Page 21 of The Secrets We Built Together

"Bathroom's just through there if you want to clean up," Trace offered, gesturing to an adjoining door. "Take your time."

I nodded my thanks as he left the room. The moment the door closed behind him, I let out a long breath I hadn't realized I was holding. This was getting complicated. Every minute I stayed in this house, around Blake and that baby, was another minute I risked getting attached. And attachment wasn't something I could afford right now.

I stepped into the attached bathroom, tossed my ruined shirt into the sink, and turned on the tap. The cool water felt good against my hands as I scrubbed at my chest, removing the sticky residue of baby spit-up. I stared at my reflection in the mirror above the sink.

"Pull it together," I muttered to myself.

After drying off with a hand towel, I walked back into the bedroom and reached for the clean shirt Trace had left. Just as I was about to put it on, the bedroom door opened.

"Trace, I was wondering if I could—" Blake's voice cut off abruptly.

I turned, shirt still in my hands, to find her frozen in the doorway. Her eyes widened, darting from my face to my bare chest and back again. The look in her eyes shifted from surprise to something else entirely, something that made my pulse quicken despite my best efforts to remain detached.

For a moment, neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke. The air between us felt charged with electricity.

Blake's cheeks flushed a deep pink as she pulled her gaze away. "I—I'm sorry. I thought Trace was in here." Her voicewas breathier than usual. "I was going to ask about some baby supplies. Delaney said…"

I should have immediately pulled the shirt on. I should have made some casual joke to diffuse the tension. Instead, I stood there, letting her look, because some reckless part of me wanted her to see me. Wanted her to want me, even though I knew I should be running in the opposite direction.

"I think he went back downstairs," I finally said, my voice rougher than I intended.

Blake tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, a gesture I'd noticed she did when she was uncertain. Her eyes met mine again, and there it was—a flicker of interest that mirrored the warmth spreading through my chest.

"I should..." she gestured vaguely over her shoulder, taking a half-step backward.

"Yeah," I agreed, finally pulling the borrowed shirt over my head. The fabric felt too tight, too restrictive. Or maybe that was just the pressure building in my chest. "I should finish up here."

She nodded, but didn't immediately leave. "Thank you again. For helping with Amelia."

"Amelia?" I asked.

"The baby," Blake clarified, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "That's what Madison called her in the letter."

"It's a good name," I said, for lack of anything better.

"It is," she agreed softly.

Another beat passed between us, heavy with things neither of us was ready to say.

"I should go check on her," Blake finally said, breaking the moment. "Delaney's watching her, but she seems to settle better when I'm holding her."

"She knows you already," I observed. "Babies are intuitive that way."

Blake's eyes brightened. "You think so?"

I nodded, finding myself moving a step closer to her without conscious thought. "You're good with her. Better than you give yourself credit for."

"I don't know about that," she admitted, tucking that same strand of hair behind her ear again. "But I'm trying."

"That's all any of us can do," I said quietly.

For a moment, we stood there in the doorway, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of her perfume—something light and floral that made me want to lean in closer. Our eyes locked, and I felt that pull again, stronger than before. Blake bit her lower lip, and my gaze dropped to her mouth before I could stop myself.

A cry from the living room broke the spell between us.

"That's Amelia," Blake said, stepping back fully into the hallway. "I should go."

"Yeah," I agreed, though everything in me wanted to reach out and stop her. "I'll be right out."

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