Make Me Yours (Bellamy Creek #2) - Melanie Harlow Page 0,7

overtime. Only the light over the stove was on, leaving the room shadowy and intimate. The hum of the refrigerator seemed loud.

“How was the party?” I asked quietly.

He closed the door behind us. “It was okay. Mostly I played darts with Beckett while Moretti flirted with a waitress and Griffin kept telling people to stop buying him shots.”

“I hope he wasn’t driving himself home.” I followed Cole to the front of the house, where he took off his coat and hung it in the hall closet.

“Nah. Beckett was driving him.” He shut the closet door and turned to face me. “Thanks again for having Mariah over tonight.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’m really grateful for the time you spend with her.” He glanced up the stairs. “She needs it, I think. Especially as she’s getting older. I’ll just say it right now—I’m dreading puberty.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll always be there for her. No matter where you live.”

“Thanks,” he said, his voice deep and soft. He moved a little closer to me in the dark. “I appreciate you, Cheyenne. I hope you know that.”

My lips fell open.

“And listen,” he went on. “About earlier, in my room.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” whispered Mariah from the top of the stairs, breaking the spell.

Cole cleared his throat and stepped back.

With my heart pounding like ocean waves in my chest, I went up the steps, gripping the banister for balance. What had he been about to say?

At the top of the stairs, I followed Mariah to her room and watched her slip beneath a yellow comforter covered with daisies. Then I went and sat on the edge of the bed. Her bedside lamp was on, and I noticed the photo of Trisha next to her clock on the nightstand. It was a close-up of her smiling face, and she absolutely radiated happiness, the kind of glow you couldn’t get from mashed bananas.

Mariah saw me looking at it. “That’s my mom,” she said.

I smiled at the little girl. “I know.”

“Were you friends with her?”

I tilted my head this way and that. “Not really. She was three years ahead of me in school and had her own group of friends. But she was around a lot, because she hung out with your dad and Griffin. And she was always nice to me.”

“Do you think I look like her?” she asked, glancing at the photo.

“Yes. I do. And that’s a good thing because she was very beautiful. Even though looks are not the most important thing about a girl,” I added quickly, trying to navigate this rocky terrain on the fly. Every girl wanted to feel beautiful, right? So how did you assure her she was without making it seem too important? “Kindness is more important. And your mom had lots of that.”

“I never got to meet her.”

My heart ached. “Well, if you ever want to talk about her, I’m here. I miss my dad a lot, and sometimes it helps me to talk about him.”

“Thanks.” She tucked a stuffed dog under her arm. It was raggedy, the fur all matted.

I reached over to switch off the lamp, then brushed a hand over her forehead. “Sweet dreams, kiddo.”

“Sweet dreams,” she echoed.

I stood up and turned around, surprised to see Cole’s tall, broad silhouette in the doorway. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were there,” I whispered.

“Just for a minute,” he said quietly, slipping past me. “Wait for me downstairs. I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said. “I live right next door.”

“I want to.” He touched my forearm. “Wait for me, okay?”

“Okay.” My pulse raced a little as I went down the stairs, even though I knew his insistence on walking me home was probably more about his innate police officer protective streak than any romantic feelings for me.

Even so, I went down the stairs and ducked into the first-floor lavatory. I checked my hair and teeth in the mirror, redid my ponytail, and frowned at my complexion, which did not seem any more glowy than it had yesterday. What a waste of three perfectly good bananas, I thought. I could have made banana bread in the morning.

When I came out of the bathroom, Cole was descending the stairs, which creaked beneath his feet.

“Ready?” He pulled the front door open.

“Yes.”

We descended the porch steps and walked side by side down the front path, and I made sure to stroll a little slower than necessary, wishing I lived several houses down and not right next door. Our breath made puffy clouds in the cold