I roll my lips to hide my amusement. He is scattered to fuck.
“You need a nap.” I advise.
“Fuck you, asshole.”
I chuckle, “You’re going to have to call Willow.”
“Absolutely not.” Bast tugs at his hair and then pauses before he reaches for his cell, his thumbs moving across the screen quickly as he types. “I can sort this.”
Hope wiggles on my lap so I pick her back up and reach for one of the blankets on the back of the couch so I can drapeit over her.
He tucks the cell back into his pocket, “What are you doing here anyway?”
Running my finger down the sweet slope of Hope’s nose, I shake my head, “Just checking in.” The lie slips off my tongue.
What the fuck am I thinking? I can’t tell him right now. Not yet.
He narrows his eyes, clearly sensing my bullshit but he doesn’t call me on it.
Eventually, Hope falls asleep in my arms, and Bast sits quietly next to me, somewhat stuck in his own head. When I think silence is the only thing that’s going to happen today, I hear the front door open.
“Bast?”
I know that voice, I hear it in my dreams.
Savannah saunters into the room, impeccably dressed like my hands hadn’t been all over her this morning. Her long blonde hair doesn’t have a strand out of place and any marks left by my fingers are covered by her clothes. She looks rested and bright.
I hadn’t realized I’d frozen on the couch, staring at her until Bast gets up and blocks my view of her, pulling her into a tight hug.
Her eyes meet mine over her brother’s shoulder, a small frown on her brows that disappears the moment Bast pulls away.
“Everything okay?” She swallows nervously, “Whatwas the SOS text for?”
Oh shit. He must have text her when he pulled his cell out. I subtly shake my head at her, letting her know I haven’t told him anything.
Her shoulders relax and her eyes drop to the baby still sleeping in my arms.
“Help me,” Sebastian practically begs, “I need help.”
Her eyes widen, “What is it?”
“Hope,” He cringes, “Fuck, I can’t fucking dress her.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Getting up from the couch, I round it and stop in front of her, pulling the blanket away to show her the mess of her clothes.
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Bast complains, “Help.”
With one more nervous fleeting glance at me, she gently takes Hope and walks back to the couch, laying her down onto the cushions to get a better look. Then she laughs and shakes her head and fixes the clothes in a matter of seconds, popping the buttons where they need to be, without waking the baby once.
“Don’t tell Willow,” Sebastian suddenly blurts as he reaches for his daughter. “She does so much, and I need her to know she can take time away when she needs it.”
“Bast,” Savannah sighs, “It’s okay to need help.Maybe I can take Hope for a night or two? Give you both some rest?”
“Take her, no,” His eyes widen, “Absolutely not.”
