The thought had occurred to him more than once. It didn’t seem like the worst option.
He recalled being in the ER. His own voice seemed to be coming to him from far away as he tried to explain to Annika. “The next thing I knew, the ambulance was in the bay. Everyone was scurrying about—normal for the ER. I heard snippets—gunshot wound, child, school shooting—I didn’t think anything of it, past what my job entailed, until they brought her in.” He glanced up, trying to catch a glimpse of Annika’s eyes, but tears pooled, blurring his vision. “I saw her—” his voice cracked and his knees buckled and nausea swept over him as if he was actually seeing her “—on the gurney.” He could barely stand.
“The staff—they tried to keep me from her. But she was my little girl—I had to save her.” He could still feel the strength in the hands and arms that had tried to restrain him—tried to keep him from his Sara. He had easily fought them off, colleagues or no.That was his daughter.“She looked like she was sleeping, but blood—was everywhere. The docs took her right back—I tried to follow, but I heard Sheila screaming for me. Somehow she had heard and came in after the ambulance.” He could still hear her calling out his name. It was one of his recurring nightmares.
“Daniel—where is she? Where is she? Daniel, go fix her. Go fix her! Daniel!”
“I went to Sheila, because I couldn’t let her see—and I knew. I knew—” His voice failed and his body was too heavy and his knees finally gave way as he fell onto them to the cold tile floor. He pressed his palms to his eyes as if he could press away the memory of that vision. “I couldn’t let Sheila see what had happened to our little girl.”
Soft fingers threaded into his hair. Annika skimmed his face with her fingers. Then she was kneeling in front of him. He kept his eyes shut to keep the tears away. He couldn’t look at her.
She spoke so softly, her voice smooth, comforting. “Daniel, I’m so very sorry.”
She took his face in her hands, and at her gentle touch, he broke. He couldn’t fight the tears that he had kept at bay for five years. He kept his hands over his eyes as if he could stop them. But there was no stopping them now.
Annika pulled him closer to her. He rested his head on her shoulder as sobs racked his body. Visions of Sara’s life came at him. Her birth, Sara crawling, toddling, falling, scraping a knee, going to school. All that and now she was gone. He cried for all the things Sara would never do: play soccer, dance, graduate high school, fall in love, get married. His heart broke again for everything that Sara lost, and with her, everything that he had lost, too.
Annika’s fingers were soft and strong, offering soothing comfort. At some point, the waves calmed. Cool hands wiped his cheeks. Daniel hazarded a glance at her. Brown eyes swept across him like a comforting blanket, no accusation, no pity. It looked like love, but he couldn’t be sure.
No one had looked at him like that in a very long time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ANNIKA
ANNIKAHELDDANIEL’Sface in her hands. She used her thumbs to wipe away residual wetness as she held his gaze. The green she loved so much in his eyes was flecked with brown and even black.
He had been holding this inside him for five years. Trying to will it away, forcing normalcy into his life where there simply could be none.
This was why he had held her in the ER. She knew it, as if she’d always known it. He understood her pain. She had felt so empty, so lost after losing her baby. People had expected she would get over it and move on—after all, her baby hadn’t even been born. But she had still felt the loss. Her heart ached for Daniel—he had actually held his child and watched her grow. He had seen himself in her.
“Who took care of you, Daniel? Who was there for you?” A day’s worth of scruff was rough against her hands.
He shook his head, looked away from her and shrugged as if he didn’t understand the question.
“You took care of Sheila.” She couldn’t move her hands from the curve of his jaw. They belonged there.
He nodded.
“Made all the...arrangements, handled the well-wishers. Made sure she ate?”
“That’s what...men...do.”
Realization hit her like a brick. “That’s what your father says.” Anger toward the older man flashed through her, followed quickly by pity, then sadness.
All this time, Daniel had kept his loss to himself. Provided and cared for someone else, never succumbing to his grief.
Until now.
His lips parted. “I’m sor—”
She stopped his apology with her fingers. “Don’t.” His gaze shifted to her mouth. Without thought, she straightened so she could reach him and gently placed her lips on his.
He moved slowly at first. Small tentative kisses, as if unsure what she wanted. She leaned closer to him, opening her mouth to him. His response to her invitation was immediate and frantic. His hands on either side of her head were strong yet gentle, and he pulled her close, moving his mouth on hers as if he were parched and she was water. He tasted smoky like the bourbon and smelled of leather and the outdoors. When he moved his body closer to her, she met him halfway, so not even air could get between them.
He released their kiss and placed hot full lips on the cool skin of her neck and she shivered, a small moan escaping her. She was losing herself in his touch. He pulled back, and Annika had to suppress a whimper. She opened her eyes and found him looking at her, his eyes hooded with desire. He touched his lips to hers again, gently to start, but Annika wanted more, and within seconds her need took over and she took his mouth with hers.
Daniel responded in kind. Every kiss, every touch was fueled by his passion and his grief. She recognized his need tofeelsomething again as it mirrored her own need. She did not resist. She did not want to.
