He stared at her, then barked out another laugh. “Sure. Pretty ridiculous.”
Dinner was scrambled eggs, rice, and sliced apples, because those were the only things in the house he trusted himself not to ruin. The girls ate with a concentration that broke him all over again. Joy tried carefully with a fork. June abandoned utensils halfway through and used her fingers.
“Table manners,” Mason began automatically, then stopped.
Who was he correcting? A starving child?
He swallowed the lesson and said only, “There’s more if you want it.”
There was no more talking after that for a while. They ate. He watched. A fire snapped softly in the living room hearth.
When dishes were half done, he felt a tug at his jeans. June stood there with her arms lifted.
He looked at her. “You want—”
“Up.”
He lifted her. She settled against him with terrifying trust, head tucking beneath his chin, and fell asleep before he could carry her out of the kitchen.
Mason stood perfectly still.
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