Page 113 of Single Dad Dilemma
Planted in front of me, as I wept in his arms, was nothing more than my own fear. It stood dizzyingly tall. Thick as a redwood. Impenetrable for the last ten years, four months, and six days.
To climb it, to destroy it, I had to trust more than just him.
Trusting Barrett was effortless. Trusting myself was a little more difficult.
He held me like I was precious, like he wanted to absorb my tears. When they started to ebb, my throat raw and my nose almost completely plugged, he reached over to get a tissue off the nightstand.
I took it wordlessly, wiping underneath my eyes and discreetly blowing my nose. In the dark room, it was hard to make out his features, but what I saw was heartbreak in the bentVof his eyebrows and the serious set to his mouth. I kept the tissue balled up in my hand, tucking it between his chest and mine where we were pressed together, and eventually felt my pulse settle.
Barrett’s big hands never stopped their soothing motion. Up and down, up and down, until my muscles relaxed and my breathing steadied.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered once more against my temple. Tears welled again, and I closed my eyes to keep them from falling. “You’re safe.”
Instead of letting myself drown in embarrassment or shame or worry about how I’d explain this with the rising of the sun, I simply snuggled closer to the broad heat of his chest.
Barrett sighed, his arms tightening around my back. “I’m not going anywhere.”
As sleep claimed me, exhaustion pulling on my body and my heart expanding with the relief of this sweet moment, I decided to believe him.
I woke before Barrett, our position similar to how we’d fallen asleep. We were facing each other, his arm still underneath my neck, the other slung over my waist, fingers dangling over my lower back. His shoulders rose and fell on deep, even breaths. Under the covers, one of my bare legs was tucked between his.
The light in the room was weak and gray, filtered through the edges of the curtains that didn’t quite cover the windows. But it was enough to study the handsome angles of his face. The straight, proud nose; the lines of his lips; the hard edge to his jaw—dark now with stubble, lending a dangerous air to his already attractive features.
Everything about him made my heart hurt, and I didn’t have much time to figure out what to do with that. Less now, as he began to wake. His eyes didn’t open right away, but he attempted to stretch his shoulder where it lay underneath my neck.
His patience with me defied anything I’d ever known, and as I waited breathlessly for him to wake, to take stock of the intimate way we’d slept, I felt an undeniable urge to give him something in return.
I didn’t want to make him work so hard. Didn’t want him to feel like he had to beg for scraps of what my life looked like. More thanthat, even, I didn’t want to make him ask something that he was afraid to ask. Afraid to upset me or push too hard.
The truth was, I was the one who’d enforced that invisible line. Erected boundaries that neither of us had ever named. And he’d respected every single one. Even when I didn’t make it easy.
Barrett’s eyes finally opened, his gaze on mine and a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“Morning,” he said, and the rough scrape of his voice lifted the hair on my arms.
“Thank you.” I didn’t want anything else said before that. “Thank you for staying.”
He adjusted his head on the pillow but didn’t move to take his arm back. There was no way it wasn’t numb as hell. Slowly, he curled it up, easing a hand over my shoulder and upper arm.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, studying my face carefully.
I didn’t even really want to think about what I might look like. A cry-headache bloomed behind my sinuses, and I could only imagine how big the bags under my eyes were.
I nodded, absently playing with the T-shirt covering his chest. He couldn’t have known the way anxiety tightened an invisible screw in the center of my heart, or how my body braced for impact as I tried to unearth my nerve.
“It’s early,” he continued. “If you want to go back to sleep, I can get up.”
My hands tightened in his shirt, anchoring him in place, and his brow furrowed as he studied me with a million questions in his eyes.
I licked my lips.
“The tattoo beneath my collarbone,” I said quietly. “You touched it last night.” Slowly, Barrett nodded. “It’s ... it’s three stars.” I tugged the neckline of my shirt so he could see it. “It’s for my family.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, dropping his gaze to my exposed skin. His thumb brushed over it. That gentle brush of his calloused finger solidified my resolve, made it easier to find my voice.
“The biggest star is for my dad. His name was Robert. He liked fixing cars and spending time in his garage. He was always trying to teach me things. Even if I didn’t want to learn, he was so patient.” A tear slipped out of the corner of my eye, and Barrett brushed it away.
“The second star is for my mom. Kathleen. She was always in the kitchen. She and I used to butt heads all the time,” I said, my voice trembling now. “But she’s the reason I know how to bake. That’s how she showed her love to people. Even when she was upset at me because I didn’t want to live in a small town like they did. When all I could talk about was leaving and traveling and seeing the world. She’d make me a plate of my favorite cookies, and they always made me feel better. She never tried to change me, never made me feel bad for the way I was.”
