“I can’t f**king believe you brought me in here right after you brought her in here,” I bite out. “Of all the f**king nerve, Paul Reed.” I stand up and brush the hair from my forehead. “If you think you’re going to get me between your dirty f**king sheets, you have another think coming!” I point my finger at him. “Fuck you, Paul.” My breaths are heaving as though I ran a five-minute mile. He comes forward and traps my wrists in his fists. He’s strong. I knew it, but I have never really felt it. He holds me tightly.

“I didn’t f**k her,” he says. He jerks me gently, which makes me fall into him. “Look at me,” he says. He’s still holding my wrists, with my front plastered against his.

“I don’t want to,” I pout.

He chuckles, so I try to strike out at him, but he still holds my wrists. I could get free if I wanted to. I know that much about him. But I really don’t want to. Mainly because I’m starting to think my perception of what happened was wrong.

“Stop laughing,” I say.

“I didn’t f**k her. She wanted to read me the riot act because she was jealous. That’s all. We talked. She sniffled a couple of times, and I hugged her. That’s it.”

“Then why were you pulling on a new shirt?”

“Because Hayley smeared my other one with icing.”

“Kelly was jealous?” I ask. My voice is so quiet I can barely hear it. But the tight fist of my own jealousy that was wrapped around my heart eases a little bit.

“She was.”

“Why?” My voice is still small.

“Apparently, when I had my head on your knee, I looked peaceful.”

“You felt peaceful,” I murmur.

“Yes, I did,” he says. “I like having you close to me. I like it a lot.” He heaves in a sigh and says on an exhale, “Probably more than I should.”

“I like it, too,” I say.

He lets my wrists go and brackets my face with his hands. He tips my chin up with gentle thumbs and looks into my eyes. His are blue, so blue they’re almost gray. They’re like a cool pond on a hot summer day. I could fall into them and stay there forever.

His breath brushes across my lips. “I really like you,” he says.

I grab his wrists this time, because if I don’t hold on to something I’ll fall over. My knees never wobble like this. “I like you, too,” I whisper again. I look from his eyes to his mouth and back, hoping he’ll just shut up and kiss me.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

“I don’t trust anyone,” I admit.

“Why not?” His thumbs sweep back and forth over my cheeks.

“Because most people aren’t trustworthy.” My gut clenches when his eyes flash. That leaves him with questions, and they’re not questions I want to answer.

“Will you tell me the story about why you feel that way sometime when we’re alone?” he asks. He’s still staring into my eyes.

“Probably not.”

He chuckles.

“Paul,” I say quietly.

“What?” he whispers back.

“Are you going to break my heart?” I look into his eyes because I think I might find the truth there, if there is such a thing.

“No,” he says. His voice is strong and clear.

I hear a voice through the crack in the door say, “Ask him if he promises!”

“What the f**k?” Paul says, tossing his head back. He opens the door, and Pete and Sam fall into the room. They land on top of one another.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Paul asks, staring down at the two of them in a heap.

They look at one another. “Not really.” They start to lumber to their feet, and Paul walks out of the room.

Sam wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Ask him if he promises,” he says.

“What does that even mean?”

“When Mom died, we asked Paul if it would all be all right and he promised it would. It was,” Sam says.

Pete goes on to say, “And when Dad left, we asked again if it was going to be all right, if we’d make it by ourselves. And we did…because Paul promised we could.”

Fuck. My gut clenches. “I wouldn’t want him to waste a promise on me.” I try to laugh it off, but they don’t think it’s funny.

“Sometimes, all you need is a promise so you can keep going,” Sam says. “If you need a promise, ask for it. He’ll say yes or no.”

“I don’t need a promise.”

“Yes, you do.” Sam stares at me.

I break free of him with a shove and walk back out into the living room. Cody and Garrett are side by side, talking to Matt and Sky. Their daughter Mellie runs through the room, and Matt sticks out and arm, scooping her up and flipping her upside down as she squeals. Her shirt falls down, showing her belly, and Matt blows a raspberry there. “Daddy!” she squeals.

Matt visibly melts every time he hears that word. He grins and hugs her so tightly that she squeaks.

I look at Seth, but he just smiles and shakes his head at their antics.

I sit down beside Garrett, and he leans over and presses his lips to my forehead. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I say, leaning into his kiss. “I’m fine.”

“That was kind of hot,” Garrett says. “I might get Cody to reenact that carry-you-off scene with me later.”

Cody shakes his head. “Something tells me it wouldn’t have the same effect.” He grins.