"Okay, stop crying. I'll call the people who will come take care of your mommy," he promised as he shook her outstretched hand.
"Okay.” She looked up at him with wide, scared eyes, and eyelashes spiked by tears, regarding him with wary hope.
“Is this your mom’s car?” He asked while pointing to the black Toyota corolla that was parked a few feet from them. The little girl nodded shyly. He took out his phone again and called his assistant all the while staring at the mother and child.
Something stirred in him, and he had a sudden urge to hold her close, dry her tears and protect her forever. He wanted to make her laugh, make her happy. He settled for squeezing her hand in a reassuring manner, knowing she would not be so receptive to a stranger holding her. In the distance, he heard the wailing of sirens signaling that help was on the way.
For the first time since he drove to a stop, he took a full breath, relaxing his shoulders and easing away the tension he didn’t know he was feeling up until that moment.
?TRINITY?
The insistent beeping at the edge of her consciousness annoyed her like a worsening itch she couldn’t quite reach with her hands to relieve.
She tried to curl away from the sound but found she was too tired to move her body.
I must be very exhausted.Tiredness was the only excuse for her to be lolling around in bed. She was even too tired to stop the damn beeping that was already grating on her nerves.
The intermittent sound did not come from her alarm and she didn't feel any panic associated with noise. Still, if only she could push it away from the bed she was sleeping in.
Bed? Bed?
Trinity remembered the events of the past few days in a rush. Her eyelashes fluttered as the mental image played out.
Getting kicked out..... living in the car.... MacDonald's..... the men.....Miranda!
Her mental desperation was a bare whisper as she struggled to wake up, already terrified of what she would see. She refused to keep sleeping, not when her daughter.....
She opened her eyes to the white room, and with a small gasp, she glanced around, catching sight of the machines beeping away. She turned to the other side sharply, hoping to see her daughter, but the little girl was nowhere to be seen.
“Miranda. Miranda!” she called out, flinching in pain.
Her jaw felt heavy and she almost regretted turning her head so quickly, but the agitation in her thoughts continued to grow by the second when she did not hear the response of her daughter’s voice.
“Hey, you're awake,” came a deep baritone from the foot of the bed, causing her to turn her head again, causing a small wince.
Her confusion and question must have been apparent, but the stranger took a long minute to look her over. Still, that was not the shocking part — who in the world would stare at a woman in a hospital bed with that much intensity?
No. The real question is how bad of a mother am I to take time to ogle a man at my feet when I actually need to be looking for my daughter—
He was handsome with tan skin stretched over elegant cheekbones that sat below the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Even in the low warm lighting, she saw they were silvery gray, and his dark hair was in serious disarray. She had the sudden urge to brush it away from his forehead and stare at that face forever.
Forever?!The word jolted her rational mind to action, and she looked away from him.
In a flood of guilt, she called out for her missing daughter. "Miranda!" In her mind it was a scream, but it only came out just above a whisper. Still, her desperation and panic were hard to miss.
"Please, calm down."
She turned to glare at the stranger, damning the pain.
How dare he tell her to calm down — where was her daughter?
“She's sleeping beside you on the couch,” he answered.
She turned in her bed and caught sight of those familiar curls, her whole body shaking as relief washed over her.
She glimpsed back to the stranger. "Was she…” the words stuck in her throat. "Was she hurt?"
"No."
