At least she’d let him hold her. He needed that. It wasn’t just the pregnancy announcement that had shaken him. It was everything that had come before with her almost being kidnapped.
His arm around her tightened.
He needed to know who the asshole was so he could rip him to shreds. Maybe that was why Eastern had kept the information about Hamish’s father being a Marine from him. Because literally all the fucking signs pointed to it being him now. He fit the description of the guy. Same height. Same body type. And just because someone appeared non-threatening didn’t mean they were.
He tried to close his eyes. To get a whisper of sleep, but a noise had his eyes shooting back open. It was a whimper. So quiet he almost didn’t hear it.
Was Callie awake and upset? He held his breath.
Another whimper, this time louder, followed by a turning of her head into his chest.
“No,” she gasped.
Lock frowned, his muscles flexing.
“Oh God, no!”
Jesus, she sounded terrified.
“Lock…I need you!”
His heart squeezed so tight it was painful.
He rolled Callie over so she was on her back, but her eyes didn’t open. Her head started to thrash from side to side, tears streaming from her eyes.
Fuck, he had to wake her. “Callie.”
Her head kept moving as she panted beneath him, the air whipping in and out of her lungs.
“Callie, honey, wake up.”
Her eyes tightened, and for a moment he thought she might have heard him. Then she whispered, “Daddy…I need help!”
Lock’s skin iced. She was dreaming about the night she’d lost the baby. He hadn’t answered her call, so she’d called her father. He didn’t need her to wake up and tell him for Lock to know that.
He lowered his head so his mouth was near her ear, and whispered, “I’m here, C. Wake up for me.”
He repeated those words three times, and slowly her movements stilled, the rise and fall of her chest slowing.
“Wake up for me,” he repeated, voice soft, words just for her.
It took a few more seconds for her eyes to slowly open. But even then, they were glazed, like she wasn’t really seeing.
She blinked. Once. Twice. On the third blink, she looked at him.Reallylooked at him, as if she was finally seeing him. “Lock.”
“You’re safe.”
Her brows drew together, another rise of her chest before she pushed the blankets down and straddled his lap, digging her face into his chest.
The silence was thick as he stroked her back, the need to soothe her like a living, breathing beast inside him. Every part of him wanted to erase the past. Make it better. Easier. But he couldn’t do that. He would never be able to do that.
“How often does that happen?” he whispered.
“Not as often as it used to.”
“Tell me about it.” It would kill him, but he wanted to know exactly what she was remembering.
“I wake up bleeding. I try to call you. You don’t answer, so I call Dad.” She nuzzled her face deeper into his chest.“Sometimes I almost swear I’m back there, living the nightmare all over again.”
