Page 25 of Wild Eyes
My brow rumples as I take her in. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.” I take on the softest tone I can so as not to startle anybody. “It’s not a big deal, it’s just a glass. Not even crystal, because we’re not that fancy. Perfectly replaceable. Most importantly, is everyone all right?”
I walk through the kitchen until I reach my daughter and scoop her up off the countertop.
Glass crunches beneath my boots as I carry her to the back door. Then I swat her playfully on the butt. “Back outside, where animals like you belong. And can you please go ask your brother to turn the barbecue off?”
She nods as she says, “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
I almost laugh. She only pulls out thedaddycardwhen she’s in trouble or wants something.
“You better be,” I fire back with a wink. She grins at me, and I shoo her outside. “Quick, before the burgers burn.”
When I turn, Skylar is still staring at me. Her face is devoid of any color. I quirk my head at her, attempting to figure out why this grown woman looks so traumatized over a broken glass. “Skylar, are you okay?”
She nods woodenly. “Yeah. Yeah.” Her voice comes out creaky.
“Want me to carry you out of here too?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood.
Her responding laugh is thin. “No.” She glances around her. She left her shoes at the front door. “No, I’m okay.” She says the words but still makes no move to get up. Crossing a room littered in glass shards with bare feet will be a challenge.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let her do that. I was enjoying watching her climb and listening to her talk. She’s funny.”
I nod. “Yeah, she’s funny all right.”
Skylar swallows and lowers her gaze to her hands, fiddling with her fingers like she’s been sent to the principal’s office. “Please don’t be mad at her.”
My head tilts. “Why would I be mad at her? It’s just glass. I’ll clean it up. No big deal. She’s a little kid. Little kids make mistakes.” Skylar nods but doesn’t glance up at me. “Shit, adults make mistakes too. God knows I have.”
“Same,” she whispers.
And I can’t fucking stand how sad she looks.
“Okay, that’s it, fancy face.” I take two long steps toward her, and her chin shoots up, eyes widening when she realizes I’ve closed the distance between us.
“What are you?—”
I cut her off when I reach for her. I barely know this woman, and I don’t know what I’m doing. But have I ever really known what I’m doing? I’ve spent my entire life ruled by impulses and instincts. So why would I stop now?
She squeals when my arms slide beneath her knees and around her waist, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, her arms reach up and circle my neck as I straighten my legs to stand.
“West!”
“What?”
“Put me down!”
“No. I don’t think I will. That’s too much sad face for one day.”
A disbelieving laugh lurches from her throat as she tips her face up to stare at me.
Meeting her eyes feels like it might be too personal, so I choose to whisper gruffly against her ear, “And I won’t stand for it.”
She shivers and presses closer as I fold her against my chest and forge ahead, over the sea of glass. I march outside to the sound of Skylar’s shocked giggles, Emmy’s loud bark of laughter, and my son’s embarrassed groan.
I feel her fingers grip the back of my neck and the rush of her breath against my throat, but I don’t put her down, not even when she gasps as I take the few steps off the deck.
Only when my boots hit the grass do I finally let her go.
Her bare feet land lightly on the ground, and her hands stay linked behind my neck for a beat before she slides them down over my shoulders.
