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“I worked every job I could find, finished high school and went to college,” I continue. “I was determined to build a different life from my parents, so I did.”

“That’s it?” Dean asks gently.

“That’s it,” I lie.

I brush it off like it’s no big deal, but the truth is, my childhood still breaks my heart. I look at the children I teach every day and can’t understand how anyone could put their own child in danger.

How they could simply not care.

Maybe that’s part of why I admire Dean so much.

Aspen’s mother left, and he stepped up. Not because anyone praised him for it or because he had something to prove.

Because he loves being her dad.

It’s written into everything he does.

“Sixteen is fucking young, Blair.” Dean cups my cheek in his palm.

I shrug. “Felt old at the time.”

“I bet it did.”

There’s no pity in his voice.

Somehow, that makes it easier.

I lean up and kiss him before slipping out from beneath the blankets to search for my clothes.

“Where are you going?” Dean asks, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Home?”

“Stay.”

I pause with my sweater clutched against my chest.

The expression on his face makes it clear how much he wants me to.

And fuck, I want to stay too.

“Dean,” I say carefully. “Aspen is right down the hall.”

“She’s asleep.”

“She won’t be forever.” I sit on the edge of the bed and look at him. “You said you weren’t ready for her to see this side of us yet. If she wakes up and finds me here in the morning, wearing your shirt or sneaking out of your bedroom, that’s exactly what will happen.”

Dean falls silent.

“Fuck.” He drags a hand over his face. “You’re right.”

“I know. It’s annoying.”

That earns me a quiet laugh, but the disappointment remains in his eyes.

“I still want you to stay,” he admits.

My chest tightens. “I know.”