Free Sinful by Joan Johnston

their direction, afraid he would incite another bout of crying.
    Eve patted the bed and said, “Come join us.”
    Connor managed to unroot his feet and sat beside Sawyer, who was perched on the bed to Eve’s left. Brooke was still sitting on Eve’s lap.
    “Now tell me,” Eve said as she grabbed another Kleenex and dabbed at Brooke’s swollen eyes. “What was all that crying about?”
    “We were scared,” Brooke said, darting a glance at Connor from beneath tear-drenched, spiky eyelashes.
    “Of what, little one?” Eve said, patting the tip of Brooke’s nose with her forefinger.
    “We were all alone,” Sawyer blurted.
    “You slept in separate bedrooms at Nana and Bampa’s house,” Eve reminded them.
    “This isn’t Nana and Bampa’s house,” Brooke pointed out.
    “No, it isn’t,” Eve said with a laugh of agreement. “It’s your father’s house. It’s where you’ll be living from now on.”
    “Do we have to stay here?” Brooke asked plaintively.
    “I want to go home,” Sawyer said.
    Connor said nothing. His throat was swollen too tight to speak. His children felt
alone
even with him—their father—in the house. It was his own fault for not staying in closer touch with them during the nine months after Molly’s death, while he finished his tour of duty. Brooke was too young to remember much of the life they’d led as a family before Molly died, and it was likely Sawyer had no memory of him before Molly’s death at all. He’d known this period of adjustment wasn’t going to be easy, but he hadn’t thought it would be this hard, either.
    “It’s too late to go anywhere tonight,” Eve said, suggesting by the way she’d phrased her statement that the children might be allowed to go home in the morning.
    He opened his mouth to make it clear they were here to stay, then shut it again. A day at a time. That was how he was going to become their father again. Tomorrow he could come up with another reason to delay their departure, and another reason on the day after that. Soon, he prayed, they would stop asking to leave.
    “Can I sleep in Brooke’s bed tonight?” Sawyer asked.
    Eve shot an inquiring look in Connor’s direction.
    He saw Eve’s slight nod suggesting that he agree. “I suppose that would be all right.” He’d put a queen-size canopy bed in Brooke’s room, because he’d liked the girly way it looked on the showroom floor. He’d put bunk beds in Sawyer’s room, thinking of the fun his son would have climbing up and sleeping on the top bunk when he was older.
    “Let’s get you both under the covers,” Eve said, standing and sliding Brooke upright until her bare feet hit the floor.
    Connor had put both kids in long john pajamas to be sure they’d be warm enough. He hesitated, then reached over to lift Sawyer into his arms as he stood. While Eve helped Brooke get settled under the covers, Connor walked around to the opposite side of the bed. Sawyer kept his arms tucked in front of him, separating their bodies, until Connor gently eased him onto the bed and reluctantly let him go.
    His son scooted toward his sister, so the two of them ended up lying next to each other in the center of the bed. Connor sat down beside his son, tucking the covers under Sawyer’s arms as Eve did the same for Brooke. Then Eve leaned over and kissed eachchild on the forehead. To his surprise, Brooke caught Eve’s face with both hands and pulled her close to brush her eyelashes against Eve’s cheek in a butterfly kiss.
    Connor knew what it was because, once upon a time, he’d been the beneficiary of those kisses, which Molly had taught to his daughter. He felt Sawyer’s hand wrap around his thumb and pull and turned his attention back to his son. Sawyer kept tugging and Connor leaned in until Sawyer caught him by the ears and pulled him close.
    He felt Sawyer’s cheek against his own as the two-year-old tried to mimic his sister. His son’s lashes weren’t long enough to administer a