By the time we get back to Kyle’s apartment, it’s late. He heads straight for his room and I go put Ellie down for the night before I take a shower. As the warm water flows down my body, I think back on this evening. I would have loved to accept Piper’s invitation to be a part of her wedding. How I long for that normalcy in my life. Will I ever be able to do things like that without thinking about the ramifications?
For almost a week now, I’ve been Lexi again. And it’s been great. I feel like I can finally be myself. Around them. Around him. And a small part of me, deep down inside, wants to go along with them and file for divorce and full custody. But the very large part—the part that owns my heart—is not willing to take even the smallest chance that Ellie could be taken from me.
I comb through my wet hair and put on my tank top and undies before I pad back down the hallway to my bedroom. When I reach the doorway, I stop. My breath hitches when I see what’s inside. Kyle is rocking Ellie.
And he’s shirtless.
His head is resting against the rocking chair and his eyes are closed as he glides back and forth. He’s completely unaware that I’m standing here staring at him.
I’ve never seen him without a shirt before. And even though he’s mostly covered by Ellie, I can clearly see the outline of his abs, the strong lines of his chest, the low dip of his lounge pants. Oh, my God.
I can feel my nipples pebble under the thin material of my shirt and all of a sudden, I’m reminded of my lack of clothing. I start to cross the room to get my robe when I hear his softly spoken words.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he whispers. “She was crying.”
I look over at him to see his eyes taking me in. I might as well be wearing nothing. And with the way my nipples are poking through my shirt, I might as well be wearing a sign that says how much I want him.
Embarrassed, I cross my arms over my chest and finish my walk across the room, hyperaware that he’s now seeing my backside, thanks to my teeny-tiny panties.
I put on my robe, that itself, barely covers my thighs. “No, I don’t mind. Thanks for getting her back to sleep,” I say. “I do that, too, you know—whisper when she’s sleeping.”
He smiles, looking down on her dark head of fine curls. “It’s amazing to hold her, knowing I’m the one who brought her into the world. I literally put my hand inside you and pulled her out. Isn’t that incredible?”
I nod, staring at them with tears welling in my eyes. This is how it should be. Ellie should have a man in her life who loves her. Who gets emotional when he holds her. Who thinks she’s wonderful just the way she is.
I remember how he was with all the kids at Charlie’s tonight. He played with them. Helped feed them. Picked them up and cuddled them when they fell down. He’s everyone’s favorite uncle. This man was born to be a father.
“You’re good with kids, Kyle,” I tell him. “Maybe you should go into pediatrics.”
He kisses the top of Ellie’s head and lightning bolts shoot through me, just as if he’d kissed the top of mine.
“I considered it early on,” he says. “But ultimately, my goal is to run my own clinic. Emergency medicine gives me a better background for that.”
“Run your own clinic?” I ask. “What does that mean exactly?”
“You know, for people who don’t have insurance. So they can get better care than most places are willing to give them. So they can feel like normal people instead of being ashamed of who they are.”
“You mean for people like me,” I say, trying to keep the self-pity out of my voice.
“There are a lot of reasons people can’t afford health care, Lexi. You are just one example. We’re all just one bad circumstance away from being in someone else’s shoes.”
I smile at his motto. “Is that why you wanted to help me, Kyle? Because you thought I was down on my luck? But many people are down on their luck. Surely you don’t pay for everyone’s hospital stay.” I motion at our opulent surroundings. “Although it looks like you might be able to afford it. So, why me?” It’s a question I’ve wondered about a lot over the past six months.
He stares at me, gathering his thoughts. He shrugs. “Just a feeling, I guess. You looked so put together, yet you had nothing. You seemed educated, but you walked dogs for a living. Something was just . . . off. I felt it right from the start. From the minute I saw you sitting on the bench outside the ER.”
He gets up from the chair and walks Ellie to the crib, gently placing her down to sleep on her back as I watch from over his shoulder. When he turns around, he bumps into me, but I don’t move. Our chests are close and his gaze locks onto me as we look into each other’s eyes.
His hand comes up to play with a lock of my hair and he stares at it, bemused. He once said he liked me as a brunette. I wonder if he’s thinking about seeing me as a blonde. A redhead. He works my hair between his fingers and all I can think about is what it would feel like to have his hands on me, touching my body like he’s touching my hair.
His eyes find mine again. They speak volumes. They tell me he wants exactly what I want. To touch me. To kiss me. Kiss me like he did over six months ago on my hospital bed. It was the only kiss we ever shared. The kiss I knew I’d always remember. The kiss that had me seeing my future and forgetting my past. The kiss that had me risking everything to come back and knock on his door.
He looks at me with a possessive, heavy-lidded stare, the intensity of his gaze winding through my entire body. My breathing accelerates. My pulse races. My insides are on fire being this close to him. I want him. I want him more than I want my freedom. More than I want my sanity. More than I want air.
His eyes break from mine when he puts his hand down, dropping my hair as he takes a step back. Emotionally. Physically. And it’s now that I notice the front of his lounge pants are tented. I want to reach out and grab him, pull him back against me. Show him how great we can be together. But I don’t, because his eyes are now telling me a different story than they were just moments ago. And it’s a story I don’t want to hear.
He sighs deeply, grabbing the back of his neck. “I—I’m sorry. I have an early morning,” he says, his apologetic eyes now dark with pain.
He looks back down at a sleeping Ellie and then pads out of the room, shaking his head along the way.
I shut off the light, close the door and flop down on my bed in frustration. He wants this. It’s all too evident by the way he looks at me. By the swell in his pants. Why can’t he just let it happen?
I crawl beneath my covers, anxious and confused as hell, my body wired as tightly as a bow string. I let my hand wander under my shirt; under my panties, thinking of those hazel eyes, that unruly hair I’d like to run my hands through, those naked abs, his tented pants . . .