Page 12 of More Than Words (Trickle Creek: The Lyons #2)

“Oh, I just assumed you knew.” Mrs. Kelly’s brow furrowed. “Quinn mentioned how busy you’ve been lately with…” She waved her arm around and trailed off. “Well, I’m sure she meant to say something to you and it just slipped her mind.”

“Right.” I forced a smile on my face. “I’m sure she did.”

We exchanged a few more pleasantries before Quinn’s teacher slipped back into the crowd.

I stood there, stunned for a beat. Not angry. Not really.

I just felt…something.

Delaney had stepped in for Quinn. And she hadn’t told me.

Neither of them had.

Part of me hated that, for so many reasons.

But the other part of me? The part that couldn’t stop picturing Delaney’s soft smile and the way Quinn lit up around her?

Well, that part of me wasn’t sure what to feel at all.

Delaney

I didn’t bother stifling my yawn as I pulled my long hair up into a messy bun and took my contact lenses out for the evening.

Social events exhausted me at the best of times, but the brewery opening with so many people packed into a small space and…well, Ethan and whatever was going on there…had absolutely drained me.

I know I wasn’t imagining the connection between us.

And that was the entire problem. And the reason I felt so unsettled.

I’d spent the better part of the evening trying to convince myself that I hadn’t been impressed by this new version of him. Or at least, the new-to-me version.

Like the original opinion of him I’d built up in my head—the over-the-top charming, way too smooth and cocky version—had never really existed at all.

It would be so easy to give in to whatever it was that was happening with him. But I knew better. Didn’t I?

I was too tired to think about it.

I tugged the oversized slouchy knit sweater that should have been thrown out ages ago, but I couldn’t seem to part with, over the tank top I slept in and was just about to grab my book and climb into bed when I heard the knock.

I froze, unsure I’d heard properly.

The door that led straight up the stairs to my apartment over the shop was in the back, and hardly used considering I tended to come and go through the shop, and I rarely had visitors.

I waited for a moment. Three sharp raps. Hesitant but purposeful. I hadn’t been hearing things.

I glanced at the clock. It was almost midnight.

I padded across the apartment, the old wooden floor cool under my feet, and peeked out the little window that looked down to the alley below.

Ethan.

What was he doing here?

Still in his button-down from earlier, with his sleeves rolled up, he wasn’t wearing a coat. His hair was slightly mussed, like he’d run his hands through it a million times. He looked good. But also tired….and restless.

I headed down the steep back stairs to unlock the door.

“Ethan. Hey.” I wrapped my sweater tightly around me, aware I was wearing little more than my pajama shorts and tank top.

“You wear glasses?”

It was the last thing I expected him to say after knocking on my door at midnight. “I do.” Reflexively, I pushed my thick plastic frames up the bridge of my nose. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean no. Not really. I don’t know.”

“Do you want to come in?”

He looked past me at the tiny staircase that led to my place. “No.” He shook his head. “I mean, thank you. But I know it’s super late, and I don’t want to keep you. I should have…I mean, I can come back in the morning when?—”

“No.” I put a hand on his arm. “It’s fine. What’s going on? Is it a beer emergency?” I tried for a joke, but he didn’t crack a smile.

He shook his head. “It’s Quinn.”

Something in my chest tightened, and the smile fell from my face. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, seeing my concern. “It’s just…I ran into her teacher tonight,” he said, his voice low. “She told me that Quinn did a great job at career day. With you.”

I swallowed hard. “Oh.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

I shook my head and wrapped my arms tighter around my waist. “Quinn asked me not to.”

I didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes before it was replaced by something else. His jaw tightened. “And you listened to her?”

“I did. She didn’t want to hurt you,” I said, trying not to let my voice rise. “She was upset and disappointed with her mother and didn’t want to make it your problem. She didn’t want it to be a whole thing.”

“And you think that stepping in without saying anything… that’s not a whole thing?”

I bristled and took a small step back. “I was trying to help, Ethan. It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is,” he said sharply, before catching himself. “It is a big deal,” he tried again, his voice softer now. “Quinn tells me everything. We’re a partnership.”

Something inside me softened. I reached for his arm again. “You still are,” I told him. “She knows how busy you’ve been. I really think she just didn’t want to add to your worry. It was fine.”

Ethan inhaled. A moment later, when he blew out his breath, there was the trace of a smile on his lips. “I know.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I mean, I really do know.”

I removed my hand, tightening the sweater that had slipped open.

“I’m not even mad,” he said. “I just—” He stopped. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

That made two of us. Not that I was ready to volunteer that piece of information.

We stood there, the silence between us growing into something more.

“You’re a great dad, Ethan,” I said after a moment. “Quinn is an awesome kid. That’s because of you.”

He looked at me, really looked at me. My heart thudded in my chest.

“Delaney.”

I swallowed hard.

He stepped closer. Just enough for the air to shift between us.

His gaze dropped to my mouth for just the briefest moment before snapping back to my eyes. “This isn’t why I came here.”

“Why did you come?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice low and raw. “To say thank you. To be annoyed. To ask you why you wouldn’t tell me about it.” He ran a hand over his face and tried again. “I came to see you.”

My heart raced. It was hard to breathe.

I don’t remember who moved first. Maybe we both did.

But the second his mouth was on mine, every single thing dropped away.

He kissed me like he’d been holding himself back for weeks. One hand settled on my hip, the other skimming the curve of my jaw before cupping my cheek. His touch was careful and desperate, as if he wasn’t sure how long it would last.

And I kissed him back, like nothing else mattered. Not the tentative truce we’d declared. Not the new friendship we’d been building. Not the fact that neither of us could afford messy or complicated.

By the time we pulled apart, I was breathless and more than a little stunned at what had just happened.

Then he stepped back. He lifted one hand, touched his index finger to his lower lip and smiled softly. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I didn’t come here to do that either.”

And then, before I could find my voice, he gave me one last look, turned and disappeared into the night, leaving me staring after him.