Page 37 of Trick

I grab her hand and press a kiss to the inside of her wrist in an attempt to douse the flames dancing in her eyes. The way she relaxes as my lips touch her skin has any doubts that it was the wrong move fading.

“Trick…” She says my name softly, but it vibrates through my chest anyway.

I kiss her there again then release my hold before I do something I can’t take back, but fuck, do I want to.

“Thanks for helping me,” I say.

“You look terrible,” she remarks, eyeing me.

Considering how I feel, I don’t take it personally, but I can’t resist a little light teasing. “You’re such a sweet talker.”

Her cheeks grow pink at my words. “I didn’t mean it like that.” She fluffs my pillows like a regular Florence fucking Nightingale, but I get the impression it’s more so she has something to do other than addressing the growing heat between us.

I snag her wrist as she gets close, and she sucks in a breath through her teeth. I can’t deny I’m enjoying the feeling of being taken care of—it’s been such a long time since anyone did that—but I want to take care of her. I want to get rid of that sadness that seems to be in her eyes all the time. I want to find out what she’s holding back from me and fix it.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to fuss,” I tell her.

“If you think you’re all right, you need your eyes tested,” she sasses.

It’s not attitude. She’s fucking scared.

That realisation doesn’t make me feel good. “You sound worried.”

Heidi snorts, pulling out of my grasp so she can pick up some of the discarded clothes I’d tossed on the floor earlier in the week. “Why would I be worried? You did this to yourself, which I still don’t fucking understand. Why would you let them beat you like this? Fucking men. I swear, there’s not a single brain cell between any one of you.”

“Heidi.” She stops gathering stuff, lifting her head to look at me. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” she says.

Before I can reply, a shrill cry pierces the air. Sophia. Fuck. I love you, kid, but your timing sucks.

Heidi opens her mouth as if she’s going to say something else but then drops the clothes into my hamper and goes to see to my daughter.

I sink back against the pillows, my gaze locked on the ceiling.

What the fuck am I doing?

Why do I have this need to comfort her, to keep her safe?

I don’t expect her to return, so I’m surprised when she’s standing in the doorway holding a squirming Sophia. I didn’t want my child to see me like this, but she doesn’t seem to notice the extensive bruising on my body.

I track Heidi as she moves over to the bed and positions Sophia next to me. She stands awkwardly at the side of the bed as I gather my daughter into my arms. Sophia grips my beard, and that familiar peace that I’m getting used to washes through me. “I didn’t want her to see me all fucked-up.”

“She won’t understand, and it’s good for you to spend time with her. You guys hang out. I’m going to have a shower and then make breakfast.”

I’m not ready for her to walk away. “Don’t go. Not yet.”

I don’t know if it’s because I look wrecked and pathetic, but she slowly lowers herself onto the edge of the bed. I close my eyes, holding my daughter against me.

“Talk to me.”

“About what?”

“Anything. Just… don’t rush off.”

“Okay. Um… Sophia has a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday.”

I don’t know how long the three of us stay on the bed, but it’s the most at peace I’ve felt in months. I sink into it, enjoying every second that passes. This feels like home, and for a while, home was an abstract concept I didn’t think I’d ever have again.

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