“Hey Erik,” she started after a beat. “You seeing anyone?”
“You have to ask, you’re not as thick with my sister as I thought.”
“She thought there might have been someone over the winter.”
“Didn’t last.”
“Does anything with you?”
“Geez! I’m doing you a favor—no, favors, multiple favors, Ing. Maybe not the best time to pick on me?”
She continued like he hadn’t spoken. “It’s not so bad, Erik. Loving someone. Being with someone. It’s actually pretty nice. Look at me and Kris. Jen and Sam. Your parents, for heaven’s sake!”
Yeah, look at my parents. Look what happened to them.
His heart clutched in a twist of pain and disappointment, but he didn’t have the heart to correct her perception of them—the Lindstroms had been like surrogate parents to Ingrid. He looked at the ground and noticed a few small shards of glass reflecting off the midday sun, a reminder of Katrin’s failed engagement and asshole stalker.
“Nothing lasts forever, Ing. Look at Kat.”
“Hope you’re not looking at her. She wasn’t what I was talking about when I said it’s not so bad loving someone.”
He caught the edge in Ingrid’s tone. For an instant Erik remembered asking Ingrid to the prom while they were in high school. She’d said no, telling him he was like a brother to her, and although it had smarted for a moment, he agreed with her and turned his romantic eyes to another pretty girl. He’d been hopeful then, a different person, who had still believed in true love and forever and all sorts of wishful nonsense, like husbands who stood by their wives to the bitter end, even when the end was unbelievably heartbreaking. Things had changed. He knew better now. True love only existed in books and movies and if you didn’t want your heart broken, you needed to keep a clear head on your shoulders.
“I know you, Erik,” she continued. “Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am. Leave her be, okay? She’s been through enough. She’s not a fling. She’s a good girl. The marrying kind.”
“And I’m not.”
“By your own admission. Many times.”
Her words hit him strangely, but he didn’t want to linger on it. He didn’t want to think about why it bothered him.
He leaned around and looked through the window again, catching a glimpse of Katrin Svenson moving around her apartment. Her light blonde hair was pulled back in a damp ponytail. She wore blue jeans that cupped her perfect ass, a light-blue fleece sweatshirt, and sneakers. She looked a lot more like a teenage ballerina running away from home than a fully-grown woman about to change the course of her life. Poor Katrin. Poor Katrin. Poor Katrin. He ignored his sweating palms and looked away from her.
“I don’t have any designs on her, Ing. Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay,” she said. “Talk soon?”
The door opened and Kat popped her face out, blue eyes wide. “I worried you’d gone.”
Don’t look at her cornflower eyes. Look somewhere else.
“Just talking to your princess of a sister-in-law. Why don’t you say hello while I load up the trunk?”
He handed Katrin the phone and pushed past her into the apartment where he picked up her luggage, then headed back down the stairs to find room for them in his overstuffed car.
When he looked back up, Katrin was making her way slowly down the stairs, still on his phone. Her face was wet, and she swiped at it with the back of her hand, nodding at whatever Ingrid was saying.
Her family sure was invested in this plan and regardless of the inconvenience, or any distractions, like deep, adorable dimples, he committed—then and there—to take his role as protector seriously. Looking at her, so small and sad, made his chest swell. He’d check out the clinic this afternoon and swing down to Skidoo once a week to look in on her and help her settle in.
She swiped at her nose with the sleeve of her fleece.
Poor thing needs someone to look after her.
As she got to the flagstone at the bottom of the stairs, she lifted her face, and her eyes—watery and bright, bright blue—slammed into his, making it very hard for him to remember what he was thinking the moment before. He felt his lips turn up and when hers did the same, returning the gesture despite her tears, his heart hammered so hard it made him momentarily dizzy. She was the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen in his entire life and if he hadn’t been so busy trying to catch his breath, it would have scared the snot out of him.
“Okay,” she said. “You too. You too, Ing. I know. I know it. I’m grateful. Uh-huh. Who? Oh, yeah, he’s right here.”
She sniffed once, delicately, as she held out his phone. “For you.”
Erik took it from her and put it up to his ear, trying like hell to ignore how warm it was from being pressed against her skin.
“Thank you again, Erik,” said Ingrid in a wavering voice. “You may not realize it, but you’re saving her life today. I’m so grateful to you.”
Erik looked over to see Katrin open the passenger door and sit down, pulling sunglasses from her purse and fastening her seatbelt. In an instant he saw Ingrid and Jenny at three years old, at ten years old, at seventeen years old. He certainly wouldn’t have let anyone ever hurt either of them. He would have gone down fighting before anyone touched a hair on their heads.
“I’ll keep her safe, Ing.”
“Thank you, Minste. I’m trusting you.”
“I won’t let you down.”
Chapter 3
“What does Ingrid call you?”
Erik turned to
