Page 16
They’d tackled the backlog of laundry the night before, resetting their routines and getting the house back in order after his days in Virginia, her travel to Athens, and Louise’s funeral.
“Sounds good.” He sorted flatware into the drawer, his voice toneless. “Thanks.”
Still checked out, then, his emotional capacity maxed out. Pushing him, digging into what his emotions were wouldn’t help when he was stressed, either. His leaning into the girls made sense as well — he was wired for that, to shore up the relationships that were important to him when loss was fresh.
And if there wasn’t room for her at the moment, if he couldn’t turn to her yet, well, they were long term and he’d come back to her, when time and healing allowed.
In the meantime, she’d give him the space he needed, support him where he allowed, and wait for him.
Since he had the morning under control and obviously wanted his hands busy, she showered and dressed while he prepared breakfast. Leaving her shoes on the foot of the bed, she wandered to the kitchen only to find both her daughters had finished eating. In the family room, Tick sat in the armchair, phone balanced on his thigh and Eva standing between his knees while he braided her hair. Zeb sprawled on the floor, half snoozing, half watching Tick.
“Mama, will you quiz me on my bio terms?” Her own braid tapping between her shoulders, Eleanor slid her notebook across the island. Caitlin settled on a stool and lifted the notebook, calling out vocabulary while sliding the occasional glance at Tick’s face.
After missing two terms from the list, Eleanor fidgeted with the edge of her blazer. “Will you talk through those with me in the car? I need to know all of them.”
“I’m driving this morning, Ace.” Tick nudged Eva forward and rose, sliding his phone in his shorts pocket. Zeb heaved to his feet and followed him to the kitchen. “But we can review them.”
Eleanor looked between them. “But you took us yesterday.”
Caitlin smiled at her, wrapping an arm around Eva who threw a hug around her waist. “We’re resetting our routine since we got off track yesterday.”
“Can I ride in the front?” Eva folded her hands on the island and rested her chin on them.
Tick looked up from his email app, gaze steady on her face. “No.”
The girls gathered their bags and lunches, and after a round of hugs and kisses, they trooped out the door with Tick, Eva’s voice drifting back. “Daddy, why does Eleanor get to ride in the front and I have to ride in the back? When can I ride in the front?”
“When you’re twelve . . .” The door shut, cutting off Tick’s voice. The lock whirred into place.
Caitlin turned from closing the dishwasher.
He hadn’t kissed her goodbye.
The lock whirred once more, and the door opened, strong footsteps in the foyer preceding his appearance. Striding to her, a harried expression on his face, he folded his hand on the back of her head and dropped a hard kiss on her mouth, gone before he was really there. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Caitlin started to pull him back, but he was already moving toward the threshold.
And all at once, he was gone.
Uneasy all over again, she went to gather their drycleaning.
In their dressing room, she pulled his gray suit from the hamper, then his navy tie. She rubbed her thumb over the silk, memories cascading through her — the deep rumble of his laugh, the way he rasped her name near her ear as he came, the intensity of his dark gaze on hers when he was inside her.
She loved being the focus of that intensity. Still, he threw himself into responsibility with the same focus.
The fidelity made him the man he was, made him the man she loved. Not to mention the absolute opposite of her father.
Reaching into the hamper, she laid his black suit over her arm, struck by the weight of the fine wool fabric.
He needed time to process, and he wasn’t taking it. A memory flashed through her mind, that desperate boy from a spring break beach seeking refuge in her. She’d wanted agency. He’d wanted peace.
The night had given her Eleanor, and her daughter had provided the strength and impetus to seize agency over her own life.
His peace had come later. It lived in their home — she was his peace. The girls. Even the damn—
A cold nose brushed her ankle.
The scream ripped free of her throat. Heart thudding — God, her startle reflex was insane, years after Fuller’s attack — she glared at Zeb.
