Page 39 of Caution to the Wind

I was glad of my viewpoint when Henning pushed out the door and storm door into the front yard and paused on the top step to stare mutely at his stepdaughter. Surprisingly, he’d changed into an old suit he’d worn while working at the hospital with charcoal-grey trousers and a crisp white button-up that strained slightly across the width of his broad chest. With his hair brushed into gleaming waves around his ears and his tattoos covered up, he looked like the Henning I’d first met years ago before tragedy and circumstance had made him harder, rougher around the edges.

Cleo twirled for him, satin skirt flaring. “What do you think?”

I watched as he swallowed hard, once, twice then shook his head. Cleo’s smile faltered a little, confused.

But I knew Henning and his struggle to find the right words at the right times. He was a man of action more than speech, so it didn’t surprise me at all when he shook off his shock and stalked down the steps to her side. He stared down at her for a long minute, the last of the sun’s rays penetrating his irises, turning them translucent and green as sea glass.

One hand, huge and scarred, reached up slowly and gently curled around Cleo’s cheek.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said gruffly. “So much like your mum. Fuck, she’d be so proud of the woman you’re becomin’, Glory. Almost as proud as me.”

Tears sprang to my best friend’s eyes. “Dad, don’t. I’ll ruin my makeup.”

“There’s no ruinin’ anythin’ about your beauty,” he countered easily before gathering her in his arms like she was delicate, breakable.

Lin moved to my side and nudged me with her shoulder as we watched the tender moment between them.

“Never thought he’d have kids,” she divulged in a little murmur. “A boy who always wore the weight of the world on his shoulders, I think he thought it’d be too much for him to bear. He always felt so deeply. Drove his dad crazy. He called Henning ‘too soft’ like that was a crime. I think it’s why Hen enlisted, to prove he was the kind of man his dad wanted him to be. It nearly killed him, and not just physically. When he came back…well, studying medicine helped, but saving Kate and Cleo…that made all the difference. Really, they saved him. When we lost Kate, I thought he might break under the strain.”

A pause as she captured their embrace on the camera.

“Now, look at him.”

I was looking. In fact, I didn’t think I could have looked away if a bomb went off next door.

Thiswas what I wanted for myself.

Not from my dad, exactly. I knew that wasn’t in the cards for us or Florent’s power to give me. I had it with my mum when she made time for me, but…she was too sick to share moments like this with me, now, and probably never again. I had it with Old Dragon, of a sort, though he was of a different generation when effusiveness was rare and a sign of weakness instead of strength.

No, I didn’t want thattypeof love, but the magnitude of it.

I wanted a man to tremble as he held back his strength to touch me like I was made of glass, not because he thought I was weak, but because he thought I was precious. I wanted a man to change his career because it would have meant too much time away from me even though I’d never ask him to do so. I wanted a man who’d join a criminal motorcycle gang just to find justice for my murder. I wanted a man who would always try to save me, even when I tried to sabotage myself.

I wanted what Cleo had, but not how she had it.

I wanted Henning.

Not as a father figure.

But as aman.

My man.

My breath left my body in a long whoosh until my lungs were compressed in my chest, and I thought I’d never breathe again.

My God, I was in love with Henning Axelsen.

As if sensing the shifting tectonic plates of my reality, Henning looked up from Cleo and straight at me.

I tried to breathe and failed again.

Because he was so beautiful, the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Why didn’t women talk about men like that? It wasn’t only feminine to be so beautiful. It spoke of his goodness, the generosity of his heart, and the power of his kind, keen gaze. It spoke of a man who was confident enough in himself to be soft when needed and strong enough to take on the whole world if someone he loved was at risk.

God, he was beautiful.

And at that moment, I knew I’d never love anyone better than I lovedhim. So much of the kindness I’d experienced in my life had been at the hands of Henning, and what made that all the more poignant was that he had absolutely no obligation to be good to me. I was no one, not tied to him through blood or marriage, but only the relationship I’d forged with his deceased wife and her daughter largely before I’d ever even known him. It was in this way that he made me feel worthy. If I could earn the kindness and love of such a man, I had to be worth something even though I so often felt less than in the eyes of my overachieving family.