Page 51 of Timelessly Ours

I return thirty minutes later. Rory is watching cartoons in the den and Nicole sits on the bar stool with a bowl of berries. “Pancakes came out great. I left some for you.”

I glance at a plate she prepared for me. A pair of pancakes, a side of eggs that look like they might be scrambled, a banana, and some peanut butter. I give her a crooked smile. “That’s a big plate.”

She shrugs. “It’s what Nick eats after a workout. Minus the pancakes.”

Glancing at my distracted daughter in the other room, I inch toward Nicole, who stiffens. It’s subtle, but I don’t miss it.

I can’t help but hope that one day, she’ll respond to me differently when I come near her.

Very differently.

“I’m lifting the probation.”

Her brows crease. “You can’t lift something I put in place.”

“I just did. And you didn’t set it in place, you adjusted it.”

She considers it for a minute, then looks up at me. “Why?”

“Because there should have never been one. I hired you because I’ve been watching you with my daughter for the last two years and you’ve got a way with her no one’s ever had.”

I’ve been watching you without my daughter too, but I’ll leave that part out for now. “I also promised I’d teach you and I didn’t follow through. Instead, I yelled at you. It’s something…”

Her green eyes lift to mine when my voice turns gravelly.

“Something I never thought I’d do.”

It’s another admission to the connection we have.

Understanding and something like resolve settles her features and the pang of guilt hits harder.

She slides off the chair, but I barely give her breathing room. I don’t move away. She looks up at me. “She’s not safe with me,” she whispers.

Shit. “You heard that?”

She shrugs. “I’ve known it all along.”

I need to change the fucking locks on my doors. “Nicole,” I start, but she holds up a hand.

“Nothing is lifted. The probation stands. Tuesday, right?” She nods, answering her own question. “We’ll see then.” She moves away from me and starts clearing the counter.

I feel like I broke her.

It was just five days ago when I walked into my kitchen and she was glowing, laughing, teasing me that she’d lost my dog and fed my girl candy. Thanking me for what I’d done for her.

I don’t recognize the person I unleashed.

But I can’t blame her. I shouted at her and then backpedaled my offer of a safe place to live and a steady job. I’d given her a chance only to put a timer on it two days later. And now, she can barely look at me for more than three seconds.

Relenting for the time being, I ask. “What will you do today?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re off this weekend. You need time off so I’ll try to arrange for at least one to two days a week, depending on travel game schedule. But I’m home until Monday so, you have the weekend off.”

“Oh.”

“And I paid you this morning.”

---