Page 28 of Hold Me Tight

Her eyes widen as they dart to mine, and we freeze for a beat.

Maybe less.

But it’s enough to leave me reeling.

Nora stirs, and Callie pulls back, as if she touched a live wire, before easily adjusting her daughter in her arms. It’s almost like Nora is an extension of her own body. Watching them together makes something inside me ache.

Without a word, she disappears down the hall. I give it a couple of minutes before trailing after her. I find Callie standing over Nora’s crib, arms folded, watching her daughter sleep, as if she’s trying to take in the moment.

She startles when I step beside her.

“Just in case you were wondering, she was really good for me,” I whisper, not wanting to wake the little girl.

A smile lifts the corners of Callie’s lips. It’s not an expression I’m used to seeing. Especially aimed in my direction. “I’m glad. I was kind of worried. She’s always with me or my parents. I thought she might cry the whole time I was gone.”

I shake my head, only wanting to give her reassurance. “Nope. She was great.” My brow furrows as I stare at the toddler. “She looks like she’s outgrown her crib.”

Callie huffs out a tired laugh. “Yeah, I know. I need to move her into something bigger.”

The words are simple, but they land heavy.

I wonder if it’s the money.

Or the time.

Or maybe everything that’s weighing on her all at once.

“We could do it this weekend,” I suggest.

Her head jerks toward me. “What?”

“I’ve got some time. And a truck. We could go and pick something out, then I can put it together for her.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

It would be impossible to miss the confusion that flares to life in her brown eyes.

“I want to,” I say, stepping a little closer.

When she remains silent, I add, “Remember when we had a conversation the other day about how it’s okay to accept help every once in a while? This would be one of those times.”

Her shoulders fall just a bit as she glances away. “There hasn’t been anyone to help in a long time.”

I lift my hand, gently slipping my fingers beneath her chin. Her skin is so damn smooth, and warmer than I expected. It’s almost a surprise when she doesn’t fight me as I tilt her face toward mine.

“I know,” I murmur. “And I’m sorry about that. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help.”

She studies me in silence for a handful of moments. Even with the dim lighting, I see all the emotions that jockey for position in her eyes. Both her pride and fear. The never-ending exhaustion of being a single parent and running a business without anyone to support her. And maybe the flicker of something she doesn’t want to admit.

To herself or me.

“Fine,” she whispers.

I don’t move.

Or speak.

I just stand beside her, close enough to catch the rise and fall of her chest.