to Ainsley, and I worry my lip. “Today is going to be a bad one for her. For … us. So, we’re going to spend it together.”
He studies me too closely, making me squirm and avoid all eye contact. I don’t want him to ask because I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold it together if he does.
When his hand squeezes my wrist once, I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. “We lost Danny three years ago today. She remembers, Easton.”
He curses softly, pulling me into his arms and wrapping me up against his body. The way he holds me has me sinking into his chest, letting his arms keep me still. “Sorry, Piper.”
As much as I don’t want to, I pull away and swipe at a few loose tears. “You have nothing to be sorry for. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
His lips twitch before pressing into a thin line, and I wonder what he’s thinking. He doesn’t offer anything, just nods once and watches me shift my weight from one foot to another. When he looks at me like this, like I’m something to dissect, I get uncomfortable. What does he see when he pays close attention? Does he see the way my eyes dull when I think of Danny? Or heat when I think of him? Does he see desperation and despair knowing I could lose everything I’ve worked for because I mouthed off to my boss trying to defend Ainsley? I wonder what he thinks about me being a single mom. He knows the basics—that Ainsley isn’t mine, that Danny died, and that the little girl who cried out for her dad in her sleep last night only has me.
I don’t want him to think I’m pathetic, or worse. A charity case to pity. Deep down, I think we understand each other. Everybody has problems, mine just resurface more than I like. And while I wish Danny hadn’t freaked out after we had sex and left, that he hadn’t gotten into that car, I wouldn’t change the time I’ve gotten with Ainsley and all the time we still have in the future.
“You’re leaving?” I ask, noting his long sleeve black Henley and faded jeans. He always dresses causally with clothes that fit his body well. Shirts that wrap around large muscles and jeans that emphasize long legs. The only tattoos visible on him today are on his right hand from the sleeve that covers his entire arm. I’ve always wanted to know what the story is behind the objects that seem so random—an hourglass, words, numbers, roses. None of them make sense, but I bet each one has meaning. Easton told me once that he hates tattooing customers who get tattoos for the hell of it, not connecting with the ink they’re permanently putting on their bodies. It makes me think there’s a story to be told. I’m just not brave enough to ask to hear it.
“Jay and I have some errands to run before we open,” he explains, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“Okay.” I glance at the floor, pulling at the edge of my tee only then realizing how much skin is showing. I’m not sure why nerves suddenly creep into my consciousness considering he’s seen me naked more times than I can count. It shouldn’t matter how much thigh is on display, but it does. “Well, have a good day. We’ll be here if you need something. Not that you probably do. But—” I cringe, not knowing why I’m rambling like an idiot. I take a deep breath and move frizzy hair out of my face. “Okay. Well, see you.”
He stops me as I step toward Ainsley’s door again. “If you need me, just call. I don’t have a busy day anyway.”
My brows furrow. Why would he even tell me that? But instead of asking, I just nod and force a tight-lipped smile that I hope looks at least semi-genuine. He confuses me more than I want to admit, but I think it’s no different for him.
When we part ways, I lay down behind Ainsley and snuggle her close. It’s an hour later when we both wake up again, her brown eyes staring right into mine … and she’s silent.
Completely, heartbreakingly silent.
Chapter Eleven
The next time I find myself on campus, tutoring passes in a blink and classes even quicker. I don’t pay attention, too distracted. My fingernails are nothing but ridged edges from all