Page 119 of Protecting You

That was the problem, wasn’t it?

Alyssa’d had it right. Love meant time and care, neither of which he’d shown to Peri. What made him think he could show them to Alyssa? And even if he could, he didn’t deserve her love. He didn’t deserve anything.

No shock those thoughts hadn’t helped him sleep.

He'd finally fallen asleep, then had woken up with the sunrise.

After texting Mom to confirm that he could leave Peri here for the weekend, he slipped into the shower and tried to focus, though thoughts of Alyssa dogged him.

She wasn’t vindictive. She wasn’t Megan. She’d forgive him. She’d understand why he had to give Peri all of his attention. Ultimately, when he and Alyssa parted, they’d part as friends.

Assuming they survived the weekend.

If he wanted to do that—and he absolutely must make sure they both made it out of this unscathed—then he needed to think straight.

He dried off and dressed in yesterday’s jeans and sweatshirt, not wanting to risk getting his new slacks and button-down dirty before they left for the party. He returned to his bedroom to read his Bible and pray.

A few minutes later, he opened his door to find Peri sitting crossed-legged in the hallway, leaning against the opposite wall. She wore her pajamas and socks, which explained why he hadn’t heard her approach.

“Good morning, Sweet Pea. Whatcha doing out here?”

She lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “Didn’t want to wake you.” She peered past him, looking confused.

“I was awake. Even if I hadn’t been, you can knock on my door anytime.” He scooped her into his arms. “You’re looking chipper as a daisy this morning.”

Which wasn’t entirely true. She looked tired, her skin pale, dark smudges beneath her eyes.

“Did you sleep all right?”

She shrugged.

“Talkative in the mornings, aren’t you, little one?”

She shrugged again, this time with the tiniest smile tugging her lips up.

“Hmm. What can I do to make you smile?” He carried her down the stairs, mulling the question.

He’d once tried tickling her, but she’d remained stone-faced. His mother had told him later that people only responded with laughter to being tickled when the tickling was done by someone they trusted.

He decided not to face that disappointment again.

“When I was your age, food always woke me up. What do you think? Are you hungry?”

Again, she said nothing, but this time, he got the feeling she was being quiet because he’d said she wasn’t talkative. Was she teasing him? Or punishing him?

The first, no doubt. She looked like her mother, but she hadn’t inherited Megan’s pettiness, thank God.

He carried her into the small walk-in pantry. “What do we have in here? Let’s see. Do you want”—he gazed at the cans—“baked beans?”

She shook her head, horrified. She didn’t seem to know if he was serious or kidding.

“How about spinach?”

She scrunched up her little face, but this time, she almost smiled.

“Hmm. Picky eater, I guess. Let’s see… Ooh, I’ve got it.” He grabbed a container. “Shortening.”

That earned a grin. “Silly.”

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