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I wiped a tissue under my nose. “It’s just allergies. I’m okay. I was about to head home.” I hated lying, but Zoey was too young for me to lay my troubles at her feet. I squeezed her hand before letting go and standing. My legs felt a little numb from sitting on the stone wall of the fountain for so long.
Beckett crossed his arms over his chest. “Where are you parked?”
“I came by Uber.” I waved at the street. “I’m sure there’s a driver nearby.”
“We’ll drive you home.”
“You really don’t have to.” I did not need to be his charity case.
“You don’t have another option,” he snapped.
Zoey reached for my hand again and winked. “You have to listen to Daddy when he uses that tone. It’s his no-nonsense voice.”
“Is it now?” My brows raised.
“Yup. So we better get moving, or we’ll get in trouble for not listening.” Zoey tugged me along with her.
I bit my lip, a shiver working its way through my body at the fleeting thought that getting punished by Beckett might not be such a bad thing.
I glanced at him.
His eyes caught mine before I quickly turned back around. The heat in them made my breath catch, and I wondered if he’d had the same thoughts as me.
Chapter Seven
BECKETT
Igrit my teeth as I followed my daughter and Wren to the car. Zoey happily held Wren’s hand and chatted alongside her. The moment I’d caught a glimpse of her tear-streaked face, my heart rate doubled, and my protective instincts flared.
The pain that had flashed in her eyes made me want to slay whoever had made her feel that way. At first, I feared she’d been attacked and needed help, but once I established she was upset, likely from the phone call she’d received, the adrenaline coursing through me struggled to abate. It was all I could do to not throw her over my shoulder and take her far away from there.
Oblivious to my inner turmoil, Zoey and Wren walked ahead of me.
“Do you have plans for this weekend?” Zoey asked.
“I’ll probably help out Ruby in the bakery,” she responded, sounding far more cheery than she had moments before.
“That sounds like fun!”
“Most of the time, it is.” I loved how patient she was with all of my daughter’s questions. I could see why her whole class adored her.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Wren shook her head. “I always wished I did, but my mother died when I was young, and when my father remarried, he didn’t have any children with my stepmother.”
Zoey stayed silent, her mouth opening and closing as though she was choosing her words carefully. “How old were you?”
We’d arrived at the car, but Wren made no move to get inside. Instead, she took Zoey’s hands and looked her straight in the eye. “A little younger than you. I was six.”
I leaned in closer as a wave of protectiveness surged, making me want to protect the child Wren used to be.
“Does it ever stop hurting?” Sorrow clung to my child’s words. My fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and soothe her, but I tightened my fists instead. She needed this moment with someone who understood her grief in a way I couldn’t. No matter how hard I tried.
“I wish I could say it does, but then I’d be lying, and that’s not what you want to know. But I will say it gets easier to deal with.”
“But how do you know it’ll get easier? What if it never does?” Zoey’s whisper pierced my heart. A feeling of helplessness tightened my muscles and left me aching to bellow at the unfairness of life.
“It will. I promise. One day you’ll wake up, and it won’t hurt as much, and eventually, you’ll go weeks or even months where you feel okay. The first year is the hardest.” Wren tugged a hand free and smoothed back Zoey’s bangs. “But you’re lucky. You have your dad, and he loves you so much.”