Page 17 of More Than Words (Trickle Creek: The Lyons #2)

“So do you,” my brother said more forcefully. “You don’t win any prizes putting your own life on hold any longer than you already have.”

“I know.”

But I didn’t. Not really. From the moment I’d found out Polly was pregnant, it had always been about Quinn. Every single thing I’d ever done. Every decision. Every move. It had been for Quinn. I wasn’t sure I knew how to put my own needs first.

Or whether I should.

The idea of blending my life—my daughter’s life—with anyone else was overwhelming and more than a little bit terrifying. But I didn’t need to think about that. Not yet.

Sensing I was done with the topic, Reid broke the silence that had developed over the line. “I’ll check in with you later,” Reid said. “Let me know if you need anything, and be safe if you go out there.”

“You too, brother. Thanks.”

I ended the call and leaned up against the bar, staring out the front windows at the winter wonderland outside.

I thought about Delaney’s smile when I promised her I’d be back for breakfast.

About how fucking amazing it had been to have her in my arms. To kiss her. To make her cry out.

About how damn easy it had been to fall asleep with her in my arms.

And just how hard it had been to leave her side this morning.

Maybe Reid was right.

Maybe I did deserve good things.

Delaney was definitely a good thing.

A very good thing.

But it wasn’t just me I needed to think about anymore. If I let someone in and it all fell apart, what about Quinn? She already loved Delaney. Probably more than she was letting on.

If I screwed this up, or if Delaney changed her mind or decided we weren’t worth the trouble, what would that do to my kid?

Her mother had already let her down more times than was fair.

I wasn’t sure she could handle any more disappointment.

And I wasn’t so sure I could either.

Delaney

Ethan had been gone for thirty minutes already. Longer than I’d expected.

Hopefully, things were okay with his tanks. The storm had been a bad one. I didn’t know enough—or anything, really—about how a long power outage would affect beer. But it probably wasn’t good.

I pulled my old sweater tighter around me to ward off the chill that raced through me.

The power had come back on at some point before we’d woken. My little apartment was starting to warm up again, but that’s not why I shivered.

From the moment the door had shut behind Ethan this morning, I’d been worried.

About the cold.

The effects of the storm.

Us.

That was the big one.

What happened between us had been amazing and perfect in so many ways. But also totally unplanned. And as amazing as it had been to wake up in his arms with the heat of him wrapped around me—and it had—we didn’t have a chance to talk about what happened. Or what it might mean.

It did mean something, didn’t it?

It had to.

At least for me. I didn’t sleep with men without— no.

I forced myself to stop spinning out of control and focused once more on the task at hand.

Coffee.

Ethan was coming back. He’d told me so. I had no reason not to believe him.

I set the water on to boil and moved to the front window that overlooked the plaza.

A thick, white blanket coated absolutely everything. Huge drifts had blown up against the doors and windows of the shops. From where I stood, I couldn’t even see the gazebo at the far end of the plaza.

I saw a flash of movement below.

Ethan.

He was bundled up in his parka with a shovel in hand.

He tackled the massive amount of snow in front of his shop before he moved to do mine next. He’d just started on what looked to be a never-ending task when a little snowplow appeared around the corner, along with a few other men I couldn’t recognize in their winter gear.

As if Ethan could sense me watching, he looked up and smiled.

I lifted a hand in a wave, a smile of my own taking over my face.

He was definitely going to be a bit longer still, so I turned my attention to making coffee and trying to find something besides leftover stew for us to eat when he returned.

I was curled up on the couch with a book when, almost an hour later, I finally heard a knock on my door, followed by Ethan’s voice. “I’m back.”

My heart skipped at the sound. “Hey.” I set my book down and turned to see him still wearing his puffy jacket with a knit tuque on his head and a brown bag in his hands. “How was it out there?”

I felt a flash of guilt for not helping out, but given that I only had a very small, and totally inadequate shovel, I probably wouldn’t have done much more than get in the way.

I left the couch and moved across the room.

“There is a lot of snow out there.” He laughed as he slipped out of his coat and hung it on a hook before pulling me in for a kiss. “Mm,” he murmured when he pulled away. “But that was very nice.”

He reached to pull me in again, but I laughed and reached for the bag as my stomach growled. “Don’t tell me this is from the Bean Bag.”

“Then I won’t tell you that.” He winked and moved into the small kitchen where the pot of coffee was waiting for him. “But Dale managed to make it through the snow to whip up some scones for the snow removal crew, and I convinced her to sneak me a few extra.”

My mouth watered as I slid the fresh pastries from the bag onto a plate.

“It was either that or we were going to be trekking through the snow to the inn where Reid and Avery are serving up pancakes, but I thought this would be better.”

He gave me a heated look, and my stomach flipped.

“This is much better.”

We settled on the couch—mugs of coffee in hand, the plates of scones on the coffee table—and just like that, all the worry, doubts, and stress that I’d let sneak in, even a little bit, evaporated.

Being with Ethan like that was quiet in a comfortable and easy kind of way. There was no need to speak or fill the moment with conversation. It was quiet in a way I hadn’t realized I missed.

Ethan leaned back and draped one arm loosely over the back of the couch. His fingers brushed my shoulder easily. Naturally.

I put a piece of the cinnamon swirl scone in my mouth, closing my eyes to better enjoy the flaky pastry. “Oh my God, this scone is so good.”

“ This is so good.”

My eyes popped open. I shifted in my seat to see him grinning. “It is, isn’t it?” I asked.

“It really is.” He nodded. “And last night was…”

“Pretty good, too.”

Ethan laughed. “It was a whole lot better than good.”

“Yeah. It was.” I leaned my head to his shoulder and took a slow breath, breathing in the moment before returning to my coffee.

We fell into another stretch of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, but instead felt like we were both trying to figure out what might come next without saying it out loud.

Finally, Ethan cleared his throat. “About Quinn.”

I tensed, just a little, my fingers tightening around my mug.

“I think maybe we shouldn’t say anything to her yet,” he said. “At least not until we…”

“Know what this is?”

“Exactly.” He nodded. “It’s just that I haven’t really dated at all since her mother and…well, we’re in some uncharted territory here. I just want to make sure I handle it properly, is all.”

He didn’t sound uncertain, just careful. I already knew that Ethan was an excellent father, but seeing the way he was so considerate and careful about Quinn’s feelings made sense.

And really, I couldn’t blame him for being cautious. Quinn was his daughter.

Still, it settled in my chest like something sharp.

I swallowed hard. “Sure,” I said. “That makes sense.”

Ethan looked at me for a second longer, as though he could tell that his request hadn’t landed the way he’d expected it to. But instead of pushing the issue, he reached out and brushed a finger over the back of my hand.

A small gesture.

One that told me he did care.

Even if he wasn’t ready to say it out loud yet.