “So what is going on here?” she asked, gaze moving around as Clara tugged at the neckline of her mom’s tee, exposing a little bit of beard burn on her chest that I was probably a little too glad to see there.
