I move toward the coffee maker, which means passing Cole to get there. My shoulder brushes his back as I reach for a mug, and neither of us moves away.
The contact lingers, warm and solid, and my skin remembers every place he touched me last night. The way he held me after I broke. The way he stayed with me until Xander brought Chesca home.
"I like it better when you two get along."
Chesca's voice cuts through whatever moment was building. Cole and I exchange a look, both caught off-guard by an eight-year-old who sees too much.
"We're working on it, tesoro."
"Progress takes time." Cole's voice is level, but his eyes hold mine a beat longer than necessary before he turns to plate the eggs.
Chesca climbs down from her chair and settles at the table with her Lucky Charms, the cooking lesson apparently complete. She stirs her cereal without eating it, which means she's thinking.
Never a good sign.
"Mr. Cole." She keeps her eyes on her cereal, stirring in slow circles. "How come you used to watch me from the pigeon bench? At school?"
Cole and I both go still as our eyes meet.
He sets down the spatula. His expression doesn't change, but his hands go motionless in a way they weren't before.
"I was making sure you got inside safe." Simple and direct, no justification offered. "Every day."
Every day.
He watched my daughter walk into school. Every single morning. Protecting her from threats I never knew existed.
"But why didn't you just say hi?" Chesca asks. "You could've met my teacher. She's nice."
"I wasn't ready to meet your teacher yet."
"That's weird."
"It was."
"Good thing you're not weird anymore." She returns to her cereal, apparently satisfied with this explanation.
The laugh escapes me before I can stop it, surprised out of me by her matter-of-fact acceptance. Cole's shoulders relax slightly.
A few minutes later, she glances up again, spoon frozen midway to her mouth. "Sandy's mom picks me up at ten, remember? We're doing the craft thing first, then a movie,then the sleepover." She wiggles in her chair, barely containing herself. "I can bring Aaron Bear, right?"
I pause, coffee cup halfway to my lips. "Are you sure you want to go? With everything going on?"
Chesca rolls her eyes with the full dramatic weight only an eight-year-old can muster. "Mamma. It was just a bad dream. Sandy has a trampoline."
A trampoline. Of course.
"Aaron Bear's in your pink bag by the door."
"You're the best." She shovels another spoonful, then points her spoon at Cole with sudden intensity. "You have to come to ALL my soccer games now. Not just sometimes. Mamma never cheers loud enough."
All of them.
My throat tightens. Not unpleasant, but terrifying.
Cole glances at me. Checking.Is that okay?
I nod because I don't trust my voice.