Page 84 of Broken
She rang the doorbell.
A moment later, the door opened. Ethan stood there wearing nothing but a pull-on diaper. Sad eyes stared up at her. “My mommy died.”
Pain slashed through her. “That’s so sad, Ethan. I’m sorry.”
He left her standing there and toddled away. Her heart broke for him.
She pushed open the door to see Prescott coming down the stairs. His T-shirt was stretched to its limit over his muscular torso, while his worn and tattered blue jeans hung low on his hips. Prescott, casual, had her biting back a gasp.
Wow, just wow.
She stepped inside, shut the door. “You told him.”
“Yesterday.”
He stopped inches away, the anguish in his eyes impossible to ignore. She might dislike him—andnotwant to work with him—but her heart still ached for him and his family. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “I’m sorry.”
He pulled her flush against him. The seconds ticked by while they clung to each other. Then, he took a deep breath, his chest expanding against hers. She loved being in his arms, but she also loved being a refuge for him.
A heady mix of empathy and passion, dislike and determination washed over her. Drowning in the feelings, she broke away, severing their connection. She was there to work, not be his friend, and certainly not his lover.
Yet, when she stared into his eyes, the pain had been replaced with the confidence she’d become so addicted to.
“How’s Ethan doing?” she asked.
“Last night was rough.”
She stroked his shoulders. “What can I do?”
“Find the SOB who did this.”
That, she could do, but not alone.
“Let me grab the water,” she said.
He followed her out front, pulled the waters from the back, then eyed the large, bouncy ball. “Is that for him?”
“No, that’s for you,” she replied. “A blue ball for the man who’s going to have them. It’s a fun reminder of your promise to me.”
His deep, sexy laugh rumbled through her. She liked his laugh… but she likedmakinghim laugh even more. They brought the items inside and she followed him to the kitchen.
Ethan was coloring, but not in the book, he was drawing on Prescott’s very expensive-looking kitchen table.
Ignoring that, she said, “Ethan, I brought you the water you like.”
He stopped coloring. “I don’t want water.” The belligerence in his voice didn’t surprise her. He was grieving, yet not old enough to fully comprehend what had happened.
She set the large bouncy ball on a chair, poured two waters, and sat. He stopped marking up the table to eye the water. “I don’t like your water.”
Jacqueline sipped, set the glass down. “It’s just as delicious as the water at my house.” She offered a little smile. “Can I color with you?”
Prescott sat next to him and eyed the markings on his table. “I think it would be nice to let Jack color with us.”
A stack of printer paper, along with a large crayon box, sat on the table.
Prescott slid a few pieces of paper in front of her. She started to draw the three of them playing with the new blue ball in Prescott’s yard. Prescott joined her, drawing a bunch of geometric designs. Ethan watched them, then picked up a piece of paper and started scribbling.
Jacqueline thought Prescott did the right thing by not scolding him for coloring the furniture. Today was a hard day for Ethan.
