Page 59 of Halfway to Hell
Then she turned to Sunday, wrapping her in a warm hug. She kissed her on the temple before pulling back.
“Be patient with him,” she said softly. “And listen to what he tells you.”
Sunday nodded, watching Kathryn disappear through the kitchen doorway. A moment later, Cree and Kennedy called outfrom the front of the house. “We’re grabbing our stuff. See you in the morning!”
Sunday called back, “See you at breakfast!”
As their voices faded, she turned to Texas. The house had fallen quiet again, the kind of quiet that made it clear—they needed to talk. And not standing in the kitchen.
They needed the comfort of soft light and warm water, a space where words could come a little easier. She knew the perfect place.
Sunday sighed softly as Texas lowered himself into the tub, settling against the wall and pulling her close.
Her fingers traced slow circles over his calf, and she let her gaze linger on him. How beautiful he was—strong, rough-edged, and somehow utterly gentle when it mattered most.
She loved him. More than she’d ever thought possible.
They stayed wrapped around each other, the quiet between them filled only by the occasional drip of the faucet. But beneath the calm, her heart hammered with anxiety.
When is he going to say something?“Texas?” she whispered.
“Hmmm,” he murmured in response.
“Were we… going to talk?”
The silence stretched, each second heavier than the last.
One… two…
Fear twisted tighter in her chest as she waited for him to break the stillness.
The silence grew heavier as the water cooled around them.
Sunday eased out of the tub, shivering slightly, and Texas stepped out right behind her. Without a word, he grabbed a towel and gently wrapped it around her shoulders.
She shivered again, and he pulled the towel tighter, then reached for another to dry himself off.
Texas felt the weight of the growing silence pressing between them. He knew he was dodging the inevitable—the conversation he’d been dreading.
How could he find the right words to tell her about his daughter? Words stuck somewhere deep inside, refusing to come out.
Once dry, he wrapped the towel securely around his waist and glanced at her. “You dried off?” he asked quietly.
“Um, yeah. I’m looking for my sleep shirt.”
Texas smirked, stepping closer. “You mean my shirt.”
She grinned softly. “You gave it to me.”
“Did I?” Texas teased, stalking toward her with a playful grin.
Sunday stepped backward, laughing nervously, trying to slip past him and out of the bathroom.
But he moved faster.
Before she knew it, he caught her around the waist, pulling her close. Her laughter bubbled up, warm and light against his chest.
He kissed her shoulder softly and then stepped back. “Go get ready for bed,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. As muchas he wanted her beside him, skin against skin, he knew—they needed to talk first.
