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What the hell had I been thinking?Wrong head, idiot.
I palmed my face and glanced between Mattie and the Raptor parked across the street.
Clearing my throat, I asked, “Who’s in the mood for pancakes?”
“We just ate, Daddy,” Mattie replied, not looking up from her puzzle.
“Yeah, but Auntie Alice makes the best syrup—with the butter already melted in. I can make room for one more if you guys wanna crash Saturday brunch.”
Her eyes flicked up, narrowing suspiciously. Beau, however, let out a cheerfulyippeeand made a beeline for the front door.
“To Uncle Grey’s?”
I nodded. Mattie slowly set down her tiles with surgical precision. Thankfully, her hesitation melted in the foyer. The moment her Converse were tied, she was out the door, racing after her little brother.
“Beautiful day,”I noted as I approached Leighton, where she stood on the beach watching the waves behind Greyson’s place. After a round of hellos and making sure the kids were happily situated with Alice, I wandered outside to find her. Maybe it was the fisherman’s kid in her, but when she was thinking, she was always by the water. Then again, maybe it was just a coast-baby thing. I was the same.
“The best,” she agreed, but when she turned to face me, it wasn’t joy I saw. It was worry. Fuck, I wanted to kiss it right off her face.
“Not hungry?”
“A little nauseous.”
“Yes, well—a gallon of vodka will do that.”
She snorted, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “Come on, I wasn’tthatbad.”
“No,” I said, scoffing as I bumped her elbow with mine. “But I was hoping that look on your face was just a hangover, and not my doing.”
“Ollie,” she chided, looping her arm through mine. “You’re not the cause of my premature grays.”
“Grays?” I echoed, eyeing her messy bun, frizz-curls falling over her lightly freckled nose. The breeze tossed one across her cheek, and it took every ounce of restraint not to tuck it behind her ear. I followed her gaze out to the ocean, searching the horizon like maybe some sign would appear to tell me I hadn’t just broken everything. Again.
I let the silence stretch too long before finally asking, “Whatcha thinking, Trouble?”
She swallowed. Kept her eyes on the water a beat longer before turning toward me. “I’m thinking you seem...troubled.”
“Punny.”
“I try.” She smiled, then tugged gently on my arm. “Did I mess up? Did I ruin this?”
Fear. That was fear in her eyes.
Without thinking, I cupped her face, bending just enough to meet her gaze. “God, no, Leigh. Takes two to tango, beautiful.” I wasn’t sure where to start, so I just hedged, “It’s not?—”
“But it is,” she interrupted, easing my hands from her face with practiced grace. Like she already knew what I was going to say. Like she’d seen the wheels turning and was sparing me the burden of voicing it.
“It’s fine, Ollie. Really. I didn’t expect anything from you. Thanks for...showing me a good time. I had fun.”
Knife. Heart.
“Fun?” I scoffed. “You say that like I took you to Disneyland, not?—”
“Do me a favor,” she said, arching a perfectly skeptical brow, “and save the post-game analysis for Coach Sartori.”
“Probably a good plan,” I muttered.
If there had ever been a metaphorical elephant in a room, it had never sat so squarely on my chest.