Breathe (Colorado Mountain 4)

He dropped his lips there as he slid a hand along her belly

He kissed her lightly then moved his lips to her ear. “Nervous about tonight?”

The Town Council meeting to discuss the future of the library was that night. So far, she hadn’t displayed much reaction to all that was happening. That didn’t mean he didn’t read her concern but she wasn’t letting on she was panicked or freaked.

Then again, they had thousands of signatures on petitions, Cesar had hundreds of phone calls and even people from Chantelle and Gnaw Bone were getting into the action seeing as if Carnal’s library fell, they’d lose that resource too. This included Nina Maxwell sticking her nose into things and Nina didn’t do things by half measures. This was why they had thousands of signatures on petitions. Nina had them circulating around the entire county.

Hands in the soapy water, Faye turned her head, Chace lifted his and she gave him her eyes.

“Not really,” she said quietly. “Maybe I should be but I’m more worried about the fact that Malachi still hasn’t spoken.”

Reflexively, his hand pressed into her stomach.

He was worried about that too. As was everyone including Malachi’s psychologist.

This didn’t only say worse things about what went down with the kid, it also tied their hands with finding who abused him. They had nothing. Zero. Unless they could get it out of him, that was going nowhere.

But recently, it was more.

He’d seemed to be settling. Silas and Sondra were making efforts at socializing him so he went with them to town for dinner, they took him to the library to see Faye, took him grocery shopping. He didn’t seem comfortable with this. He was watchful, wary, but he did it and, like everything else, seemed to be settling into that too.

Except for not speaking and having unusual reactions to everyday things like the television, phones and radios, he was a normal kid. He liked video games. He liked books. He’d gotten used to TV, phones and radios. He paid attention to those around him, laughed, smiled and often bent his head and scribbled on his notebook to share a quip, what he was thinking, feeling or wanted. Which meant they’d learned the kid had a cute sense of humor, he liked Modern Family and he had a massive sweet tooth.

But what he shared was never deep. It was never personal. He was amongst them and a part of them but he held himself detached. Although he had definitely formed a bond with Silas and Sondra, the only people he didn’t seem detached from were Chace and Faye. It took a while for Chace to get in but when he got in, he was in. The kid didn’t latch himself to either of them but his eyes followed them around a room if they moved, he paid more attention to them when they were speaking and if they left a room, he eventually followed in order to stay close. It wasn’t like he crawled into their laps but if they were with him, he was never far.

But even though they had that connection, he didn’t share with Faye or Chace either.

And in the last week, he seemed the same yet still more distant.

Something was on his mind and even though they all, in their individual ways, tried to find out what it was, he wasn’t sharing.

It was Wednesday, a week and a half after Faye and Chace went to Aspen. Over a month since they found Malachi.

It was time to push.

Chace moved from Faye’s back, grabbed a dish towel, a clean plate in the drainer and started wiping. “I’ll call Karena at CPS and his psychologist. Have a chat with them. See if they agree it’s time to step this shit up.”

Her head twisted to him and her hands arrested in cleaning his plate. “I don’t want him alarmed, Chace.”

“You think I’d do that in a million years, baby?” he asked gently.

He watched her draw in breath before she shook her head.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Chace confirmed. “Never. But he’s gotta get better. He’s gotta start school next year. He’s gotta make friends and the only way he can really feel safe is if we can catch who f**ked him up and deal with them so he knows they’ll never hurt him again.”

She sighed, nodded and went back to her plate.

Seconds later, she whispered to the plate, “I’ll kill them.”

“What?” Chace asked.

She rinsed it, put it in the drainer and went after the cutlery at the bottom of the sink.

“You find them, you keep them away from me. I won’t be responsible for what I do if I get near them,” she threatened in her soft, sweet voice which made Chace smile but he didn’t let his amusement become audible. This was because he thought she was cute but she was also being very serious.

When he could keep the humor out of his tone, he promised her, “They’ll be sorted, Faye.”

“I hope so,” she muttered, wiping down the cutlery.

“They’ll be sorted.”

She nodded to the sink, rinsed the cutlery and put it in the drainer. Then she moved to the stove to get the skillet and it occurred to Chace she felt this depth of emotion for a kid she didn’t help create, she didn’t carry in her womb, she didn’t bring into the world.

Which meant when they eventually got down to making a family, she’d give this and likely more to their brood.

Something she had, always.

Something he never did.

Something he’d always wanted.

Something their kids would take for granted.

He’d f**ked up, not sharing his secrets, not trusting in the strength she’d displayed since he met her, transferring on her in her shyness his mother’s frailty. It might have been an understandable f**k up but it was a f**k up.

But they had it out, she helped him let it go and then she let it go. The next day it was Chace and Faye, no rehashing it, no searching comments, no penetrating looks. She was over it, she’d helped him over it, she was moving on and she took him with her. Except for the fact that they both understood the depth of their feelings for each other, their commitment to their relationship and that bringing them indelibly closer, drama over, onward.

That was going to be his life. Faye at his side. Faye at his back. Dramas, fights, they’d happen, they’d end and they’d move on. And his kids would have that too, all of it, her devotion, her strength, her brand of quiet but fierce protection and her ability to sort through the shit, lay it out and move on.

He put the last plate away feeling his lips tipped up as she scoured the skillet and he grabbed the cutlery to dry it as he watched her rinse the skillet, the water running over her hands.

Naked hands.