Cayla was almostat the end of her rope. Her client meeting had been a disaster. Her ex-husband had been on a veritable identity theft rampage. And Maddie seemed intent on being her most obstinate, complaining about what was for dinner, about doing homework, about not having more play time with Banana Bread. She’d ended up in tears over being told to get in the bath. Cayla knew her daughter was mostly likely responding to the fact that she herself was keyed up and worried. And that Holt hadn’t come home yet.
Cayla had no idea where he was or what he was doing. A man like him probably wouldn’t respond well to the ultimatum she’d issued. Maybe she shouldn’t have laid into him—into all of them—the way she had. But how foolish could the lot of them be? Very, apparently. After hearing the full scope of what Arthur had managed to do to Holt and his friends, she’d wanted to vomit. This was the sneak attack they hadn’t seen coming, and she didn’t know whether it could be fixed. There were measures to fight. But it could take years, and who knew if their fledgling business would survive in the meantime? That was on her. They’d all been targeted because of her.
She tugged a pajama top over Maddie’s head, pausing to wipe at those tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry we’re both having bad days, Munchkin. Let’s go on to bed. Tomorrow will be better.” Cayla suspected it wouldn’t, but she’d at least provide some hope for her daughter.
Maddie sniffed. “Where’s Daddy?”
Cayla’s heart squeezed. Of course she’d be thinking of Holt as her father. He’d been more of one these past weeks than her own ever had. She didn’t have the heart to correct Maddie.
The truth was, she had no idea where Holt was. He hadn’t texted. She hadn’t called to track him down. She wasn’t even sure if he’d answer if she did. “He got tied up at the bakery, baby. You’ll see him tomorrow.”
God, Cayla hoped he didn’t make a liar out of her because she’d wounded his pride. She didn’t think he was that kind of man, but she hadn’t imagined he’d keep something this big from her, either.
That lower lip quivered. “Can I have two chapters tonight?”
It felt like the least she could do. “Yeah. I think we can do that.” She crawled into bed beside her daughter.
BB leaped up, turning three circles before flopping onto the end of the bed. Cayla didn’t have the heart to send the dog to her crate. She hadn’t had an accident in the house, so tonight was as good a test of her house training as any. The three of them settled in to read. Maddie was calmer at the end, her little eyes drooping. Cayla set the book aside and tucked her in, lingering over the bubblegum scent of her shampoo.
Anything. She’d do anything to protect her most precious girl.
“Good night, Munchkin.”
“Night, Mommy.”
Slipping quietly from the room, she pulled the door almost closed and let out a slow, shuddering breath. She really, really wanted a good cry, but that wasn’t an option. Holding her shit together was imperative. Because she always had to hold her shit together. That was the gig.
A sound drew her to the kitchen. On the way, she noted the toys had been cleared. As BB hadn’t been taught that trick, Holt must be back. She found him at the sink, finishing the last of the dishes from the dinner he hadn’t been here to eat.
He set the pan in the dish drainer and wiped his hands. “Hey.”
Relief that he’d come home at all warred with frustration and fear and uncertainty about where they stood. “Hi.”
He held out a hand. “Will you come with me?”
Was he kidding right now? “I’m really not in the mood.”
“Not for that. I have something I want to show you.”
She was beyond exhausted, but she’d demanded a conversation. If that meant going with him, so be it. She didn’t take the hand he’d offered. If that hurt or offended him, he didn’t show it. He moved past her and opened the door to the backyard. Well out of the hearing of little ears. That didn’t bode well. Her stomach cramped, but she followed him out.
“Shouldn’t we turn on a light?”
Holt just tapped the screen of his phone. Twinkle lights blinked on. Hundreds of them, wrapped around the big oak tree. From one of the massive branches hung a porch swing that hadn’t been there before. Beside it, on a little table she didn’t recognize, stood a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers.
When had he done all this?
He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his big shoulders a little hunched, but he met her gaze head-on. “I owe you an apology. I should have told you yesterday as soon as we found out what had happened. I get that you’re upset, but I need you to understand that I didn’t keep it from you out of disrespect or an effort to control you. I just wanted to be able to tell you it was being taken care of, so you’d know there was a plan in place and you didn’t have to take all that on yourself. Because you will. You did. The moment you found out, you started blaming yourself.”
She had. Because none of them would be in this position if not for her. But he didn’t seem to be finished.
“I can see where I went wrong in how I approached that. I never wanted you to feel like I thought you weren’t strong. I know exactly how strong you are with everything you’ve done. I know because I did the same for Hadley when we were growing up. I know what it is to have to carry that burden alone and never get a break. To always have to hold everything together.”
Was the man a mind reader? It was as if he was responding to everything she’d been thinking but hadn’t said tonight. That he saw it, recognized it, had her throat going tight with tears she didn’t have the energy to hold back.
“So I put up this swing to remind you that you get to take a break once in a while. Because you’re not alone anymore. You have me. And I know things are tough right now, but we’re going to find a way out the other side. Because this might be our first fight, but I sure as hell hope it’s not our last.” He paused, frowned. “That came out wrong.”
She laughed a little, wiping at her own cheeks. “I know what you meant.” Heaving a heavy sigh, she let go of a little of the fear. “I don’t want this to be over either.”
He swallowed and nodded, turning to the wine. With his usual efficiency, he pulled the cork and poured a glass. “Sit. We can still hash all this out. But right now, I’m gonna let you have some much needed quiet time to reset.”
When he turned to go back inside, she laid a tentative hand on his arm. “You could sit with me.”
His strong, callused fingers settled over hers, reforging a connection that had been fractured. “I’d like that.”
Gripping her glass, Cayla curled her hand around the chain and sat. Holt eased down beside her, stretching an arm along the back of the swing. She leaned into him, relaxing against his familiar warmth, feeling his arm come around her, so grateful it wasn’t the last time.
“I hated today,” she murmured.
“So did I.”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. At all of you. I just… I got sucker-punched by the whole thing, and after what I lived through before, I have a hair-trigger response to secrets. Particularly financial secrets.”
“I get that. I didn’t think of it in the moment, but I get it. I won’t do it again.”