“You got a helluva grip. And I’m not fooled by that smile, baby. I’ve seen you force it a thousand times, and I don’t think my read on that has changed much over the years.”
She exhaled at the fact that he apparently could still pick up on her mood just by glancing at her, looking up into the reflective lenses of his shades he’d just slipped on and wishing she could see his rich, dark depths instead of her own reflection.
“More like I’m frustrated,” she conceded, slipping her hands around his waist comfortably.
“More like you’re pissed,” he suggested.
“Ugh, she had the nerve to tell me not to get attached.” She ripped away from him, gesturing, now that he’d put into words what she was really thinking. “Doesn’t she know that’s precisely what these kids need? Someone to convince them that they matter and just give a damn?”
He nodded once, as if accepting that word salad as an answer.
“She’s basically got him painted in an orange jumpsuit already. She harps at me about making the best decisions for him, then forces me to reschedule his medical appointments to fit her calendar and implies that I set an unfavorable example by being single. I just don’t get it.”
Travis pulled her back in, dusted a kiss on her head. Held her. She took deep, steadying breaths. She wished she could enjoy the affection as much as she’d hoped to when he’d said he was coming over, that he would get back in the saddle, and that he was “staying.” But what did staying mean? Not going with the Dallas location? Or more literally, remaining grounded, with her?
“Anything I can do?”
“Wave a magic wand?” she quipped but scoured her face. “She’s worried that as a single parent, I don’t have the time to take care of his medical needs, and that the accident makes me unfit. I swear it’s like one step forward, two steps back, but you never actually get that foot forward to begin with…” She’d dreaded all week making this decision, but it was the only one she could think to make. Brandon needed someone who was willing to sacrifice for him, and, on a head shake, she resigned herself. “I’m sorry, Trav, that this is all so messy. And as much as I want to run headlong into the future with you and chase our old dreams, the fact is, I’m in a different place now…and I made a promise to Brandon, whether he sees it or not. I can’t put myself in a position where he might get taken away. If Dr. Lopez insists on buying the spread in Dallas…” She bit her lip. “I’m afraid I—I can’t take the offer.”
His jaw, still tight, nearly snarled now, then he wedged each palm beneath his biceps again so that they bulged as edges of his tattoo peaked around his arm, lending this now-careful, distinguished man an edge of roughness he’d never had before. Had she disappointed him? The frown said yes. Did the idea of a foster child’s importance superseding him bother him?
No. That tick to his jaw wasn’t anger at being rejected. It was…protectiveness? Something softened on his face as his thoughts played out. “I’m hoping it don’t come to that…”
She shivered, despite the heat beating down on her bare shoulders.
“Do you wanna adopt him?”
“I’ve thought a lot about it.” She scooped up the bin again, but Travis took it, insisting on carrying it. “But honestly, I can’t tell from Brandon if he’d rather stay or leave. He doesn’t talk to me very often about what’s on his mind. Just last week, he accused me of fostering for the check. He doesn’t even know I put everything they pay me into college savings for him. I didn’t want him to think I’m trying to coerce him into liking me. Just figured when he turns eighteen, the money can roll over to him, even if he ages out of the system in someone else’s house,” and that last part caused her voice to tremor with frustration.
She studied his expression. Watched his chest lift up and down with measured breaths, the mere proximity to him tying her up in knots. He was so handsome, still. How had he remained unmarried all this time?
He maneuvered a couple steps around her so that she could see he chewed his cheek. His thinking-cap look. God, she loved the little gesture. The way it made his confident expression seem a touch innocent still. Arms folded and stance wide, she trailed a fingertip over the creases of stress on his face.
He caught her touch on impulse. His warm, long surgeon fingers held her roughened ones captive in his touch. Electrifying. Like energy on a grid, just as sensual a feeling as when he’d sifted his fingers up her thighs in his truck bed. He slipped off his shades again and propped them on his neck hole. A gentle smile warmed the golden striations in his irises and softened the creases, and he pressed his cheek into her palm, turning his lips into it, dusting a kiss, so fleeting, on her palm.
A tender gesture returned to her.
“Why’d you decide to be a foster mom?” he asked, intrigue thick in his voice.
She shrugged, but the question cooled her racing heart a degree. Open up to him. She didn’t want to talk about this.
“Ah, the shrug. Brandon rubbing off on you, too?” he teased.
A laugh worked its way up her throat and she shook her head, rolling her eyes. No. Absolutely not could she mention all the reasons why she’d chosen this path. But she owed him something. She owed him assurance that she, too, was done running. She swallowed, opting for a more diluted version of the truth.
“It’s not the pitter-patter of baby feet and puppy paws we always envisioned—I always envisioned, but—” His fingers tightened imperceptibly on hers, and their eyes locked. His brow furrowed with sudden intensity, and she couldn’t look away. He remembers that dream. He remembered lying tangled in sweaty, sated limbs with her, building the future with her as they gazed at the wide night sky blanketing them overhead. I’m gonna love you forever… “But I still wanted to be a mother. And I guess I realized this would be the only way I could do it.”
“The only way?”
She shook her head. Couldn’t look at him. He tipped her face back up to his on the pad of his finger, the look burning into her cheeks.
“Sky? I opened up to you. And I’m going to try to do a better job of that from now on. But you’re holding back. And I want you to trust me enough to tell me if there’s anything I oughta know. It’s the only way this is gonna work. It can’t be one-sided.”
Her stomach twisted with unease. She thought on that manila envelope in her desk drawer.
“Roadside bomb…no survivors…” Screaming…
Could she open it? After so long? She’d never shared it with anyone, but it was getting harder and harder to hide it from Trav. With his resurrection had come a nagging need to dump it out and sort through the wreckage of the past. He was right. This flow of trust needed to go both ways. She bit her lip, and his eyes darted down to her mouth, boring into it.