Chapter 6 A Breath Between Us
Adrian's POV
The moment I hang up the phone, I regretted how loud my voice sounded. I wasn’t yelling, but the edge in it cut through the quiet of the house. The conversation still rings in my ears “Darcy stays. That’s final.” I don’t usually speak like that unless it’s business, but something about the thought of another stranger hovering around Hazel made my skin tighten.
I look up and see Darcy kneeling on the floor, her hands still half-buried in Hazel’s toy basket. She’s pretending she didn’t hear a word. I pretend I wasn’t listening to her reaction. For a second, the air feels too tight.
I clear my throat.
“Sorry if that call was loud. Work stuff.”
She smiles without looking at me fully. “You don’t have to explain.”
But I feel exposed anyway. Like she’s seen something I didn’t mean to reveal. Hazel runs toward her, and Darcy catches her mid-tumble like she’s been doing this for years. My daughter laughs full, loud, unrestrained. I can’t remember the last time she sounded so carefree.
I should step back. I should create space. Instead, I stand there watching them like an idiot.
Darcy scoops Hazel into her arms and rises to her feet. “Okay, madam. Bath time again?”
Hazel nods so enthusiastically her curls bounce.
Darcy carries her down the hall, and I force myself to move in the opposite direction. I need distance. I need to get my head straight. I go to the study, close the door, and let my forehead rest against the wood.
I shouldn’t prefer Darcy. She’s temporary. She has a life of her own, dreams, plans. And I well, I’ve broken things before when I’ve held on too tightly. Hazel can’t afford another disappearing act. I don’t let people get close for exactly that reason.
But Darcy walked into this house and somehow rearranged the air. Hazel follows her like a sunflower chasing light. And when Darcy laughs, something in my chest shifts and won’t move back.
When they return, Hazel smells like lavender and bubbles. Darcy’s ponytail is damp at the ends. They both look pleased with themselves, like they’ve survived a small adventure.
“You did her hair differently,” I say, surprised. Hazel’s curls are gathered in a loose puff with tiny clips on the sides.
Darcy beams. “She picked the clips. I just tried my best.”
“It’s cute,” I say before I can stop myself.
Darcy freezes for half a second, then gives a small, shy smile. Something warm flickers between us. I shut it down. I have to.
“Let’s get dinner,” I say, turning away.
Hazel toddles after me. Darcy follows behind with lighter footsteps, but I’m too aware of her presence. Every time she’s near, it’s like my senses sharpen on their own.
Dinner is simple rice, vegetables, and grilled chicken. Nothing fancy. I told the chef to take the day off because Hazel hates when unfamiliar people walk around the house, and Darcy has been handling everything with ease. She even added pepper to the stew the way Hazel likes it.
We sit at the table, Hazel in her booster seat between us. Darcy cuts tiny pieces of chicken for her and blows on each one like she’s been feeding my daughter for years. I try to focus on my plate, but my eyes keep drifting to Darcy’s hands.
She notices, and I quickly look away.
“So,” she says lightly, “you work with your hands a lot?”
I frown. “What?”
She nods toward my right hand. “Your knuckles. They look like they’ve taken a beating. Does it still hurt?”
I look down. The scars are old but obvious. Raising a child alone is one kind of battle; my job is another, less clean one. The last time someone asked me about the scars, I shut down the whole conversation.
But Darcy’s voice isn’t prying. Just gentle. Curious.
“No,” I say quietly. “Not anymore.”
She studies me for a moment, not judging, not digging. Then she nods and returns to cutting Hazel’s food. Hazel babbles something to her, and Darcy laughs. The sound tugs at something inside me I don’t want to name.
I exhale. “It happened a long time ago.”
Darcy looks up, surprised I’m continuing.
“I was stupid. Young. Thought fighting solved things.” My fork scratches the plate. “It didn’t.”
She nods slowly. “But you learned.”
“I had to.”
For the first time in a long while, I feel myself speaking freely. Not completely. Not the deepest parts. But more than I usually say to anyone outside my family.
Darcy says nothing, though her eyes soften. Almost protective. It’s… unsettling.
I shift back in my chair, suddenly aware of the weight of the moment. The openness. The danger of it.
Hazel swings her legs under the table and giggles. Darcy wipes a bit of rice from her cheek.
I pull my walls back up.
“It’s nothing important,” I say, more brusquely than intended. “Just old mistakes.”
Her expression flickers. She doesn’t push. She simply nods and goes back to helping Hazel.
I feel like I’ve stepped forward and backward at the same time.
Halfway through the meal, Hazel starts humming. It’s her happy sound. Darcy hums along, turning it into a tiny melody. Hazel wiggles in delight. I find myself smiling before I can stop it.
Darcy sees it. Her eyes brightened slightly, like the smile meant something. I look away again.
“Adrian,” she says after a moment, her tone gentle but steady, “you don’t have to distance yourself from me.”
The fork pauses in my hand. “I’m not.”
“You are.” She says it softly, without accusation. “But I get it. You’re trying to protect Hazel.”
I swallow. “Yes.”
“And yourself.”
My chest tightens.
“Darcy…”
“I’m not asking for anything,” she says calmly. “I just want you to know I see it. And it’s okay.”
I don’t know what to say to that. She sees too much. She sees through too much.
Hazel babbles loudly, slapping the table with both palms. Darcy laughs and hands her a sip of water. Hazel swallows, smiles and then her face scrunches.
At first I think she’s frowning at the taste.
Then she coughs.
A small cough. Then another. Then another.
I straighten in my seat.
“Hazel?” Darcy leans closer. “Sweetheart?”
Hazel coughs harder, her tiny body shaking with each attempt. Her face turns red. She grabs at her throat, tears springing instantly to her eyes.
My chair scrapes the floor as I stand. “Hazel.”
The cough becomes a violent choke. Her breath stutters. She can’t seem to draw air properly.
Darcy is already lifting her, panic flashing across her face.
“She’s not swallowing right,” she says quickly. “She’s choking..”
Hazel’s coughs turn sharp and desperate, each one worse than the last.
Her chest heaves.
Her eyes water.
Her arms reach out blindly.
And then
She stops coughing.
Her little body is still in Darcy’s arms.
I feel everything inside me drop.
“Hazel?” I choke out, stepping forward.
Nothing. Not even a breath.
“Hazel!”
The room tilts. My heartbeat roars. Darcy’s voice trembles.
“Adrian…she’s not breathing.”