“Bye, princess.”
Annie didn’t say a word. One step forward, two steps back. Maybe three.
“Matt, watch me,” Gracie said, flying down the slide, then twirling across the yard.
“Nice twirl, ladybug.” He kissed the top of Annie’s head, stood, and stared down at her another second. With his heart heavy, he walked to the other end of the play-set where an opening under the monkey bars led to the fort above. Putting his hands on the edge, he pulled himself up easily and sat with his legs hanging out. Bright yellow maples stood out against a deep blue sky. The wind blew, rustling the changing leaves in the branches—the sound of fall. The perfect day for a man to spend outside with his kids.
“Hey, bud.”
Jack stared through the plastic telescope. “Hey.”
“I have to go. I’m sorry.” A lifetime of I’m sorry and doling out disappointment spread in front of him like black space.
“I know. You have to save people. It’s okay.”
Jack’s understanding only made it worse as Matt hugged him goodbye.
“Someday, I’ll be a hero like you,” Jack said.
And the knife in his gut twisted. He was no hero.
Matt hopped down from the play fort. He grabbed up Gracie from where she was pulling flowers, tossed her into the air, and brought her in for a crushing hug.
“You’re queezing me,” she said, even as her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms choked his neck.
He loosened his hold and she pulled back. “I picked you some fowers.” She stuck them under his nose.
“Thank you, baby.”
She sniffed them and fingered the collar of his shirt. “Are you tumming back?”
“Always,” he said and gave her one last squeeze before putting her down and walking inside to face an even harder goodbye.
He found Abby standing at the window overlooking the backyard. He stepped up behind her and slid his hands around her middle, hoping to feel the baby move one more time before he left. His chest tightened when she covered his hands with her own.
Running his lips up the side of her neck, he breathed her in as her head fell back. God, he loved her. He’d known her barely six weeks, had visited her twice, slept beside her less than a handful of nights, yet leaving her made him physically nauseous. And the kids? That was just fucking painful. Part of him was grateful Charlie had fallen asleep. “I hate saying goodbye to them.”
“I know, but they love you.”
The words stopped something in his heart. “And what about their mother?”
Abby’s fingers tensed on top of his. Damn it. He shouldn’t have asked, knew better than to push. He saw what he needed to see in her eyes when they made love. Matt turned her in his arms. “Jury’s still out on that, huh?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood as he gently tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
“It’s not that. It’s just…Maybe we’re not—”
“Shh.” Matt touched his forehead to hers. Her breath kissed his face. “I’m scared too. That you’ll tell me not to come back. That it’s too hard for you, for the kids.”
She eased away, shaking her head slowly. “You have a job, an important one. I underst—”
“You’re important.” His words rushed out and he took her face between his palms. “Don’t ever doubt that.”
But he knew she did. He pressed soft kisses over her troubled eyes, her worried brow and serious mouth. Raising his head, he brought her chin up until she looked him in the eye. “I don’t want to hurt you, baby, I swear, but please don’t ask me to let you go. Give us a chance. Give me a chance.”
Abby’s eyes were soft and open, sad and loving, and a million other things he couldn’t name. He kissed her, pouring out his heart, giving her everything he could. It would have to last them both until he saw her again. Until he could get back here, where more and more he felt like he belonged.
Chapter 25
Matt grabbed a candy bar from a ceramic jack-o’-lantern on his mother’s counter.
She turned from the sink. “Matt, I’m making lunch.”
“I know,” he said, popping a second one into his mouth. “But they’re tiny.” He’d only come over to borrow a tool from his dad, but his mother had insisted he stay for lunch.
“They’re called ‘fun-size,’ ” she said, setting a plate in front of him, “and I got them for the kids, not you.”
He couldn’t help but smile, recalling Jack’s comment when they’d been to the store. What’s fun about them? They’re small. Matt agreed.
And that reminded him. Candy. Halloween. Abby had said she was getting giant bags of Halloween candy at a place that sold in bulk. He’d seen some of the stuff in her pantry: cases of soda, thirty-pound boxes of laundry detergent, giant packages of water bottles.