Papa Bear (Finding Fatherhood Book 1) by Kit Tunstall, Kit Fawkes Page A

her tone or her expression. More likely, he was just fed up with her entire disconnected attitude. She couldn’t blame him, but she couldn’t think of a better way to dissuade him from trying to convince her to change her mind. She couldn’t let herself end up in that position, because she was too close to giving in as it was.
    “Can you hold her and look after her for a bit? I thought I’d grill us some steaks.”
    She nodded, setting aside the Kindle and lifting her arms so he could lay Angel in them. She supported the little girl’s head and started cooing to her, feeling that familiar rush of maternal love surge over her. It was another illusion, but she couldn’t so easily disconnect from this one. Not that it was easy to disconnect from how she felt for Lucas, but she knew what was at stake if she didn’t. It was because of the sweetheart in her arms that she had to distance herself from him, though it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She wanted to embrace both of them, to create their own family with just the three of them.
    As much as she loved holding Angel, it was a relief to pass her back to Lucas when he announced dinner was ready a little while later. Holding the baby was sweet torture and simply reminded her of what she couldn’t have. Her appetite was nonexistent, but she pushed food around the plate as Lucas ate with gusto, and Angel snoozed in the crook of his arm. The silence was getting to her, and she abruptly pushed away her plate and stood back from the table. “Thanks for dinner, but I’m done.”
    She grabbed her plate and cleared it in the sink before running from the kitchen. She froze in the living room as silent sobs shook her body, not even certain what had pushed her to this point. Maybe it was just the simple domesticity of the scene she had fled, underscoring that she was an outsider rather than part of it, that had reduced her to tears. She wasn’t certain, and she couldn’t seem to staunch the flow or get her feet to move to the somewhat private area of the loft she had claimed for her room. She just stood there sobbing, and it wasn’t until she felt Lucas’s arms go around her that she realized she’d been waiting for that.
    He held her with his stomach pressed against her back, and his large arms enfolding her curvy frame. She didn’t look at him, but she did glance over to see Angel sleeping in her car seat on the floor near the couch. Of it its own accord, her body turned in his arms and curved against him. It was heaven to have him holding her, even though she was soaking his T-shirt with her tears. She shouldn’t even allow herself this moment of weakness, taking comfort from him, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself as she melted against him.
    He rubbed her back, murmuring soothing words as she cried the rest of the tears that had built up inside her. As long as it took her to expunge them, she thought maybe they had been accumulating for most of her life. She had never cried in front of her mother, at least not from the time she was a little girl, because Sylvia had taunted her whenever she did so. Part of her was ashamed to be crying now, but mostly it just felt cathartic.
    When the final sobs fled, and she was doing nothing more than an occasional snuffle or hiccup, she started to pull away. His arms tightened around her, and she should have resisted, but she didn’t.
    “What’s wrong, Libby?”
    The simple question threatened to unravel her newly regained control, and she had to swallow a lump in her throat and fight the renewed sting of tears in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure why I’m crying.” Her voice sounded thick and wet, and her throat was scratchy.
    “You’ve been through something traumatic, and it’s not uncommon to have an emotional breakdown hours, or even days, after something like the shooting.”
    It would have been smarter to let him believe that was what left her a sobbing mess before, but she knew it wasn’t