Page 64 of Just Like That

My hand splayed across her ribs as she scrambled to remain upright. My fingertips landed under the hemline of her crop top, nestling into the grooves of her rib cage. Her skin was soft and warm as I pulled her closer.

Her body was flush with mine. “Be careful,” I repeated, softer this time. “Please.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and I stared at her mouth. It would be so easy to be lost in the moment with her. All it would take was the tiniest movement and my mouth could be on hers again.

The perfect distraction.

She cleared her throat and the moment dissipated. I stepped away from her, wiping my hand against my thigh and trying to forget how right she felt in my arms.

“I’m tired.” Teddy’s whine made the last word stretch on as he trudged toward us, effectively snapping me back to reality.

I crouched in front of him. “Legs are beat?” He nodded, so I gestured with my head. “All right, hop on.”

Teddy’s not-very-tired-looking eyes lit up. “Really?” He scrambled onto my back before I could answer.

I stood and hiked him higher to make sure he was secure. “Better?”

Teddy grinned and nodded. My attention landed on Hazel, who was staring up at me with a strange look on her face.

I frowned, taking in her reddened cheeks. “Are you tired too? Your face is all flushed.”

She swallowed and shook her head.

I tapped Teddy’s leg, needing an excuse to create some space between her and me. “Let’s go see what we can find over that way.”

The campfire crackledas I stared into the flames. Crickets chirped and owls hooted as nighttime fell in a blanket of stars around us. I had been pathetically helpless when it came to building a campfire. I knew the basics, but Hazel called the shots. Teddy and I gathered the supplies—larger sticks and fallen branches—as she worked. She then taught Teddy how to build a log cabin structure with sticks, starting with tinder, then kindling.

Hazel poked the roaring campfire with a stick to shift a log and smiled proudly. Across the fire, I watched as Teddy leaned into Hazel, and a smear of dirt-caked marshmallow streaked across his cheek. He looked more like a seven-year-old kid than he ever had.

I was busy explaining the key differences between mergers and acquisitions, like he’d asked. His eyes were drooping, and I let my speech quietly trail off as he fought sleep.

It was sad to admit that I’d never been camping, especially given the beautiful landscape that surrounded my hometown. When I was growing up, Dad had zero interest in actually parenting, and Aunt Bug had done the best she could to raise six kids from a distance. Even if she had offered to take us camping or on a vacation, there wasn’t a world in which my father would have let us have that moment with her.

Teddy wouldn’t have to experience that—at least not with me around. Sure, I didn’t know anything about nature or camping, but that was what Hazel was for. Between the two of us, Teddy could have experiences all kids should have.

That is, if youarehis dad.

My heart thumped. Somewhere along the line, I had started to forget the very real possibility that Teddy wasn’t my kid. I swallowed hard and ignored the coil in my stomach.

Hazel hummed as she looked at the fire and poked at it. Light flickered across her features, creating sharp contrasts where her cheekbones stood out.

My mind buzzed, and despite the peaceful nature around us, I couldn’t wind down. I wiped my palms across my jeans and looked across the fire at Hazel as Teddy snoozed on her shoulder.

I frowned. “So you just ... sit here?”

Hazel grinned. “Yeah ... I sit here and breathe.” She tipped her face to the moon and inhaled deeply. “Isn’t it great?”

I harrumphed. It was too quiet. Too easy to let my mind wander to what-ifs.

What if everything falls apart and Dad gets away with it?

What if Teddy is my kid?

What if he isn’t?

What if I’d met Hazel first?

What if that didn’t actually matter after all?

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