Page 16 of Bringing Home the Bad Boy

He pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Careful what you offer, sunshine. I might never leave."

The thought makes me smile against his skin. "Every day," I promise again, and his arms tighten around me in response.

Chapter 8

Itry gauging Noel's face when we arrive at my house. It’s not fancy like the homes on Barkley land, but it’s solid. A place where a kid can grow up feeling safe. Like they belong somewhere.“Ready?” I ask, reaching for her hand.

She nods, but her smile is shaky. This isn’t just meeting my daughter—this is stepping into my whole life—the life I built without her.Inside, Rosa and Jelena are in the kitchen. My girl’s sitting at the counter, coloring with the focused determination only a four-year-old can muster. Rosa looks up from where she’s chopping vegetables, her expression carefully neutral.

“Noel, this is Rosalee.” I make the introduction. “And you remember Jelena.”

Jelena peeks up from her artwork, more shy now than she was at the tree farm. “Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Noel says softly, and something in my chest tightens at the gentleness in her voice.

“Rosa’s been with us since Jelena was two,” I explain, moving to the coffee maker. Keeping my hands busy helps with theawkwardness. “She was friends with Marisol, and her husband Trick was one of my closest friends in the club.”

“Was?” Noel asks quietly.

“Trick died a year before he adopted Jelena,” Rosa answers, her knife stilling on the cutting board. “After that… well, sometimes family isn’t about blood.”

I watch the understanding dawn on Noel’s face. We’re all carrying losses, all trying to build something new from the pieces left behind.

“Daddy!” Jelena’s voice breaks through the heavy moment. “You promised snowman.”

“Did I?” I scratch my chin and feign ignorance before I turn to Noel. “Want to help us build the world’s best snowman?”entire face

Her smile lights up her face. “I’d love to.”

Outside, the December air bites at our cheeks as we roll increasingly larger balls of snow. Jelena runs around us, collecting sticks for arms and rocks for buttons. When she slips on an icy patch, Noel and I reach for her at the same time. She giggles as we catch her, and for a moment, it feels like we’ve been doing this forever.

“He needs a hat,” Jelena declares once the snowman is assembled. “And a carrot nose!”

“I’ll get them,” Rosa calls from the porch where she’s been watching us. When she returns, she’s carrying not just a hat and carrot but also a scarf that she artistically wraps around our creation’s neck.

“Perfect!” Jelena claps her mittened hands. “Can we have hot chocolate now?”

Back inside, Rosa serves her special hot chocolate—the kind with real melted chocolate and a hint of cinnamon—along with grilled cheese sandwiches. Jelena insists on sitting between Noel and me, chattering about her snowman and showing off herearlier artwork.I watch them together, these women who mean everything to me. Rosa, who’s been my rock through the hardest years of my life. Jelena, who saved me without even knowing it. And Noel, who’s looking at my daughter like she’s something precious.

When Jelena starts yawning between bites, Rosa stands. “Nap time, little miss.”

“But I’m not tired,” Jelena protests, even as she rubs her eyes.

“How about I read you a story?” Noel offers, surprising all of us.

Jelena’s face lights up. “Can she, Daddy? Please?”

I nod, my throat suddenly tight. When they head upstairs together, Rosa catches my eye.

“She's good with her,” she says quietly.

“Yeah,” I agree, watching them disappear up the stairs. “She does.”

As they head upstairs together, Rosa catches my eye.

Rosa leans against the counter, giving me that shrewd look I’ve come to know so well. “Is this why you were so insistent on Bear Ridge? Of all the small towns in the middle of nowhere, you had to have this one?”

I busy myself with rinsing dishes, but Rosa’s never needed words to read me.Then,

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