Page 29 of Juan

She replayed his words in her head, turning them over. “It might cause a problem otherwise” whispered through her. She stifled an inhale as the meaning sank in. He cared about her. As more than a friend. As more than a woman he was helping. He didn’t want her to want anyone else the way she wanted him.

Her realization must have shown on her face, and he flashed a lopsided smile. “There you have it,” he said.

And she did. She knew his secret. But that smile wasn’t all she’d seen in his expression. She studied him now. Not knowing what prompted her, she asked, “What was your childhood like?” None of the Falcons had had idyllic ones—it was a big part of the reason they did what they did—but she didn’t know his specifics.

The smile vanished, and his muscles tensed under her hands. “I didn’t have much of one. My mom died of an OD before I formed any memories of her, and the state took me away from Dad when I was six. I bounced around foster care until I aged out and enlisted.”

Her heart broke for him, but she needed to know more. “How many?”

He cocked his head.

“How many foster families were you with before you aged out?”

“A lot,” he replied quickly. Too quickly. She stared at him. “Maybe we can have this conversation another time. You know, like when you didn’t just meet your daughter you thought had died and found out that your ex might be involved in a bunch of murders.”

“It’s going to be about me and Zoe for a while as we sort through everything. Right now, it’s about you. How many, Spencer?” She didn’t really understand why she was digging in, but it felt important.

The muscles of his jaw bulged as he clenched it. She held his gaze. His nostrils flared as he took a breath. His spine stiffened and his gaze sharpened, as if bracing himself. “Eighteen.”

Her stomach flipped at how quickly the answer came, even seventeen years later. More than one family a year. No stability, no time to build connections or feel safe, no one to rely on, to count on. No one but himself.

She hadn’t seen just hope in his eyes, but a wary hope. Spencer was not a man who trusted easily or often. Until now, she hadn’t fully grasped how hard it must be for him. Life had taught him that. And yet he wanted to trust her, to trust her with something so vulnerable, so bruised, so tender. His heart.

He’d put it out there, maybe not in so many words, but in the way he knew how. And now he braced for her reaction. For her rejection. In every line of his body, she felt his anxious anticipation.

“Now’s not the right time for this, Amber,” he said, stepping back.

She curled her fingers into his shirt and pulled him back. She had no idea what she was doing. After escaping Anthony, the thought of building something with another man never crossed her mind. Being that vulnerable again terrified her. But the possibility of Spencer thinking she didn’t want him—that she was rejecting him—terrified her more. Hurt her in a soul-searing way.

“I don’t have the answers, Spencer. I don’t know what next month or next week or even what the next hour will bring. I don’t know if I’ll ever be…‘normal’ about sex again or if I’ll ever truly heal from what happened to me. I’m a package deal now and need to figure out how to be a mom, a working mom. I don’t know how I’m going to juggle that—”

“Like I said, wrong time to be talking about this. We don’t have to talk about it all. I’ll respect that, Amber,” he said, his voice stiff but kind.

“No, I’m not done. Listen to me, Spencer.” She waited until his eyes landed on her before continuing. “There are so many unknowns, and probably more coming that I can’t even imagine right now. But if you’re willing, there’s no one I’d rather have by my side to help me figure them out than you. I want you, Spencer. I picked you for a reason, and it wasn’t because of your reputation.” She paused, then smiled. “Okay, maybe a little because of that.”

To her shock, a blush climbed up his neck. Never in a million years would she have expected that.

“I picked you because you’ve been there for me time and time again over the past year. A steady sounding board, an encouraging presence, a shoulder I’ve felt comfortable crying on, and a friend I’ve laughed with. You’ve given me so much and then when you agreed to, well, you know—”

He smiled. “I definitely know.”

A laugh bubbled up, but they stilled when Zoe shifted in the crib, rolling over again and throwing her arm out.

Their attention lingered on the tiny human sleeping so peacefully.

“I can’t get over her fingers and toes,” Spencer said. “They’re so tiny and perfect.”

She smiled. “And the little rolls on her legs.”

“And her cheeks. She has a dimple, did you notice?”

She nodded, then rested her head on Spencer’s chest. He lifted his hand and ran his fingers through her hair. “You’ve given me so much, Spencer,” she said. “And in the next few months, maybe years, I’m going to need more. Don’t doubt I want you, but it feels imbalanced. It doesn’t feel fair to you.”

He continued combing his deft fingers through her hair as he set his cheek on the top of her head. “I get to decide what’s fair to me. And right now, the fact that you want me by your side is enough. It’s more than enough. Now we should leave the little sleeping beauty to her rest and see what the real world holds for us outside these doors.”

She huffed. “I want to stay here.”

“I don’t blame you.”