Page 40 of Where She Belongs

He stayed frozen a while, staring after her. Then, because he didn’t have anything better to do, he wandered after her. A smile toyed at his lips the more he thought about what had happened. It had felt natural to touch her like that, and she hadn’t minded.

Was it possible she might have feelings for him as well?

He didn’t want to hope and yet that was exactly what he was doing.

Tate entered the kitchen just as Rylee tossed a pair of oven mitts on the counter. She turned, flashed him a smile, then asked, “Well, you ready to get this show on the road?” Without waiting for his response, she led him toward the stairs and to the second level. “The door is stuck. I think at one point someone tried to get inside and broke the string that was attached.”

When he reached her side, she was staring at the ceiling, hands on her hips, and brows furrowed. He glanced up and sure enough, there was an attic door without the string that would allow them entry.

He nodded to himself a moment then turned to head for the stairs again.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

“I’m going to get my tool belt and the ladder. We’ll get it open, don’t worry.” Tate returned shortly after with everything he knew they might need. Before long they had the door open.

Rylee stared up at the hole in the ceiling, that adorable line between her brows. Tate pressed his thumb to the indentation and just like the last time he’d touched her, she startled.

“You don’t look so sure that you want to go up there,” Tate murmured.

She grimaced. “You know how when you’re a kid you make places scarier than they should be? Well, the attic is that for me.”

He fought a smile. Then he slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Her eyes found his once again and that smile she wore nearly blinded him. “My own little knight in shining armor, huh?”

“Something like that.” He turned to the pull-down ladder then jerked his chin upward. “I’ll go first. How about that.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

After a little more coaxing, Tate and Rylee were both in the attic with boxes surrounding them. There was a little natural light, but they worked mostly by the single bulb still swinging from the pull of its string.

Rylee was immersed in an ancient-looking photo album while Tate wandered through the attic to explore the other things her father had put in storage. He snickered when he found an old dress, then held it up for Rylee to see when she glanced at him with curiosity.

She wrinkled her nose. “That looks like it needed to stay in the late 1800s.”

“What? You don’t like it? I could totally see you rocking a dress that covers you from your neck all the way down to your ankles.”

Her snort had him smiling wider. He returned the dress to its box and moved closer to her. “What are we looking for?” His eyes snagged on the picture that Rylee was so engrossed in. “Who’s that?”

Rylee’s finger traced over the face of the woman. “My mother.”

That put a chill clean through him. “Your… mom?”

She nodded.

“Didn’t she leave when you were a kid?”

“Four.” Rylee continued to stare at the picture, the sadness and longing tearing his heart in half. “I barely remember her. Just flashes, you know?” She tossed him a flicker of a smile. “But when she left, she took a piece of me with her. It left a hole in my heart and… honestly… it makes me wonder if I’ll ever be…”

He kneeled beside her. He didn’t like seeing this side of her. She’d gone from being happy and teasing to—this. Tate let the quiet sit a moment before he nudged her. “If you’ll ever be…”

It was dim, but not so much that he didn’t see the flush of embarrassment written all over her face. “Nothing,” she whispered.

This time he shook his head and caught her chin. “None of that, sweetheart. What were you going to say.”

Rylee pulled her face away from him if only to wipe at a stray tear that skidded down her cheek. “Enough. I never thought I was enough. My mom was the first person to walk away because she didn’t want me. It makes me wonder if I’m even cut out to be a mother with what I have to look up to.” She barked out a laugh. “Childhood trauma is awful, isn’t it? Now I feel like I can’t trust myself… with anyone.”

Boy, that hurt more than it should have. She didn’t mean him, did she?