I turn back warily, guilt twisting in my gut for what I'm about to do. I can take anger, but Cleo's expression of betrayal will cut me right down to the quick. I try to convince myself it will be all right if she never forgives me. I will never forgive myself if I don't try.
Cleo traces a finger down the side of Bryan's face, stroking the chubby swell of one cheek. Dark eyelashes flutter against them, but remain closed. The baby's lips form a soft 'o' and he expels an exhausted breath. He has a smattering of dark hair on the top of his head. But aside from that little touch, it doesn't seem like there's a trace of Damian McNeil in the kid's face at all. That's a blessing I suppose. It would be horrific to raise the child who wore the face of your abuser.
"Poor baby," Cleo coos, clutching him close to her chest. "It's been a big day. He's all tuckered out."
“I still say you had the worst of it,” I say with a chuckle. “You were doing all of the pushing. Without an epidural, I might add."
Cleo is pale beneath the tawny cast to her skin. The doctor's say she lost a little too much blood. Not enough to warrant a full transfusion, but enough she'll be shaky and possibly anemic. She's gaunt and is swimming in the oversized hospital gown she's stuffed into. I draw all these facts around me like a shield, bolstering my resolve for what I'm about to do.
"You're moving in with me," I say, leaving little room for argument in my tone. And yet, Cleo argues anyway.
She draws herself up to her full height, indignation flashing in her eyes.
"Ryker, I don't need-"
"Bullshit," I hiss, low and fervent so as not to wake the baby. "Cleo, you need to stop pushing us all away. You're going to need help with this baby. Let me help you."
She purses her full, gorgeous lips as she glares at me. All I want to do is haul her close and taste them. If not for the baby in her arms, I just might have.
"You need to stop this Ryker. Stop torturing yourself. It's not your fault."
I quirk an eyebrow at her once in query. I don't know what the hell she's talking about.
Cleo sighs and nuzzles her face into Bryan's hair once for comfort before she continues. "This guilt trip is unwarranted. Ryker. I know you've been helping me because you feel responsible. You know, for what happened with Damian."
She lowers her voice as if the very mention of his name could somehow still hurt her. Her body cringes into the pillows and I want to drag Damian right up from his grave so I could peel the skin off of his bones. Anger swells like a balloon in my chest until I'm afraid I might burst, shouting at her.
"You think I'm doing this because I feelguilty?"
Cleo's brow puckers and her mouth turns down in a frown. "You feel guilty for introducing us. That's why you've been doing all this, right?"
Did I feel guilty? Exceptionally. Guilty and furious with myself for letting her slip out of my fingers. It would have been one thing to hand her off to someone like Cruz. A bit of a hot-head himself, but with the good sense to keep the anger where it belonged. I could have watched her settle with someone who took care of her, treated her like the goddamn treasure that she was.
But instead, I let her fall into the hands of Damian, a man who wasn't even worthy to wipe shit from her shoe. If I kept her close, this wouldn't have happened.
"Cleo, you're my friend," I say carefully.My whole fucking world,I add silently. "Friends don't let friends live in a rat trap apartment with their new baby. Just move in with me."
Her jaw flexes and I read the refusal before it even comes from her mouth. She opens her mouth to deliver the final no, but I lay my trump card out before she can expel it.
"If you don't, Iwill tell Cruz."
Cleo's mouth snaps shut with an audible clatter of teeth. Her eyes grow round and betrayal flits over her face, twisting my heart. I would not budge though, not when I was making progress.
"You can't," she says.
"I can. You're part of the Spades. And don't give me any bullshit, Cleo. I know that wasn't some amicable chat in the hall this afternoon. Trent is threatening you. Cruz deserves to know that Trent is making threats to his people."
"He doesn't need to know!" Cleo cries, settling Bryan in the small plastic cradle provided by hospital staff. The baby stirs but doesn't wake. Cleo clasps her hands in front of her in a pleading gesture as old as time. "Please tell me you won't, Ryker. He's got so much to deal with already."
"I won't. If you move in with me."
Cleo lapses into silence and I'm convinced that she will say no again when a tiny whisper issues from her.
"You promise?"
"I promise. If you move in, I won't tell a soul. Unless he tries something more serious."
Cleo raises her eyes to meet mine at last and the surrender there is heartbreaking. I really am a bastard, forcing her into this position.
