Chapter 177
I close Sierra’s door behind me, but the truth of her words sticks to me like smoke.
I don’t want to be involved with the baby, but she shouldn’t be worrying about any of this. She should be resting, healing, and focusing on staying healthy, not drowning in stress because of my mess, my inability to control the shitstorm in this house.
I remember when Chloe was pregnant. She was always exhausted. It has to be the same for Sierra. Maybe it’s worse because she’s doing it alone. With me making everything ten times harder. She wants to keep this baby. Fine, but she needs an environment that won’t destroy her in the process. 1
I drag in a breath and close my eyes for a second before forcing them open again. My gaze drops to my hands. They’re still clenched.
My palms are still warm from where I’d grabbed her wrists, stopping her from packing. It’s Stupid. I shouldn’t have touched her. It’s even stupider that part of me, a traitorous part, didn’t want to let go.
I push away from the door and head down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. My chest feels tight, and I have no idea if it’s anger at Brook, at myself, or at the entire fucked–up situation I’ve cornered us into… Maybe it’s all of it.
I’ll admit I didn’t think things through when I told her to come stay here, but in my defense, I wasn’t thinking at all. The only thought running through my head after that day was to protect her. I didn’t realize that maybe the real danger might be inside my house.
I told myself I could just ignore her once she was here. That I could keep my distance. Pretend she didn’t get under my skin… But then she walked into my house and now everything feels like it is slipping out of control.
I scrub a hand over my jaw, pacing into my study. The room is dim except for the soft lamp on my desk. Papers lie scattered everywhere since I’ve been spending more time here than I should have. It wasn’t healthy, but it was the only way I could breathe without feeling my lungs constrict.
I sink into the leather chair but can’t sit still. My leg bounces. My fingers drum the armrest. My thoughts jump restlessly from one point to the next. 1
I haven’t been this unsettled in a long time. Being raised as the heir to one of the largest corporations teaches you to master your emotion, and I can usually handle it pretty well, but with Sierra around. It feels like all that carefully crafted control is being undone.
There was a time she made me lose control like that. I thought I hated it, but the truth is that I secretly loved that I unrestrained around her… That was before she started changing. /1
It’s fucking confusing, I know and most wouldn’t believe me, but there was a time I didn’t hate Sierra. I pretended I did, but I honestly couldn’t even if I wanted to. 1
I look at the paperwork and I just know I’m not getting any work done tonight, so I stand up and head to my room.
I haven’t changed much of it since Chloe died. It still has the same décor and some of her things are still around. I just can’t bring myself to erase her completely from my life.
Minutes after I change into sweatpants, soft footsteps catch my attention right before my door opens. I look up, and Nolan is standing at the doorframe, in his little pajamas, hair sticking up slightly from sleep.
“Dad?” He whispers it so quietly I almost think I imagined it.
My chest loosens just a little. “I thought you were asleep. Do you need Something p>
He steps in, closes the door with that careful gentleness kids use when they’re scared of making noise, and then climbs straight onto my lap.
“I had a nightmare,” he murmurs, his voice barely there.
I pull the blanket up around him, wrapping him close. His small body trembles once before settling against me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head, his curls brushing my chin as he buries himself against my chest. “Can I sleep here p>
My heart squeezes as I kiss the top of his head. “You always can, Nolan. You never have to ask p>
As he curls into me, I rest a hand on his back, feeling the soft rise and fall of his breathing. Lately, every time I look at the twins, all I can see is how naturally they gravitate toward Sierra, like she’s gravity and they’re helpless against the pull.
And as if my thoughts summoned her, Nolan speaks.
“I like Sierra,” he says after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
A quiet chuckle escapes me. The kid wasn’t telling me. He was informing me.
“I already figured that out, buddy. You and Nova spend almost every waking hour glued to her p>
“That’s because she’s nice,” he replies simply. “She plays with us. She helps us with homework and she listens… She doesn’t treat us like we’re a bother p>
Silence settles over us again, but I know what’s left unsaid… She treats us better than Aunt Brook.
And that truth hits harder than I want to admit.