Sure, she knew that was true, but not Bernie. He’d never do this to her. But the tightness in Rhett’s voice told her one thing for certain. “You actually think he’s involved?”
Rhett hesitated then sighed heavily. “That’s what I’m going to find out when I leave here and question him.” A pause. “I admit I’m finding it hard to believe that he’d have any part in hurting you, but I don’t doubt the source.”
She didn’t have to see his face clearly to grasp his mood. Today hadn’t been long only for her. She wiggled closer, running her toes against his leg. “I guess every question I’ve got right now, you won’t have an answer to.”
He gathered her closer and kissed her forehead. “Believe me, when I know something worth telling, you’ll know it.”
She nuzzled into his neck, embracing his strength, letting go of her answerless questions, and the nightmare that had woken her. All day the same thought had haunted her. Now even more so. “I’ve been thinking about something.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m going to close the bar until this is all over.”
His sigh tickled her forehead. “As much as I don’t like yielding to this prick’s force, until we understand what’s going on, I agree that’s a wise choice. It’s not safe for you or your employees to be at the bar.” He hesitated, his arms tightening around her. “But let’s figure that out in the morning after we talk with Bernie.”
Her mind raced. “Should I—”
“Kinsley,” Rhett interjected, his voice tired.
She shut her mouth. That was a tone she’d heard growing up with her father. He needed normalcy and quiet, not questions. And her heart fluttered with the knowledge that Rhett had come to her, not a bar for a drink, and not another bed. Her. She pressed a soft kiss to his neck, shutting her eyes and leaning into him.
Silence drifted between them, and right as she began to doze off, he asked, “Are you afraid of becoming a mother?”
It took her a minute to truly believe he’d asked that. Rhett wasn’t deep. He didn’t do emotions. “Deathly afraid,” she admitted, wondering where he was going with this.
“Why?” he asked.
She leaned away and caught the shadowy outline of his cheekbone. “I don’t want to become my mother.”
He snorted. “Impossible. You’re nothing like her, Kinsley. You’re loyal to your bones.”
“I know that I’m nothing like her,” she said. “But I also know that what happened with my mom shaped me. It made me love those who love me harder and deeper. It made me be honest about love, because life can drown you otherwise.”
A heaviness filled the space between them. Normally she’d fill it, but she wanted—no, needed—to hear what was on his mind. She hoped that by her opening up, he’d realize sharing personal thoughts wasn’t so hard after all.
He eventually asked, “If you know that, then what are you afraid of?”
“That I’ll think of my happiness first like she did.”
“You should think of your happiness first,” he said after a moment of consideration. “You deserve to be happy, as much as our baby deserves that too.” He slid his hand over her hip beneath her nightgown. “The difference is, your mother didn’t care who she hurt to be happy. You don’t have that in you.”
She hoped that was true. “Are you afraid of becoming a father?” she asked, pushing on, taking advantage of his openness.
“Today”—his voice tightened—“today was new for me. I have never felt fear like that.” She reached out with her other foot and rubbed her toe against his sock-covered foot as he went on, “But as for being a father, I’m more concerned than afraid.”
Her foot halted its strokes. “Concerned about what?”
“That I’m going to get this all wrong.”
She wasn’t sure what she could say or do to break through this hard wall around him, where he felt incapable when it came to the straight and narrow. She just hoped she could…eventually. “Just be you, and you’ll get this right.”
A pause. “Being me is what’s concerning.”
“You know, one day, Rhett, you’re going to look back and reali
ze that you’re not nearly as scary as you think you are.”
“And how will I realize that?”