He bent his head to nibble on her neck, making her sigh. “I like how you smell.”

Thank you, Frankie.

She ran her fingers through his hair, loving the feel of his body on top of hers, something she’d never thought she’d have again.

Braced on one elbow, he stroked the hair from her face and smiled down at her. When the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, she stared up at him. He looked…happy.

She’d made him happy, and without thinking, she whispered the words that she’d barely thought. “I love you.”

Shock bloomed in his eyes. “Kit.”

An apology sprang to her lips, but she held it in. Welcome or not, it was how she felt. She wouldn’t apologize for her own feelings.

He shook his head as if to say no—or that he didn’t believe her. “That isn’t—” He stopped at the sound of light footsteps downstairs.

Kit gasped. “It’s Aric.”

“Hell.” Hawk rolled off the bed.

Snatching up her clothing, Kit ran into the bathroom to dress.

A minute later, she heard the door open, and Hawk called, “Kid, what you got there—cookies?”

“I did blue,” Aric piped.

“I’ll come down,” Hawk said. The door closed, and his voice grew fainter. “I need a blue cookie.”

By the time she got downstairs, Aric was coloring at the island. Frosting streaked his face, and his fingers were blue.

She’d heard the outside door close as she’d left the bedroom. A glance through the windows showed Hawk had just left and was striding across the courtyard to his own place.

An ache set up residence in her heart.

Hawk took his troubles out onto the lake.

“I love you,” she’d said. Had to be the most beautiful melody in the world. One that drifted through his head over and over as the kayak skimmed over the water.

He paddled faster until cold drops of water sprayed over his face.

But he couldn’t escape the words, the surge of joy that’d hit, or the fucking rock-bottom realization that saying the words back would fuck them up.

He sure wasn’t the person she needed in her life. Not permanently.

He might be an okay husband; yeah, he’d do his damndest to make sure he was, but a father?

Love couldn’t fix everything.

Lifting the paddle, he let the kayak drift and listened to the soft hiss of the bow cutting water.

Near the bank, the trumpeter swans, Han and Leia, with four half-pint gray cygnets watched warily. The thought of Aric looking at him that way was a knife in the gut.

Never.

It hadn’t been that hard to take care of a quiet, timid boy. But as Aric got past the shit that’d happened with the PZs, he’d return to being a typical noisy, mouthy boy.