Holy bejesus.

I take a deep breath, running the events from moments ago back through my mind. Seeing him watching me. Jesus Christ. Just picturing those hungry eyes is making me hot all over again.

I tip my head back against the door, inhaling air into my dry lungs.

I’ve never come that hard in my life. My body is still scorching, and my jumbled mind is a mess, but one thing is certainly clear . . . That was the best damn orgasm of my life. If he’s that skilled without laying a finger on me, what the hell is he capable of?

Shane’s voice filters in through the door. “Well, hello naked.” His voice beams and I laugh, covering my mouth, so they don’t hear me. Shane must be in the hall. Emersyn must be as well.

“I not stay in no pee clothes. That’s just gross, Shaney.” I can just picture her scrunched up little nose. “And pee was everywhere!” I snort, not able to hold it in any longer.

Shit, I hope she is exaggerating.

“Come on, let’s get you in the tub, monkey.”

His use of a pet name washes over me, caressing my insides. It’s the first time I’ve heard him use one with the exception of his brother’s girlfriend. It’s sweet. And fitting.

Pushing off, I walk to the side of Shane’s bed where my clothes are and quickly dress.

Lord, I hope the mess isn’t too bad. I hope she didn’t ruin his mattress.

When I walk out of Shane’s bedroom, the door to the bathroom is halfway closed, obstructing my view, but I hear splashing, telling me Shane is giving her a bath. My hand pauses on the door to the room the girls and I have been staying in. The strangest sensation hits me. This feels right. Being here, Shane cleaning my child, him watching me minutes ago when my body shattered at his assistance. I feel calm. My chest doesn’t ache. I’m not walking on eggshells around someone. Is this what peace feels like?

Emersyn’s giggles pull me out of my thoughts—my revelations.

“Thanks, monk.” Shane breathes out a short laugh. “I needed that.”

“You wet.”

Oh, dear Jesus, what has she done?

Instead of going to find out, I leave Shane to handle it and enter the second bedroom, turning on the light.

Ah, hell. Did I give her a gallon of juice before she went down? Fuck. That’s a lot of piss in the center of the bed, spreading out and covering over two feet.

I shake my head, knowing there is no mattress cover under those soiled sheets. How am I going to get urine out of a bed?

“Momma. Momma.” Emersyn barrels into the room where I am. Looking down, I have a naked toddler hanging on my leg with long, wet hair.

“Sorry,” Shane says from behind me. “She escaped the towel.”

“Go put some clothes on, little lady,” I tell her. Turning toward Shane I say, “Thank you for cleaning her, but I think she ruined the bed. She has a protector on her toddler bed at . . .” I almost say home, but stop, knowing that isn’t a word I can stomach coming out of my mouth. And from the look on Shane’s face he knows that’s what I was about to say too. “At Blake’s.”

Shane just nods, lowering his head.

“I’ll get the bedding into the washer, then I’ll Google how to clean this up. I’m sorry.”

His eyes snap to mine. I watch as they darken, as if I somehow pissed him off. Eventually, he shakes his head, and then tells me, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Love.” Tingles wash over me every time he calls me by my middle name. “Kids piss beds. It happens. It’s life. It’s not a big deal. So what if the bed is ruined? Another can be bought. Don’t tell me you’re sorry again for anything you don’t have control over.”

“Yeah, well—” He cuts me off.

“No, Whitney.” He says my name in a tone that ignites a furnace in my gut. Not in a bad way, though. In a challenging way, making me cock my head to look at him. “It’s just a bed. Beds are replaceable. People aren’t.” He steps backward, and out of the room, then turns, leaving me alone with Emersyn.

I can’t help but think he has a double meaning by what he’s just said. People aren’t. People meaning me I’m guessing.

Blake would have never reacted the way Shane did. He would have blown up. He would have blamed me. They’re both so different. And only one is breaking through to that muscle in my chest.

“Okay, you.” I turn, looking down at Emersyn as she pulls leggings up her legs. She chose a The Little Mermaid T-shirt she owns to go with her pants. Ever since Eve and Chance left a few weeks ago, she’s worn that shirt at least three times a week. I can’t wash it fast enough before she’s asking for it. She says it reminds her of the pretty girl with all the colorful drawings on her arms. “You’re gonna help me take all these covers off the bed and then we are going to clean up all this mess.”

“Ewww, Momma. Gross. Do I have to?”

“Yes, ma’am, you do.”

“Is it time to go get Evlee, yet?” she asks, ignoring what I’ve just told her.

“Nope.” I squat down to her level. “We have plenty of time to clean this up before we go get your sister from school.”

When she stomps off toward the bed, I smile even more. She’s going to be trouble when she gets older.

“Hey, Whit.” I stand, looking at Shane in the doorway holding a box. “Taralynn said she mentioned to you your old journals.” He raises the box a few inches in his arms as he steps closer to me. “This is them if you want them.” He sighs, as if not wanting to give the box to me.

“I would,” I say, honestly. I’ve been wondering if I should ask him since she mentioned it. I’m too curious not to want to look at them.

I take a step toward him, taking the box from his hands. He doesn’t say anything else. He just blows out a tired breath of air, then steps back out of the room.

Sitting on the floor, Indian style, I bring the cardboard box onto my lap. It’s not taped up, but the flaps are all tucked around each other so nothing spills out. Flipping them open, I stare inside the box, seeing numerous journals. There has to be more than ten, maybe closer to fifteen inside the box. All are different in color and size. Some have words on them; some don’t.

“Momma!” I glance up. Emersyn has her hands on her hips looking at me. “I not do all this by myself.” I just raise my eyebrow, having had enough of her sass for one day. When I don’t lower it, she eventually raises her little hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I do it. But I not happy ’bout it.”

She goes back to the bed, her small hands pulling the sheets off and huffing out her exaggerated frustrations with each jerk and pull.

I giggle. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe it’s wrong. But it’s funny.

Looking back inside the box, I reach in, pulling a teal journal out. Fanning the pages, I can see all of the pages are written on.

I stop on a page and read.

I don’t read the rest. That shit is sad and makes my chest ache. And supposedly I wrote that?

Yeah, there is no supposedly. This is my handwriting. I wrote it. Deep down I feel these words, and I don’t like them. This girl, this me, she sounds broken and sad like she doesn’t believe she’s worthy of love. Shane. I wonder if that’s who she—no, I—am referring to. Probably. He did say we dated off and on for years.

Why would I ever push him away? That’s crazy. Just in the few weeks I’ve been here, I know he’s perfect. As I sit here, looking at these words, I wonder how my parents could have ever disliked him.

I haven’t spoken to my mom since that first call. I know I need to man-up everything I have in me and talk to her. But I’m so mad. And I don’t understand why. Shane is amazing. He’s a doctor for Christ’s sake, as is his parents, and I know my parents are all about appearances and money. Two things I’ve never cared about.

He’s not flashy and the little I’ve seen of his family, I don’t think they are either. So I guess . . . I suppose I see it. My parents, Blake’s parents, are all about what someone else can do for them. They hold money to the highest regard.

I jump when something touches my leg. Looking down, it’s a photo. It must have fallen out of the journal. I pick it up and my breath hitches. It’s a picture of Shane and . . . me. He’s behind me with his arms around me. I’m looking at the camera. He’s looking down at me. If there were any questions before, there aren’t anymore. He loves me. Or he loves this me, anyway.

“Momma! Momma!” I look up to see Emersyn barreling toward me. “Get it off, Momma!”

“What?” I question, shoving the box and the photo to the side so I can jump to my feet.

“Pee-pee! I got pee-pee on me!”

Oh, Lord. Is she for real?

“Come on.”