Page 43 of The Secrets We Built Together

"Xander..." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"This is complicated enough," I said, forcing myself to let go of her wrist. "My recovery... Amelia... I don't want to mess this up."

The truth was, I was terrified. Not of wanting her—that ship had sailed the moment she'd stormed into my life. I was terrified of what happened after. Of not being strong enough to be what she needed. What Amelia needed.

Blake nodded, disappointment and relief warring in her expression. "You're right. We're just getting our footing here. This arrangement... it's too important to complicate."

"Exactly."

She took a step back, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear. "I'll, um... I'll go take that shower then."

I watched her disappear down the hall, then dropped my head into my hands.

The irony wasn't lost on me. For the first time in my adult life, I was choosing the responsible path. The right path. And it was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

I stood and headed toward Amelia's room, needing the distraction of the baby's simple needs.

Because the truth I couldn't admit to Blake—or maybe even to myself—was that now that I'd seen how close we could come to crossing that line, I wasn't sure how long I could keep pretending that this was just an arrangement.

Or that my heart wasn't already completely, terrifyingly involved.

Chapter 17

Blake

The hot water cascaded over my shoulders, washing away the day's exhaustion, but not the memory of what had almost happened.

I pressed my forehead against the cool tile of the shower wall, letting the steam envelope me. I needed this barrier between us. This moment to clear my head. To remind myself why complicated feelings had no place in our arrangement.

When Xander had caught my wrist, when his thumb had brushed over my pulse point and his eyes had darkened with something that made my stomach flip, it didn't feel like part of our agreement.

It felt like something we'd been dancing around since the moment he showed up at Delaney's door.

"This is complicated enough," he'd said, his voice rough with restraint. "My recovery... Amelia... I don't want to mess this up."

The words echoed in my head as I let the water run down my back. He was right. Of course he was right. There was too muchat stake to complicate things with... whatever this was between us.

I turned off the shower and wrapped myself in a towel, wiping condensation from the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, cheeks flushed from the heat, hair darkened to a deeper pink. I looked different somehow. Like something had shifted, even though nothing had actually happened.

Nothing except that moment on the couch, when his eyes had dropped to my lips and I'd leaned in without thinking, but then the baby monitor had crackled, and the moment had shattered.

I dressed quickly in clean pajama shorts and an old T-shirt, trying not to think about what might have happened if Amelia hadn't woken up. If Xander hadn't pulled back when he did. If I hadn't been so desperate for his touch that I'd nearly forgotten all the reasons why this was such a bad idea.

I towel-dried my hair, listening for Amelia. It was quiet now. Xander must have gotten her back to sleep. I pictured him standing over her crib, his steady hands adjusting her blanket, his low voice soothing her. He was good with her. Natural in a way I was still learning to be.

That thought sent a flutter through my chest that had nothing to do with our arrangement and everything to do with watching a man I was increasingly attracted to care for a baby I was determined to protect. It was a dangerous combination.

I stepped out of the bathroom, the cottage eerily quiet after the white noise of the shower. Steam followed me into the hallway as I padded toward the living room, wondering if Xander had gone to bed already.

He was still on the couch, head tilted back, eyes closed. For a second, I thought he might be asleep, but then his eyes opened, finding mine immediately like he'd sensed me standing there.

"Hey," he said, his voice rough around the edges. "Feel better?"

I nodded, suddenly awkward in a way I hadn't been before. "Thanks for checking on Amelia."

"She was just fussing. Didn't even need to pick her up."

I hovered there, unsure if I should join him or retreat to my room. The moment on the couch hung between us, unacknowledged but impossible to ignore.

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