“Can Ryan read me a story?”

“I think you need to sleep.”

“But could I have a story first?”

Ryan, Ryan, Ryan.

“It’s my turn to read to you.” She sat on the edge of the bed, picked a story and started to read. Lizzy was asleep by the end of the first page.

Emily stayed for a few minutes, staring down at tumbled blond hair and vulnerability.

She’d been almost the same age when she’d lost her sister.

She’d been alone with her feelings. There had been no one to comfort her. No one to protect her.

Reaching out, she stroked the curls away from Lizzy’s face and bent to kiss her.

Lizzy wasn’t alone, and she was going to do her best to protect her. A few weeks earlier the responsibility had almost sent her running. Not now. Now, the fierceness, the desire to protect came not from duty but from somewhere deep inside. A place she hadn’t accessed for a long time. And finally she knew what she had to do.

Ryan was in the kitchen with his back to her, staring out of the window to the garden. He turned when he heard her walk in. “The storm flattened some of the plants.”

“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” She looked at those broad shoulders, at his handsome face, at the man she loved. “Thank you for what you did. Coming to see us. Bringing us home. All this—” She glanced at the surfaces, covered in gifts and donations of food. “I’m grateful.”

“I didn’t do it for your gratitude.” His eyes darkened. “I missed you.”

Her heart bumped against her chest. “Ryan—we can’t do this—”

“I know that. You’re exhausted.”

“I don’t mean now. I mean ever. Whatever there was between us, it has to stop.”

There was a long, pulsing silence. “Because you don’t want a relationship?”

It was a fair question. She hadn’t thought anyone would break through the layers of protection she’d woven around herself, but Ryan Cooper had managed it.

“Because you don’t. And it isn’t fair to Lizzy.”

Those dark brows met in a frown. “What’s between us has nothing to do with Lizzy.”

“How can it have nothing to do with Lizzy? She’s part of my life, Ryan. She was asking for you just now. She wanted you to read to her.”

“You should have called me. I would have been happy to read to her.”

“This time.” Her mouth felt as if she’d swallowed sand. “She’s growing too attached to you. She asks for you all the time. Every other word is Ryan. In the hospital she was crying for you—”

A muscle flickered in his cheek. “You should have called me—”