Page 48 of To Belong Together
This was ridiculous. Erin wasn’t a man, and he refused to treat her like one. He opened his arms, and she only left him hanging a moment before stepping against him, hesitantly accepting the hug.
He resisted cradling her head and instead kept his hold around her shoulders. Her hair brushed softly against his cheek, but she smelled of a harsh chemical—not gasoline, but equally flammable. “You’re going to be okay.”
There must be a way for him to ensure it.
She tucked her face against his shoulder, then slowly stepped back, stiff with what looked like embarrassment.
“You have some time?” he asked. “Want to take off?”
“I have to work.” She sucked in a sudden breath and blinked away the tears, but the tip of her nose remained pink. “I’m sorry. Busy day.” She pointed toward the shop with her thumb.
“Okay. Friday at eight.”
She nodded. “See you then.”
Two days. Two days to wonder what had happened, how he could help, and if he was trying to get too involved too fast.
16
At the chime of the doorbell, Trigger and Camo trotted to the entry and sat like loaded springs. John checked the window.
Tim waited on the stoop in a winter coat. The breeze kicked up the man’s thinning blond hair. Next to him stood a girl with a galaxy print backpack pulled over the shoulders of her pink jacket. Must be Tim’s daughter. Twelve? Or was she older? Tim didn’t have custody, rarely mentioned her, and hadn’t said she’d join him on this trip. John had gotten the impression that Tim hadn’t seen her himself in years, but he must have taken some initiative.
Good. She might distract Tim from John’s disinterest in returning to work.
He held up a hand, signaling the dogs to wait as he opened the door. They squirmed but obeyed as Tim ushered his daughter into the house. She stared at John’s face with the same awe and horror she might direct at a grizzly bear.
Fair enough. The doctor had removed his stitches a few hours before. The drops of blood that had seeped out had dried, accenting the Frankenstein-like line of the raw scar. The green-tinged bruises added to the effect.
As the dogs snagged her attention, her lips twitched up.
“You can say hello.” He lowered the staying hand.
Trigger and Camo sprang forward. After two seconds of sniffs, they covered the girl’s hands in kisses. She squealed and giggled, clenching her fingers into fists.
“You look awful.” Tim shut the door and unzipped his coat.
John could echo the observation.
The man seemed untouched by his daughter’s bubbling laughter. Deep-set purple underscored his eyes, and he had gained at least ten pounds since the tour’s end only months before.
Suspicion settled in like a headache. “Long trip to deliver a ring.”
“You didn’t think you could almost kill yourself without me coming to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m alive.” He turned to the girl, who gave both dogs belly rubs. “Who’s this?”
“Issy, say hi to John.”
She straightened, a frown flipping her lips as quickly as the dogs flipped back to their feet. “Isabella.” She glared at her father.
Tim pointed her toward John.
The anger melted to acceptance. “I’m Isabella Dubois.”
“John.” Surely last names weren’t necessary.
She stared him down as if he’d forgotten something.
