Page 26 of Wanting a Family Man

“I do,” she admitted, feeling as though her voice was scraped off the inside of her chest.

“Being raised by Tiffany and Dad would have been the ideal.”

The way he kind of cut off the last word made her glance up at him. He was frowning pensively.

“Tiffany, anyway,” he allowed. “Dad was the furthest thing from perfect.” He crossed his arms again, giving her the impression he wasn’t as unperturbable as he always seemed. “Our relationship with him was pretty fractured. We all knew he’d had a baby with a woman who was way too young for him,” he added dourly. “None of us had seen Storm so it hadn’t computed for any of us that we had a sister. The day after the crash, we walked in for a reading of the will and the ministry basically said, ‘If you don’t look after this kid, we’ll put her in foster care.’”

“Foster care isn’t always bad,” she murmured, since it had given her the most stability she’d ever known.

“I know. But it wasn’t something we could justify when we’re all able-bodied and capable of supporting a baby. Emma wanted more for her than that, though. She was pure mama bear, fighting to be sure Storm would be cared for. Not just a roof and a dry bum, butloved. We were in shock. Not just from losing Dad. This place was bleeding red ink. We could see what had to be done to right the ship, but a baby?” He gave his face a swipe with his palm and swore under his breath.

Cloe was starting to be really glad that Storm had had Emma in her corner.

“I know it looks like Reid and Emma are a green card marriage, but that’s not what it is. He proposed to her sooner than he might have if he hadn’t felt the need to speed up the process of her becoming Storm’s mom, but they’re really good together. Emma needed someone she can count on, and Reid’s heart has grown three sizes since she’s been in his life.” Trystan’s mouth twisted with wry amusement.

“I only suggested you might have taken her because you seem really natural with her.”

“Yeah, I’d kill or die for that little marmot, but having kids wasn’t on my radar. I’m even more reluctant now.”

“Really?” That surprised her.

“You look like my aunties,” he said with a pained frown. “‘You’d be a good father, Trystan. Why aren’t you married and making babies?’ I can’t justify that, either.” He shrugged. “I’m away all the time. My work is dangerous and kids are a huge responsibility. They’re a worry. You think you know what it means to be concerned about someone, then you stay up three nights in a row with a baby because she’s teething. She wouldn’t eat. It was awful. Humbling.”

Cloe didn’t imagine he was used to feeling helpless.

“It’s a deeper worry, too. If I hear Biyen’s down with the flu, I’m calling Sophie every day to check on him, but with Storm, I’m scared. I don’t relax until I know she’s on the mend. I’m not in a hurry to feel that way about my own kids.”

Was he making a point of spelling that out to her so she wouldn’t get any ideas? Good news. She was equally daunted by the idea of having kids.

On the other hand, “I hadn’t even seen Storm until today, and I’ve felt sick with worry since Tiff died.” It was all catching up with her again. She could feel herself growing emotional. “I’m going to take this to bed and read it before I go to sleep. Is that okay?”

“I dare you to stay awake long enough to get through it, but sure. Give it a whirl,” he drawled. “Sweet dreams.”

She hugged it to her chest, waved once, then took refuge in her bunk.

Chapter Eight

Trystan heard Cloestir while he was still in his bunk. He wasn’t sure if she rose early because she’d gone to bed early or because he’d told her his shift with Storm started at seven.

He hadn’t slept well at all. He’d been tossing and turning, restless and way too aware that he wasn’t alone on the boat.

He kept replaying their chat, too, disturbed by all the odd angles it had skewed into.

Have you heard the termparasocial relationship?

Yeah. He was well acquainted with superfans who thought he was in the market for a new best friend. That mindset might explain why she was sharing herself so openly with him and asking him personal questions, but it didn’t account for his intense interest in everything she told him. It didn’t account for his willingness to answer her.

Foster care isn’t always bad, she’d said, and he’d wanted to ask her why she said it with such melancholy.

The kicker had been that finalI hadn’t even seen Storm until today, and I’ve felt sick with worry since Tiff died.

That statement still arrested him. Since his return to Raven’s Cove, he’d been putting his shoulder to the wheel, but always with the knowledge that he would soon head into the bush and all of this would fall away again.

That’s why he made a living doing what he did. When his focus narrowed to covering his basic needs, he didn’t have to think about his father or what he might owe him. He didn’t have to think about whether he should reach out to his brothers. If they wanted to hear from him, they knew how to get hold of him, right?

His work was an escape from picking at old scabs. Things that shouldn’t still be tender but were.

What Cloe had made him realize, however, was that once he left Storm, he would feel it. It wouldn’t be like leaving his mother, who had a husband and stepchildren and a community around her, or his father, who had been woven into the fabric of this community, or his brothers, who were grown adults and capable of looking after themselves. Even Sophie, who had always carried a lot, was someone who could find her way forward without him.

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