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Avery and Nessa pout up at Nolan, fluttering their eyelashes. “Please?”

He nods and waves them off glancing back over to Lillian with a smirk. He gives her a long once-over and I watch as her faceflushes with his perusal of her body. “I’m Nolan, best goalie to have ever lived. I’ve heard a lot about you, Lillian.”

She nods and holds out her hand over the island for them to shake. “I don’t know much about you, to be honest. We seem to usually skip over the hockey talk unless it’s after a game and I ask questions.” She chuckles and shakes her head, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Well, you boys go get washed up, too. I’m going to do the dishes and chop up some fruit to take out back with us.” She waves us out of the area and I leave without a thought.

“Damn… Man she is something else.” He pats my shoulder and steps into one of the guest bathrooms, leaving the door open as he washes his hands. “Have you talked to her about anythingmore?”

I shake my head. “No, we tiptoe around it. I know she’s feeling the same way, or at least starting to. She’s so sweet about it, blushes constantly. It’s fucking adorable.”

He smirks and nods. “You should bring her out one night… Maybe Logan and Bianca want a quiet night soon and wouldn’t mind sitting in with the girls.”

I shrug. “Let me know about dates for the cookout here, too. I want to make sure we have everything we need. I also need to check the propane in the barbecue.”

Chapter 8

Lillian

__________

It’s been a few days since Hurricane Brittany roared into our lives, I’m still not sure how I feel about it. I can still barely sleep and the girls are suffering through night terrors now, too. Eventually all three of them crawled into bed with me, and since that night, they’ve all been sleeping with me since about midnight.

Morgan has been kind, helpful, and around as much as he can when he’s not heading to the gym or to practice. He has a home game this week and is leaving again over the weekend. I can’t imagine a schedule like that, always on the move.

I’m the type that has to have roots down, these past few months have stressed me the hell out before I moved in with Morgan, but I still don’t feel grounded. Everything just feels temporary, and I’m not sure what to do about it.

I haven’t applied to any other jobs and I’m not holding my breath for any of the schools to contact me anytime soon. I just, I don’t know. My head and heart are a mess. I keep telling myself that it’s a mistake to lust after Morgan, but those damn looks hekeeps sending me? I can’t stop thinking about when he pressed me up against the sink and breathed me in, pressed his lips against my neck.

I would probably be getting myself off to it every night if the girls weren’t crawling into my bed.

I just got the little ones down for a nap when my phone starts to vibrate in my back pocket. I don’t recognize the number and debate on silencing it or answering.

I blow out a breath and click the green button. “Hello?”

“Hi! May I speak to Lillian Sarsfield?”

“Yes… This is her.”

The woman blows out a relieved breath. “Thank goodness. This is Marissa. Look, there’s been a man coming around, asking questions. I think it’s some sort of PI. I know you’re on the ‘do not call list’ and think it has something to do with that… but hon, Betty… she’s not doing so well, sweetheart. Her kids never even come by, I think you need to come see her if you can, soon.”

I press my hand to my mouth and tears drip down my chin. “What kind of person is asking questions? What are they saying?”

She clears her throat. “He’s licensed and everything. Obviously we couldn’t give him information but we did tell him the truth… that Betty hasn’t had a visitor in over five years. We don’t give out charts or health information. But the man just nodded, wrote something down on his phone, and left faster than he came…”

I chew on my lip and wonder if Morgan had something to do with this. Goodness, I need to call him. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m currently a full-time nanny… I’ll try to figure something out. It’s going to be hard for me to leave and I live out of state now…”

We hang up and I tap my phone against my hand. My bare feet tap against the tile as I pace around the living room. Whywould Morgan do this? I sigh as I send him a text to call me when he can and that it has nothing to do with the girls.

I plop down on the couch and stare at the dark, blank TV, trying to come to terms with this.

I’ve never had anyone, other than Betty and Francis, to care and do things to make me feel welcomed… loved.

And if it wasn’t him, then I’m going to start the freak out that someone is looking into my foster mom. Morgan replies and says he’s almost home and we can talk in person. I frown as I check the time. He’s coming home early today. Good thing I have some leftovers from our lunch that he can eat.

The girls barely ate it, but it’s a start.

I heat up the dish for him and place it at the island right when the garage door opens and he comes strolling in. I try to smile at him as he collapses down on the stool and shovels the chicken salad into his mouth and moans.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he murmurs around his fork and I clear my throat, leaning forward on the island and closing my eyes for a few moments.

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