Page 83 of Even if It Hurts

“You have a boyfriend.”

“Had.”

“Had,” I agreed as I shifted both of my hands so I was cradling her neck, then brushed a ghost of a kiss across her lips before reminding both of us, “You work for me.”

“I don’t care.”

She’d barely gotten the words out before I captured her lips in a kiss that was nothing less than a claim and a vow.

Slow but powerful. Gentle but filled with months of longing.

And I knew in the way it felt like it would never be enough that there was no going back from this.

“I said ‘no’ because of you,” she whispered through the kiss.

“What?”

Her eyelids slowly lifted, giving me a glimpse of that storm I’d just been talking about. “Jackson...I wasn’t in love with him anymore,” she said with a subtle nod. “I think my heart forgot his name when a stranger kissed me and berated me for not being observant.”

The corner of my mouth twitched with amusement. “So, that’s what does it for you...strangers berating you?”

A contemplative hum sounded in her throat and vibrated against my hands. “Only if they buy me coffee first.”

My chest pitched with a breathless laugh, but my tone was low and solemn when I said, “I probably should, but I can’t bring myself to apologize for being the reason you stopped loving someone else.”

“Then don’t.”

Just before my lips met hers again, a shrill cry echoed down the hall and poured into the living room.

Seconds passed as we stared at each other, barely a breath apart, before Lainey broke the building tension, whispering, “That didn’t last long.”

“Her interrupting?”

A soft laugh left her as she pushed me away. “Sleeping,” Lainey chastised as she stood. “I just got her to sleep before you came back.”

I curled my arm around her waist, stopping her from leaving and bringing her back to me. “I’ve got her.”

Her brows lifted in surprised amusement. “This is literally what you pay me for.”

“Not sure I can ethically have you on the clock right now.”

“Then don’t,” she said with an unbothered shrug as she slipped away. But the small smile she sent over her shoulder had me following her toward the sound of Kaia’s cries.

“Did she ever calm down for you?” I asked as we rounded the corner of the hall.

Lainey’s shoulders jerked with a muted laugh. “When she finally fell asleep.”

An acknowledging sound crept up my throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she said, twisting a little to meet my eyes. “It happens.”

I was aware. And I knew exactly how much it grated on every last nerve.

Then again, it was possible my frustration was made worse because every cry only fueled my worries that I shouldn’t be the person taking care of Kaia.

Not when I’d failed to keep her parents alive. Not when I still struggled to look at those big, dark eyes and see anything other than my brother. Not when I was sure I’d inevitably bring danger to our door.

I settled against the doorframe of Kaia’s room, arms folded over my chest as I watched Lainey. Every movement so effortless as she scooped up Kaia and curled my screaming niece close to her chest.

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