Page 122 of Your Soul to Keep

I could do this.

“Thank you.”

33

I Can’t

Wedrovehomeasnight spread its velvet across the sky, its stars winking into sight. Evidenced by the sleepy toddler in the back seat, being the life of the party was hard work.

“The fireflies are out,” I commented. The night was magical, only made more so by the man squeezing my hand beside me.

If Dylan stayed asleep, we could build a fire in the pit in the backyard.

I could tell him I was ready to move in with him.

“She enjoyed herself today,” I murmured quietly.

Gabe smiled, his capable hands steering us toward home.

Home.

Gabe was my home. And he was ready for that next step. Despite the lingering fear fate could snatch it away at any moment, I wanted it too.

As for Dylan? I loved her.

Irrevocably.

Having her didn’t negate the loss of my other children, but she turned the page upon which I could write a new story.

Different from the one I had planned, but still good.

Slowing down to a crawl in order not to bump Dylan awake, Gabe turned into the driveway.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to waste another moment apart. I took a deep breath and braced myself to take the fall. I turned to Gabe. “I’m read—"

Gabe narrowed his gaze as his jaw clamped tight.

Following the line of his vision, I saw Zoe standing on his front porch with a suitcase, gift bags at her feet.

My heart dropped to my feet. “What’sshedoing here?” I whispered, then gave my head a hard shake.

Of course, she was here. My stomach sank. It washerdaughter’s birthday. Where else would she be?

Gabe threw the truck into park. Glancing at me briefly, he muttered, “Can you please get Dylan out of her seat? I need a fucking minute.”

He stalked across the yard while I opened the door and swung my legs out of the truck.

Gabe said Zoe usually called. That she only came a couple of times a year. My heart thudded wildly in my chest. I knew what she was here for.

With my hands shaking, I pushed the button to release the safety belt on Dylan’s car seat.

Easing her out of her seat, I laid her against my chest and held her close.

I closed my eyes.

Breathed her in.

Her little head drooped sleepily on my shoulder, her arms hanging limp. How must it be to trust someone so implicitly?

---