And sure enough, he had barely made it to the bedroom before he’d heard the footsteps and the dishes clattering then the front door opening and goodbyes being given.
Then fifteen minutes later, footsteps on the stairs and Abby had crawled into bed.
Luckily, he’d begun his fake sleeping already, so Hunter had just whispered loudly—loudly because it seemed like no matter how kids tried to lower the volume of their voices, it was still ear-piercing, “Dad’s sleeping!”
“I see that,” came Abby’s lilting voice, at a much more reasonable volume. The bed shifted as she crawled onto the mattress. “Can I join you for the last little bit of this episode? It’s one of my favorites.”
“It’s epic!” Hunter said over a certain not-quite-Jedi wielding her saber.
“It is at that,” she whispered.
And Jordan didn’t chime in.
Because he was pretending to be asleep.
Pretty soon the episode was over, and Abby left with Hunter to tuck him into bed, but when she returned, he immediately knew the jig was up.
Mostly because she sat down next to him on the bed and said, “I know you’re awake.”
He stifled a sigh but opened his eyes. “Hey, sweetheart, you ready for bed?”
She just looked at him.
He just looked at her.
And then she released a deep breath and said, “I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry.”
She had, but it hadn’t been on purpose. He knew that. But he’d been so convinced he could just easily fix this little bump in the road she was having if only he took enough off her plate and got her some sleep and time with her friends. He never considered that the real issue would be . . . her worrying he would leave her.
Some part of her honestly thought he would leave her.
Like his father.
Like her father.
Fuck, but that stung.
But it wasn’t like either of them had great examples of men in their lives. It wasn’t a surprise that there would be some deep-seated anxiety and fears. Or that she would be especially vulnerable during times like these, when she was exhausted and there were all sorts of hormones flowing through her.
It was just . . .
He wasn’t his father.
He knew that. She knew that.
So, he didn’t need to make it even harder for her.
Shifting, he slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her close, taking solace in the feel of his wife near him while shoving the slice of pain away.
“I know, baby,” he said. “It’s okay.”
She sighed, her arm coming around him. “It’s not.”
“You said something in the heat of the moment,” he told her, running his hand up and down her back. “I’m not hurt.”
He wasn’t hurt.
Not really.