More Than Protect You (More Than Words #6.5) - Shayla Black Page 0,34

free, we’d love to—”

“Can I just say I’m sorry?” Amanda interrupts him.

He frowns. “For?”

“Not thinking about the harm I was inflicting on your family. Your father was married, and I knew it. I was too stupid to realize that, even if I thought my heart beat and bled for him, I wasn’t the only person who mattered. I was so attuned to my own feelings that I forgot about everyone else. I can’t tell you how much I regret that and how horrible I feel for tearing your family—”

“Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. We weren’t really a family, and you didn’t do any damage that my mom and dad hadn’t already done to themselves.” He frowns. “You know you’re not the first woman Dad cheated with, right?”

She looks down. “I know. But at the time I wanted so badly for him to leave Linda.”

“She would have deserved it because she was no saint, either. But he was never going to divorce her. He couldn’t afford to. If anyone’s sorry, it’s me. I knew what kind of man he was when you went to work for him. I knew his history with assistants. I could have warned you and I didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t have listened anyway. Some things you just have to find out for yourself.” She peers at him uncertainly. “Would you think it’s weird if I wanted to hug you?”

“Not at all.” Griff gives her a brotherly embrace, and it’s obvious she’s relieved both to have the apology off her chest and that he’s accepted it. “I always considered the Lunds family. I didn’t know we’d ever be related by blood, but I grew up thinking of you like a sister, so I’m glad to welcome you into the fold. We’d love it if you stayed on the island.”

“I’m actually thinking about it.”

“You want to come to dinner tonight? I know Noah and Harlow wouldn’t mind two more. Well, three.” He grins as he brushes Oliver’s rosy cheek with a big finger.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Griff pins her with a critical stare. “When was the last time you talked to Harlow?”

I jump in. I don’t know if the reason for Mandy’s refusal is the same as mine, but… “Whoever’s out to get her is unhinged. I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

She latches on to my excuse with a nod. “Exactly. I wouldn’t feel right if I hung out and put her in jeopardy.”

Griff frowns like he understands but doesn’t like it. “For you, she’d risk it. Do you need anything else?”

“Nothing, but thanks,” she assures. “Tell Britta we said goodbye.”

“Will do.”

“Good luck tonight,” Mandy calls as we leave.

Then we’re gone. The ride back to the house is silent. She’s so pensive, I can almost hear her thinking. I want to ask questions, help her sort through her thoughts if she needs it, and blurt all the reasons I hope she gives us a try. But I don’t. Outside noise when I’m trying to think bugs the hell out of me, and I’m guessing she won’t appreciate me “mansplaining,” as Ellie would have put it.

Back at Masey’s vacation rental, I hide the distinctive Mustang in the adjacent garage, then make a quick trip through the interior of the house. Nothing has been disrupted, so I lead Amanda and Oliver in. We settle the groceries, plan a quick dinner, then she disappears to give Oliver a bath.

As I chop some veggies for a salad and heat the oven for chicken, I can’t help but wonder what the night will bring.

When she emerges with a freshly bathed boy, she leaves him to play on a blanket with his toys, and we finish cooking. While she’s picking at her plate, she’s giving Oliver tiny bites of chicken and some jarred food we picked up at the store.

Finally, as the sun begins to go down, she disappears into the master bedroom with her baby. Then I hear singing. Her voice is high, light, and melodic. And I hear her love for Oliver as she croons the lullaby.

I can’t help it. I meander down the hall and prop myself against the portal to watch. She’s cradling her son against her chest, and he’s looking up at her with big eyes. The naked love on her face as she looks down at him nearly chokes me. In that moment, I realize I’d consider myself incredibly blessed to have even a fraction of the devotion she’s showing her son. And I find