I roll my eyes.
Not funny at all.
Wiping snot from my nose with the back of my hand before rubbing my eyes to life, I ask the same question that has been echoing in my mind. “WhereisClay?”
I’m tired—I’m tired and just want to go home, to be with Sir. Be soft and vulnerable in his arms. Let the Mumma Bear inside me sleep. Let herfucking hibernate!
“He, uh, had a pretty good chunk of car in his side, apparently, but he’s fine, girlie. He’s a Butcher. Built like a tank. Stubborn as a horse. You know he would be here. Butch made him accept help. Big brother was leaving a trail of blood everywhere he went. He’d be sitting here slowly bleeding out if he had his way.”
“Healwayshas his way.”
“Not when it comes to Dad,” Xander states with a single chuckle. “Dad’s the boss, girlie. Don’t forget that.”
I nod, but the imagery comes in gruesome waves—Sir unconscious and bleeding out in some other part of the hospital, wrestling with orderlies for the right to walk down the hall, refusing painkillers because he thinks they dull his instincts.God, I love that man.
“Can I see him?” I ask.
I want to see him.
“Even if he has to crawl, he will be here soon,” Xander says. “Butch is with him now, making sure he doesn’t move until they get the Xray back.”
I smile a little, relief filling the hollow in my belly. I gesture-nod towards my babies. “You haven’t seen them since they were eight weeks old.”
Xander stands and goes to the cots, peering in like a kid examining a litter of puppies. “Less wrinkly than I remember. They look like fucking Cabbage Patch Kids. They’re perfect. You sure you didn’t get these from a boutique?”
“Made them myself.”
“They arespectacular.”
I beam. He’s right; they are spectacular.
I did a good job—my body did a good job.
Woah, that’s a huge development. I have to take a moment as that thought settles into me. Making peace with my body and all it has been through, loving it, even? Feeling my skin, wiggling my toes, being present in myself, I smile. Not so long ago, I didn’t trust my body, didn’t think I could be spectacular or impressive like the other Butcher girls. Cassidy is a professional ballerina, Shoshanna is a doctor, and Kaya is an heiress, so I thought I would never be enough for the likes of Clay Butcher.
But I madethem.
I made his perfect little heirs. Not one, but two.
I remember Clay saying, ‘You couldn’t be ordinary if you tried.’ He saw something in me I never did, that the entire world was blind to. So right now, in this moment, after the car crash, the hostage situation, I see what I am. What he always said I am—a survivor. I am a little deer whosharpened her teeth on concreteto join the wolves. For the first time—perhaps ever—I feel worthy of the title Mother, prepared for the last name Butcher.
My forehead tightens as another name drops into mymind. “Eleanor?” As I say it, I wait for a pinch of grief. It doesn’t come.What does that say about me?
“Shot by a police sniper,” Xander answers, though I know what happened; I was there. And that is a lie.
I look at him. Blink. “It wasn’t the police.”
A slow smile spreads across his lips. “Well, that’s not what the news is reporting. Saying it was a hero cop. As if any cop has a shot that fucking straight. Through the heart? From that distance?Fuck me, big bro must have been a bird of prey in another life with that damn aim.”
A smooth, deep voice drifts in from the doorway, and my bones hum. “As a Catholic, you really shouldn’t be spouting reincarnation theories.”
“Sir.”
I leap up from the bed, all the strength I’ve hoarded spilling out as I rush to him. I wrap my arms around his waist, collapsing against his solid frame.
“Sweet girl,” he rasps, lifting me until my legs circle his hips, my arms cling to his shoulders and neck, my fingers tangle in his hair. I want to disappear into him.
You can let go now, Fawn.
