Her words had my heart lurching hard and acid churning in my gut. Putting the plate down, I shoved my hands back in my pockets so she couldn’t see them shaking.

“God, I can’t even…knowing how close she came, Mack. I can’t seem to get my head around the fact that she’s okay now. She’ll always be okay. She beat the odds. Her fight is over.” Her voice thickened at the words. “But somehow, I find myself holding on too tight. I’m scared I’m suffocating her.” She stopped again, and I turned away to make the coffee, to give her time to pull herself together.

The moment I placed the mug in front of her, she was ready to talk again. “Scratch that. IknowI’m suffocating her. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Yes.” She looked me straight in the eyes, so I couldn’t ignore the turmoil there. “This caravan thing.”

Ah, so that was it. The acid that had churned in my gut moments earlier roiled around even harder.

“It’s exactly what Bella needs right now. I know that. On top of the fact that it’s an amazing thing to do, for all of those kids, it would give her a chance to spread her wings, see a bit of the world, and all that, you know?”

I nodded.

“I know you said you didn’t want to do it and I get it. You’d hate all that attention on you. I just wanted to explain the situation and maybe see if you could think about changing your mind. I know Arabella’s a full-grown woman, but she’s still my baby. If you could see your way to changing your mind, then I can be a bit easier about it, because I trust you, Mack. You’d look out for her, wouldn’t let her come to any harm. But you also wouldn’t take her shit.” She smiled at the last sentence, but then the smile faded and she looked at me closely. It was all I could do not to squirm at the scrutiny. “I really hope you’ll reconsider. It’d mean the world to Arabella. And to us.” Her eyes held mine, pleading.

Given everything she’d just told me, yes was the only possible answer, because how could I do otherwise? But I needed time to get my head around it, so I said, “Yeah, I’ll think about it, Sylvie. I promise.”

Blowing out a breath of relief, she smiled, and it seemed more natural this time. “That’s all I ask. And just so you know, David and I are going out for dinner tonight. Arabella will be home alone. If you want to talk to her, tonight might be a good time.”

“Alright.”

The tension in her finally easing, she said, “Thank you, Mack. For thinking about it, at least.”

I watched as she walked out, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a fresh pot of coffee I wasn’t going to drink. I leaned against the kitchen counter, staring out the window. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, but my mind was elsewhere.

I thought about how the Snows had brought me into their family, right alongside Noah. It was enough for them that he thought of me as his brother, so they thought of me as family. They never asked for anything in return, either. I’d never experienced anything like it in my life. I owed them so damn much.

But the other side of the coin was the messy tangle of feelings I had for Arabella. Feelings that made this whole thing so fucking complicated. Could I really spend days on end with her and keep it all in check?

I felt like I was standing at a crossroads, torn between what I wanted to do and what I should do. My mind full, I busied myself in the kitchen, throwing together some pasta and a basic red sauce. Simple, quick—anything to kill time while Sylvie and David headed out for their dinner date. I took a couple bites, but truth be told, I wasn’t really hungry. I was too damn antsy, my foot tapping against the kitchen tile like I was drumming out the seconds.

There was an urgency pulsing through me, a need to set things right with Arabella. She’d been walking around like a rain cloud had taken up permanent residence over her head, and I hated knowing I was the reason for it. Tonight, I was aiming to be her silver lining.

After forcing down a few more bites, I rinsed off my plate and left it in the sink. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t wait any longer.

I pulled on my jacket and stepped out into the evening air. It was crisp, but not too cold—perfect for a walk to clear my head and set my intentions straight.

Each step closer to Arabella quickened my pulse and had my mind whirling. Fuck, was this a bad idea? Probably, but I was all in now.

Reaching her porch, my heart thumped, hard and painful. This was it. No turning back. I rapped my knuckles against the door, holding my breath as I waited for her to answer. My blood felt like it was humming, buzzing with anticipation and a shit-ton of nerves. But it was time to face whatever was gonna happen next.

The door creaked open and there she was. For a second, just a split second, something flickered in her eyes when she saw it was me. I couldn’t tell what because it vanished, like a shooting star you’re not sure you really saw.

“I’d like to talk to you. If you don’t mind.” My voice was steady, so thank fuck for that, at least.

Wordlessly, she stepped back, leaving the door ajar as an unspoken invitation. Following her inside, I shut the door behind me. Arabella walked into the kitchen, pulled a wineglass from the cabinet, and poured herself a generous serving. Didn’t offer me anything, but that was fine. I wasn’t here for the hospitality.

Leaning against the counter, one arm folded across her waist and the other cradling the wine glass near her face, she surveyed me. Her posture was all but screaming, ‘Guarded.’ Her gaze wasn’t quite cold, but definitely not warm, either. Impassive. Like she’d put up a wall, and I was on the outside looking in.

My heart sank a little, but I had something to say, something I hoped could bring down that wall, even just a little.

“I changed my mind. I think we should do the Caravan of Christmas,” I blurted out, locking eyes with her.

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Oh? What brought this on?” Her voice was flat, devoid of the excitement I’d expected.

For a moment, doubt gnawed at me. Had she changed her mind? Just when I’d finally come around to the idea, was she over it? The thought was a sucker punch to my gut.