Page 87 of Caught from Behind

I keep waiting for him to speak, to press, to demand.

But…that’s not Riggs.

This quiet, patient man is content to sit here in the cold with me, to watch the sky darken, to feel the temperature drop, to witness the stars overhead turning into beautiful, untouchable crystals in the sky.

“We used to do this, you know?” I find myself saying.

Silence for a long moment, and then Riggs tightens his arms around me. “Who’s we, chérie?” he asks gently.

“My mom and dad and I,” I whisper.

His draws me closer, wraps me even tighter in the warmth of him. “Tell me.”

I close my eyes, remembering. “Knox was busy a lot with hockey, always traveling, always at the rink for games or practice, but sometimes my parents would wake me up when it was dark outside and we would climb onto the roof. My dad would wrap me in a big blanket and my mom would show me all of the constellations, telling me the stories behind them and—” I sigh. “My dad would always bring a thermos of hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows and a Snickers bar because that was my favorite.” My eyes burn again. “We ate pretty healthy as a family. There weren’t really any bad foods or things we couldn’t have, but at night? After I’d brushed my teeth and we had dinner and dessert and Knox was in bed? That candy bar and cup of cocoa seemed like the most decadent of treats.”

I haven’t been able to eat one since.

Riggs smooths a hand over my head, gently running his fingers through my hair, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t interrupt, just lets me talk.

“When my mom was pregnant, we skipped the roof, but we’d still bundle up on the back porch and look at the stars and catch up on all of the things that were going on with me.” I close my eyes. “It was my special time, and I didn’t get a lot of that.”

“Chérie,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my jaw. “I’m sorry you didn’t get that.”

“I don’t resent Knox,” I say quickly, “and he would be the first to admit that him being so good at hockey meant that sometimes my stuff was a second thought.”

“Baby,” he murmurs.

“It wasn’t his fault,” I add. “When he was home, he was the best big brother ever and…after—” Tears blur my vision. “Well, he was there for me. He’s always been there for me. And truly, I didn’t need them as much. I’ve always liked being on my own, free to do my own thing?—”

I pause as something occurs to me.

Another kiss to my jaw. “What?”

“I was just…I guess I was just wondering if I’ve always been independent and free because that’s my personality…or if it’s because of who I had to be. Because I only had those small moments of acknowledgment. Because I was alone so much.” My nails bite into my palms. “Like maybe because my parents couldn’t be what I needed the rest of the time, I had to…I don’t know, figure out a way to be okay with the parts they could give me.”

My heart is thudding at the realization, but I recognize something else, recognize that he’s gone statue still.

I turn in his arms. “What, honey?”

An exhale that teases across my lips and then he touches my cheek. “I—” A shake of his head. “It’s just that I know exactly what you’re saying.”

“Honey,” I whisper. “I’m sorry that your dad wasn’t?—”

“I know you are.” He turns my head so he can press his lips to mine. “You’re pretty fucking smart, you know that, right?”

Finally, a glimmer of something that’s not self-loathing or pity or worry or guilt curls through my stomach.

Seizing it, I blow on my knuckles, buff them on my shoulder, desperate to make him smile. “Yeah,” I say lightly, “I do know that.”

A chuckle. “Adler ego?”

I settle my forehead against his. “Ella ego.”

His mouth curves.

But the lightness in my belly disappears the next instant.

Because he wasn’t smiling last night.

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