20th January

I stand in my room after blowing up at Gabs and think about how much of an asshole I was.

She was honest with me, she told me she could end up wanting more and I told her I couldn't give her that.

Instead of telling her that I'm fucking terrified of the exact same thing.

Gabrielle makes me feel things I haven't felt in a long time and yeah, that terrifies me because she's not available. She's just come out of a relationship she's been in since high school. She has a daughter and maybe I'm an asshole, but I don't know if I'm the right person to be a step father.

That's an entire fucking child that gets caught in the middle of the pain if Gabrielle and I don't work out.

When things end, I lose a step daughter because they're a package deal. I wouldn't take one without the other, which means I'd end up saying goodbye to a little friend and I'm already pretty fond of that kid. She's cool.

There's just so much at risk and I'm a coward, I know I am.

I should tell her that. I should tell her I'm scared of how I feel.

My hand wraps around the door knob and I pause. Lydia doesn't even know her mom and dad aren't together. She thinks the fucker is sick. She might like me as a friend but I don't want to be the reason she gets life long trust issues when her mom starts kissing some other dude that isn't her father.

I step back from the door and pace, walking around with my hands on my hips. She's better off without me. Both of them are. What happens if I go into that room and tell her I'm scared of falling in love with her?

She's already told me that she is too. So then what? We admit that starting something is a bad idea and we continue living our lives under the same roof, knowing we want each other but not letting it happen?

This is painful. Fucking painful. I feel hot and I'm already shirtless.

The door suddenly bursts open and Gabs stands there in her t-shirt and thong, her long legs meeting her hips, the little dips like handles I want to wrap my hands around.

She looks like she's about to rip me a new one until she notices I'm practically sweating.

"What?" I ask.

The hardness returns to her face and she points at me. "I think I want to know why you won't commit to people. You're always talking and being honest. Be honest about that."

"I was in a relationship like six months ago. I'm just. . . careful with my commitment."

Her features screw up as she recoils. "Is there something about me that makes you think you it wouldn't be careful to commit?"

"When did this line of questioning become about you?"

I might as well have slapped her. "Fuck you," she snaps and turns on her heel.

Following the storm, I catch her door before it slams on my face and she turns around, her cheeks reddened.

"You're kidding, right?" She folds her arms, flattening her shirt to her braless chest. I can't do this shit. I'm so fucking disgusting. "I practically asked you if there was a chance you'd want to commit to me and you said you couldn't give me what I wanted."

I shake my head. "You and I are remembering that conversation a little differently."

She's not entirely wrong, in a way, she did ask if I would be capable of giving that to her, but I'm a fucking coward.

She scoffs. "You understood what the undertone was, Nathan."

"Then you should've left it alone and stayed in bed, Gabrielle. I said, what I said. Besides, you told me the exact same thing. You're afraid of wanting more and it's not a good time, so it's best we don't go there, right? How is this all on me?"

She falters, her breath catching. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I just wanted to know what the commitment thing is about. But I shouldn't have barged in like that. I'm— I'm sorry."

I hate it when I make her feel like she has to apologize to me.

"I was dating this girl about six months ago," I start, figuring I might as well tell her what my last attempt at a relationship looked like. "We'd been together for about four months. Thought it was going well and then I found out she was here for work and it was never going to be permanent. She was going back to Portland and wanted me to go with her. She fucking should've told me she wasn't hanging around from the start. I definitely wasn't moving. So that was that. Started feeling for a girl that wasn't hanging around."

She watches me, her glare lifting, being replaced by understanding. "You think I won't hang around?"

I step into her, just to breathe her in and torture myself a little more. "I'm afraid that you won't. I'm afraid that you will. There's more than just you and I to think about here."

"I know," she whispers, stepping in closer, just as I did. "It'd be complicated. Lydia doesn't deserve to be caught up in this if we have to move out."

"You wouldn't have to move out."

"We're not even together and we just had a fight."

I tip her chin up, my thumb ever so slightly grazing her skin. "I would never make you leave. I'd be the best damn actor anyone has ever seen just so things seemed normal. But I wouldn't make you leave. No matter what was going on between us."

"What is. . .going on between us?"

I'm at a loss for words, which doesn't happen all that often. Still, I have no idea what's going on other than I want her, I want her so much it's making me think about domestic shit like family movie nights and trips to the Sunday market and watching school productions and things I have no right to be thinking about.

I'm not the one that gets to insert myself into that reality.

It's her life and her child and she's barely lived her life on her own outside of a relationship.

"I think we're just two people who are attracted to each other and we have to learn to live with it."

She looks hurt again, and I hate that. Something tells me she needs validation and I won't hold that against her.

"It's not that I don't want you," I tell her, resting my forehead against hers. "I just want to put your needs first, Gabrielle. Please believe me."

She nods, stepping back from me and I wonder how many times I'll let her put that distance between us before I decide I can't fucking stand it and I hold her close and never let go.

"Yeah, lets keep it complication free," her smile doesn't touch her eyes or swell her cheeks. "Good night, Nathan."

It feels so wrong not to reach out for her. It feels wrong to turn around and walk out of her room without telling her to hell with caution, let's fuck until the night turns into morning and forget about the risks of falling in love.

It all feels wrong but I leave and get into my own bed and I wonder when this feeling will fucking end.

                        Over the next week, Gabrielle and I tiptoe around each other. Which is the very thing I wanted to avoid.

I go to work and deal with teenagers, sometimes I stay late for football practice and sometimes I do my admin in the actual office.

Gabrielle hangs out in her room more, she cleans up with headphones in and when we have to sort out dinner, we do it quickly and politely.

It's sterile and distant and I miss what we were building before.

Lydia hasn't noticed, I don't think. She still helps me with the firewood or shoveling the footpath or whatever odd jobs need to be done around the house and she talks all about school and bosses me around. It's cute. She's also gotten into the habit of getting me to brush her hair in the morning. Her and I are always awake before Gabs.

On Friday morning, she's standing in front of the television watching an episode of H20, some mermaid series that's on most mornings when I get up. Lydia stands there in her onesie and waves her hand around like the mermaids do when they're using their power.

"Cleeeeeeooooo," she shouts and then she sees me and instead of getting embarrassed about me walking in on her performance, she waves her powers at me and adds some sound effects with her mouth.

I take a step toward the sofa and she shouts at me. "You're frozen! I frozed you."

"Oh, shit." I freeze, standing there in my sweats and a hoodie. "You wanna unfreeze me so I can grab my t-shirt. I need it for work."

She spins around and spots my t-shirt that says ARCHWOOD WOLVES across the front of it. Her little hand snatches it up and she launches it at me.

"Okay your unfreezed now."

"Phew," I give her a fist bump and fling the shirt across my shoulder. "You want some breakfast?"

She puts her finger on her chin and turns her face up, like she does when she's being dramatic with her thoughts. I know what she's going to say before she's even said it.

"Can you do the toast with the face?"

"Course kid," I tell her and walk to the kitchen with her little bouncing steps in tow.

A while ago, I showed Lydia this trick where I press a face pattern into the bread before I toast it, and when it's toasted, it makes a little smile, or a heart or whatever she requests and I'm capable of making.

This morning it's a sad face. She lifts her arms up for me and I pick her up and sit her on the bench.

"A sad face?" I ask.

"Yeah, I miss my dad."

Damn. This is the part that fucks me up every time she brings it up. I don't tell her he misses her too, because obviously he doesn't.

"What do you miss doing with him?"

She watches me push a sad face into the bread with my finger, this time her thinking isn't dramatic. It's quiet and real and also sort of sad.

"I don't know," her lip drops. "He let me play on his iPad all the time. It had this cool pen and i could do drawings on the screen. Like a coloring book but on the screen."

Cool, so all his interaction with her was diverted to a fucking iPad. I shouldn't judge him for that, I don't judge Gabrielle for letting her watch television. But Josh is a fucking idiot and I'm pretty sure anything he does is going to rub me wrong.

Before I can compose my frustration enough to answer her, Gabrielle appears from the corridor in a rush, wrapping her robe cord around her waist. "You really need to start waking me up."

She comes over to us, rubbing her face, her hair is in a mess of curls around her face. Her eyes scan the counter top, noting the breakfast prep going on.

"It's no big deal," I remind her. This has been going on since Lydia got her own bedroom. She doesn't wake Gabrielle up in the morning now, which means Gabrielle comes out here to her daughter fed and her hair brushed and she apologizes.

"You shouldn't have to do all of this," she murmurs, scooting me back from the bench. "Uh, what's going on your toast this morning baby? Nutella? You want a hot chocolate?"

I sigh, watching her fluster around, still half asleep. Something tells me she's not used to having help with this sort of shit and it's clear she doesn't know how to accept it either.

I can practically see how she's branded herself a burden and I hate that. I hate it because making breakfast for her kid is inconsequential in terms of morning tasks. In fact, I enjoy it and I like having a part in making her routine just a little bit easier.

"Gabrielle, I get up early for work, it's not a big deal if I make her breakfast."

She doesn't say anything, but I can see her shoulders are tight and Lydia watches us, wordless.

"Fine, make her toast," I quickly whip my hoodie off, slip the t-shirt on and then put the hoodie back over my head. "Want me to do your hair, Lyd?"

She's about to give me a big enthusiastic nod when Gabrielle cuts her off with a sharp, "No."

She's finished spreading Nutella on the toast, not bothering to ask why it's a sad face this morning.

This is getting ridiculous. I grip Gabrielle's elbow and start dragging her out of the kitchen, pointing at Lydia. "One second, we'll be right back. Eat up."

"What?" She rips out of my hold as soon as we're in her bedroom with the door closed.

"You're not bothering me, Gabrielle. None of this is bothering me."

She swallows hard and her breathing quickens. "What?"

"You think you're being some sort of burden, right?" I lean an arm on the dresser beside me and watch her. "You're worried I'm getting sick of making breakfast for Lydia, or spending time with her, or doing her hair. You're worried about that?"

She folds her arms, shrugging. "I would understand if that were the case."

"I'm guessing Josh was fucking useless and even if he was helping, he was an asshole about it?"

Her stare drops, fast.

"I'm not Josh," I remind her, loud and clear because I'm not fucking around with these feelings of hers. "If I didn't want to do breakfast or her hair, I'd be honest. I don't find her a bother, I actually think she's a cool kid. Hear me when I say that no matter what's going on between us, I will not treat her differently. Get it?"

Finally, she lifts her head again and I can see that red rimmed glisten coating her gaze. This is exactly why she's not ready to move on with someone new. She's holding all of this shit from her last relationship and she deserves to be loved, but she also needs to remember not everyone is as fucking pathetic as her ex.

"You're not alone," I say, softer this time. "My help doesn't come with conditions, I promise."

She purses her lips, sniffling and wiping her eyes before her tears have a chance to fall. "That's. . . it's hard to think of someone wanting to help with my daughter, just to help. I mean, Josh would have his moments where he cleaned up and helped with bed time but he always came to collect. You know?"

It takes me a minute but then I realize what she means and I feel sick.

She ducks her head like she's embarrassed for admitting that. "Nothing was done for free, that's all. He was so distant and cold all the time and the only time he did touch me or hug me or kiss me was when he wanted sex. And it ended up being a knee jerk reaction to pull back from his hands, because I knew he was either going to get mad at me for not sleeping with him, or I was going to feel pressured into it even if I wasn't. . . feeling it."

My fist tightens because now her reaction to my question last weekend makes sense. When I'd asked her if she was sure she wanted me touching her.

The look on her face was one of pure disbelief, to the point where I was sure she was about to cry and now I know, it's because she's not used to being given a genuine choice.

"Shit," she lightly laughs and pushes her hair back, cheeks warm. "I have no idea how I ended up talking about all of that. Super off topic. Um, so, sure. I'll stop making a big deal about breakfast. Just, do let me know if it gets tiresome."

She goes to walk past me and open the door but I put an arm out across her chest, grip her shoulder and turn her into me. "If I ever see him again," I threaten, dangerously close to going on a manhunt across Denver. "I'm going to ask him if he wants me to break his fucking hand. And then I'll do it, regardless of his answer."

Her lips part on a barely audible gasp and I know it's the wrong time but I want to kiss that fucking mouth. I can't help it. I want to kiss her all the time.

"We'd better get back out there," I keep looking at her as I reach down for the handle and swing the door open. 'Lydia will be wondering where we are."

She hesitates for a minute, her eyes moving across my face. Eventually, she slips past and I exhale the pent up tension that threatens to crush me when she looks at me with those beautiful brown eyes.

Out in the kitchen, Gabrielle is already making herself a coffee, Lydia has finished her toast and is getting into her school clothes beside the fire. She wears a full thermal set under her sweat pants and hoodie. I notice all the hair products sitting on the floor and when Lydia spots me, she smiles.

"Hair?"

"Yeah, kid. Hand me that magic mist."

She does and comes over to the sofa where I sit down. She plops onto the floor in front of me, facing the kitchen where her mom, her beautiful mom, is watching us while she stirs her coffee.

I'm not sure why I'm the chosen favorite for hair duties, it could be because it takes me so damn long and she gets to have her hair brushed for a good fifteen minutes. I have to be gentle and slow, it's so full of knots after being slept on.

I tie it into a little bun on the top of her head when I'm done and she springs up off the floor and runs to her bedroom to check it over in the mirror. She's not opposed to telling me if it needs to be redone.

To my relief though, she comes back with a smile and gives me a thumbs up. "Okay, mommy's turn."

I go to hand her the hair brush but she doesn't take it and points at me. "You do mommy's hair. You're the best at it."

Gabrielle and I look at each other, both of us frozen like we've just been asked to confess our deepest darkest secrets. I'm not sure either of us can handle that sort of contact right now.

"No, no, that's fine. Nathan has to get ready for work and I can do my hair after a shower."

"But he does it the best," Lydia dances across the living room and into the kitchen where she grabs Gabrielle's hand and starts dragging her over. "You'll love it, mommy. It's so nice and relaxding."

Gabrielle winces at me.

"Nathan likes doing hair. He's like a hairdresser."

Well, I wouldn't go that fucking far but clearly my willingness to do her hair has given her the wrong idea.

Not that I blame her for not realizing how weird it'd be for me to sit here and do her mom's hair. Kids have no idea what the word awkward means.

Gabrielle mouths sorry at me and sits down between my spread legs and faces the kitchen, just as her daughter did a few moments earlier. Fuck, it is what it is. I guess I'm brushing her hair.

"You wanna be the hairdresser assistant?" I ask Lydia who's spinning in circles, as she often does. I hand her the magic mist. "You're in charge of the mist."

With her tongue between her lips, she showers Gabrielle's hair with de-tangler and then, I start brushing. My fingers graze Gabrielle's neck as I sweep her hair back and I watch her little shudder. She likes that. I keep doing it, dragging the brush through her hair, running my fingers across her soft skin. I love how I can see goose pimples on her neck.

Fine, if someone told me I'd be doing this shit in the morning for the rest of my life, I'd take it.