Page 43 of Timber Ridge
“About that,” she says.
I’m afraid she’s going to say something that might ruin the moment, like the kiss didn’t mean anything when it meant everything to me.
“It was amazing.”
A smile spreads across my face. “It was that good? No room for improvement?”
“Well,” she continues, a playful glint in her eye, “you could kiss me again, and then I can compare the two.”
I don’t need any more encouragement. I lean in, capturing her lips with mine. This kiss is different—still full of the relief and desire from before, but now there's a layer of playfulness, an exploration. Our lips move together, and I can feel the heat of her breath, and the soft sighs that escape her mouth.
Just as the kiss deepens, promising more, a small voice interrupts. “Daddy? Can I have a bubble bath?”
We break apart, breathless and flushed.
“Of course, Noodle. Let’s have a bite to eat and then I’ll run your bath.” I turn back to Timber, seeing the same mixture of amusement and longing in her eyes. “To be continued,” I whisper, earning a soft laugh.
In the kitchen, Timber quickly whips up some sandwiches and heats up a jar of Eliza’s chicken noodle soup. It’s quick and easy, but perfect for the moment.
After dinner, we settle on the couch to watch a short show with Hailey. Timber sits close, her shoulder brushing against mine. I can't focus on the show. My mind replays the kiss, craving more. The anticipation is almost unbearable.
Finally, I can’t wait any longer. I get up and say, “Hailey, let’s get that bath started.”
Together, we head upstairs. Hailey beats us to the bathroom, turning on the water and dumping in far too many bubbles, but I don’t care tonight.
“Alright, Noodle, let’s wash your hair,” I say, rolling up my sleeves, but Timber looks at my bandaged hands. They are probably in far better shape than I would imagine they’d be, but May’s medicine is always a miracle worker.
“I’ll get the hair, you just relax,” Timber says.
Watching the routine is comforting. Timber washes her hair, rinses off the suds, and wraps her in a fluffy towel. The simple scene seems like a small victory—a return to the life I was so afraid I’d lost.
Once Hailey has brushed her teeth and is in pajamas, she picks out a book for her bedtime story. Timber leans against the door and watches while I sit on the edge of her bed and read. Hailey’s eyes are heavy with sleep, but she fights it.
“And then the princess said…” I read, my voice soft and steady. Hailey’s eyelids droop, and she snuggles deeper into her blankets.
By the time I finish the story, she’s fast asleep. I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Goodnight, Noodle,” I whisper.
Timber and I quietly step out of Hailey’s room, closing the door behind us.
We head downstairs, the weight of the day finally catching up with me.
"I'll clean up the dinner dishes," Timber offers. "You go take a shower."
Reluctantly, I agree, needing to wash away the day's grime and clear my head. I have to keep my hands out of the water because of the bandages, but the sensation of hot water flowing over my body feels amazing. It's a small respite from the day's troubles.
By the time I come back down, Timber has tidied up, and the house is calm and cozy. We head to the couch. As my body sinks into the cushions, she settles beside me. Her presence is comforting, and thoughts of wanting this to last fill my mind.
"Snuggle with me?" I ask, my voice vulnerable. "I don't want to be alone."
"I'm here." She curls into me, her body fitting against mine as if we were made for this. Holding her close, my fingers trace lazy patterns on her back, letting all remaining tension drain away.
Her breath evens out, matching mine, and the world outside these walls ceases to matter. In this quiet, in this moment, I find peace. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges, its own uncertainties, but tonight, I rest in the comfort of Timber’s presence, holding onto the hope that this, whatever it is, can be the start of something beautiful.
I wake with a start, the sound of footsteps thudding upstairs. Timber, nestled against me, stirs, eyes snapping open. Without a word, she hops off the couch and races to the kitchen, starting breakfast.
I heave myself up, my body protesting with every move. My arms tremble and my legs wobble, sending sharp pangs through my muscles. A low, involuntary sound escapes my lips as I finally stand upright.
“Morning,” I mumble, making my way to the kitchen. Timber pulls out the eggs and cracks them into a bowl. I lean in, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. “Thanks for that.”