Page 85 of Beat of Love
The question took Rafferty by surprise. Just as Brandy-Lyn’s capitulation on his offer to keep an eye on her kids tonight had floored him.
But Olivia rushed on before he could formulate a response. “Youcame, Rafferty. You came when we needed you.” She dropped the pillow in the corner where the two parts of the couch connected, spun about, and rushed up the stairs.
Rafferty stared after her with unsettling bewilderment. His interactions with Brandy-Lyn’s kids were … effortless. They’d showed no sign of fear or suspicion or aversion or the guarded wariness he saw in his own nieces and nephews.
Just plain acceptance.
Now trust.
It floored him.
He dropped his chin to his chest, expelling the air from his lungs.
Light glinted off the horseshoe amulet dangling from the leather cord. A gift from the family who had burrowed beneath his defenses and found the sliver of decency still left in him. He closed a fist around the silver pendant, that fragment of morality warning him not to sully them with the darkness lurking within him.
“Um.” Preston cleared his throat, and Rafferty opened his fingers, the chunky metal dropping back to his chest.
He turned to the boy.
The boy who had trustedhim, Rafferty “Trick” Lawson, murderer and drug addict, with his innermost fears tonight. What a privilege.
“I’m gonna go to bed, too.”
Throat clogged with emotion, Rafferty merely nodded, and watched Preston move across the room.
At the start of the short hallway leading to his bedroom, Preston stopped and looked back. “You made tonight a little bit less scary for us. Thanks, dude.”
*
A distantwhooshdragged Rafferty from his jumbled sleep, his senses flickering to life, but they were unusually sluggish as he tried to place the sound. He opened his eyes and peered into the dark. He wasn’t in his bedroom, the shadows all wrong, the ceiling too high.
And the glow of light did not belong.
The events from last night tumbled back in.
He pushed upright and found the source of light. An open fridge.
And Amelia.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he whispered.
She whipped around, eyes wide. “S-sorry. I tried to be quiet.”
“That’s okay. Wasn’t sleeping so well myself,” he admitted, dragging the blanket from his body. He swung his legs to the floor and got to his feet. Straightening his rumpled T-shirt, glad now he had remained dressed, he ambled across the floor. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“Whatever got you out of bed at” — he peered at the microwave — “ten to four in the morning.” Considering they had only arrived home a little after one, he wondered if she had gotten any sleep at all.
She gave a huge sigh and closed the fridge, plunging the area into darkness. Her breath caught, and he reached for her, pulling her closer. She dropped her head to his chest, low sobs tearing through her as she fisted the material of his T-shirt.
“It wasn’t your fault, darlin’,” he said, guiding her to the couch. He gently nudged her down. “I know you’re feeling a lot right now, Mimi, but you need to take a breath and listen to me for a second. Yeah?” He reached behind her and flicked on the lamp, bathing them in a soft, warm light, and sat on the coffee table in front of her.
Sniffling, Amelia wiped at her eyes. “Mom’shurt, Raff. She’s in thehospitalbecause ofme. She’s gonna hate me. I know she will,” she wailed, burying her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t have swerved.”
His heart tore in two. Her self-blame was one he understood all too well. “Amelia, look at me.” He waited till she dropped her hands and lifted her eyes to his. “You didn’t hurt your mom on purpose. Accidents happen, Mimi-girl. You did what you thought was right in the moment.”
“But I could’ve just hit the brakes.”
