ELENA
Aiden asked me with those big pleading eyes, the kind that made saying no feel like I was stomping on a puppy.
“Can Dad come for lunch?”
He was up and walking now—slowly, with a slight limp when he got tired, but up nonetheless. And somehow, even on minimal sleep and a house still reeling from the last rogue attack, my son managed to look like pure sunshine in flannel pajamas and socks that didn’t match.
I hesitated.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want Derek around Aiden. That wasn’t the problem. He’d proven himself. Again and again. With gentleness I never knew he had. With patience I couldn’t have taught him. With a fierce, protective love that made me ache just watching them together.
The problem was me.
But I nodded. “Okay. Just for lunch.”
Aiden beamed, already running—well, ho
