Page 17 of The Way We Touch

Peeking my head around it, I see her helping Dylan spread fresh sheets over a queen-sized bed. Dylan does most of the work, but to her credit, Kimmie Joy tries.

She puts a large pillow under her small chin, struggling to stuff it into a pillow case.

“Let me help you with that.” I put my suitcase on the floor and walk over to take the pillow from her. “This thing is as big as you are.”

“You can put your clothes in the dresser here, and I’m pretty sure there are extra hangers in the closet.” Dylan shakes a quilt, quickly covering the bed.

I open the closet in the corner and pull the string for the light.

“Shit!” I yell, jumping back from dozens of glassy eyes staring straight at me.

Dolls in different outfits with real hair and freaky eyes stand on all the shelves, like some kind of Child’s Play army waiting for activation.

“Sorry…” I lower my elbow, glancing down at Kimmie. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“It’s okay.” A small hand clutches mine. “My daddy knows bad words, too.”

“Kimmie!” Dylan scolds, quickly swiping the dolls off the shelves and under her arm. “Did you do this?”

“They had to go in the closet, Aunt Deedee!” The little girl lifts her hands to me, and I instinctively pick her up. “They’re always watching me.”

She tucks her face into my neck, and my chest tightens unexpectedly. I haven’t been around little kids much, and to have her turning to me for support this way makes me want to step up for her.

Dylan puts her hand on her niece’s back. “Come here.” Kimmie slides from me to her aunt. “Sorry about that, Logan.”

“Hey, no apologies necessary. I get it.”

Kimmie starts to squirm, and Dylan puts her on her feet. The little girl takes off running down the hall, and Dylan carries the dolls to the door.

“Do you collect those or something?” I’m really hoping she says no.

“No, I was always more into ballerina Barbie, but my aunt would send me one of these every Christmas” She holds up a blonde one. “Kit Kittridge is an American hero.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“You’re saying she’s not?” A tease is in her tone.

“I’m saying I’ll sleep better knowing M3gan isn’t in the closet waiting to murder me in my sleep.”

“She’s supposed to be wholesome.”

“Not with those eyes.”

Dylan bites her lip, fighting a grin. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

“Right now all I need is sleep, but thanks. I will.”

“Sorry again about the whole… ghost-pepper thing earlier.” Her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink, and she’s really something standing in the doorway in her cutoffs with the soft light from the windows shining in her hair.

“I’ll be sure to ask before I eat anything.”

“You were only following my brother’s lead.” Her chin lifts, and she smiles up at me, hesitating.

“What?”

“You’re not what I expected, Logan Murphy.”

“What were you expecting, Dylan Bradford?” I grin, taking a step closer.