Can't Fight It - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,66

shoulder. When he reaches the door, he extends his hand, which I readily take. We walk together down the hall and out the back door. I can’t help but wonder if this will be the last time I’m here. If things go south with Colton and me tonight, I’m sure I won’t be welcomed back inside, let alone back to watch Milo.

That thought is soul-shattering.

Milo babbles in the back seat of the truck, swatting at the toys that hang from the seat handle. There are no other words spoken, just the sounds of a happy baby playing. I soak up every ounce of it, committing every second of his noises to memory. Just in case.

Back home, I grab the diaper bag from the back and get the door unlocked for Colton. Even though he’s carrying his son, he still insists I enter the house first. I set the bag down on the kitchen table as he removes the blanket from the carrier and smiles down at his son. “You about ready to eat, little man?”

Milo smiles and kicks, letting his dad know he’s more than ready.

“I’m going to feed him some peas and carrots for dinner. What time will the Crock-Pot be done?” he asks hesitantly. There’s that feeling we’re both walking on glass, and I hate it. I hate that we’ve come to this.

“Thirty minutes,” I tell him after glancing at the clock.

Colton nods and heads to the cabinet to get jars of baby food.

“Why don’t I go take a shower while you feed him. I’ll come back and get the dinner dished up,” I say, wringing my hands together in front of me. “Unless you’d rather not eat together.”

Once Milo is secured in his high chair, he turns my way. “I want you here,” he states. “I want to be able to see you, to know you’re safe. I want you to help me give my son a bath and help put him to bed tonight. I want to pull you in my arms and snuggle under the blankets, only to fall asleep with you in my arms after I’ve made you come no less than twice. I want to wake up with you, and maybe even make love to you again before Milo wakes up. I want all of that, but I know in order to get it, we have to talk about what is going on.”

He takes a deep breath. “So, go to your place and take your shower. Then come back here and have dinner with me. After we put Milo to bed, we’re going to figure out what is going on so we can move forward. Together.”

God, the confidence in his voice, that conviction that everything is going to be okay almost brings me to my knees. I just pray he’s right. That once he hears what I say, he won’t ask me to leave, that the only way he can protect himself and his son is to ask me to go.

I don’t want that.

Not at all.

But I would do it in a heartbeat if it meant they were safe.

Because I love them.

After my shower, I feel marginally better, but that looming sense of dread still niggles my mind. I slip through my door and into the laundry room, the scent of dinner filling the small space. When I open the kitchen door, I find Milo still in his high chair, orange stains from his dinner on his bib, and Colton standing at the counter. The table is set with two plates and two glasses of water, a basket of rolls sitting in the middle.

“Hey, buddy,” I say softly to Milo, who throws a toy on the floor for me to retrieve.

“That’s his new favorite game. I’ve picked that block up twenty times in the last five minutes, and if I don’t do it quick enough, he lets me have it.”

I smile widely as I bend down and retrieve the wet plastic block. It has raised numbers and shapes on it in bright blue and red colors. When I set it down, he takes the block and tries to shove it in his mouth, only to drop it over the edge of the high chair tray once more. The moment he does, he looks up at me expectantly, and I can’t help but laugh.

“See what I mean?” Colton asks as he joins me at the table, setting the dish with pot roast, potatoes, and carrots in the middle.

We eat in comfortable silence, both taking