The idea of her not being here, alive and breathing…I can’t even go there.
I crouch next to the bed, memorizing the pattern of her breathing, reassured by how even it is. I can’t leave her. I can’t move my body away from her. What if she gets worse? What if she stops breathing?
I may be a dumbfuck sometimes, but even I get why I’m so freaked out. Watching my mom get sicker and sicker, finding her cold in her bed, it left scars. Mine aren’t visible like Mia’s, but they’re there, all the same.
I crouch there, counting her breaths, letting them reassure me until Evie’s form fills the open door.
“She’s really ok,” she whispers. The confidence in her voice reassures me. But still, I can’t move.
Her hand lands on the back of my neck, squeezing gently, her lips coming to my ear. “She’s ok, baby. I promise. We’ll check on her lots.”
Her words bring me back to life, and I rise, creaking, slowly backing away, led by the hand on my arm. She guides me to the couch, shoving me gently so I drop. She curls up right beside me, tucking herself under my arm. My shorts, which were laying flat — well flatter — tent again. Evie shakes her head, scrunching up her nose adorably.
“I can’t help it. Fucker has a mind of his own.”
She laughs and tugs the blanket off the back of the couch, draping it over us. I imagined this when I bought it. I ran my hands over every blanket in the store, picking the softest one. Hoping one day I’d get to be under it with Evie.
I’m in sensory overload, but over it all is the overwhelming feeling of rightness. A profound realization that I will do anything I have to in order to keep this. Keep this woman in my arms, keep that little girl in the next room, keep this feeling.
“Well, so much for our romantic date,” she says with a sigh.
I tug her in closer, loving the feel of her curves against me. “This is pretty fucking romantic. But I promise we’ll do the whole thing, first chance we get. The walk along the lake, the food, everything.”
“Unless the weather shifts. The wind here is no joke. Sometimes I swear it’s blowing straight through my head.”
Chuckling, I drop my cheek to the top of her head, my body still wired.
“What? Why can’t you settle?”
“Maybe we can go sit in Mia’s room. So we can see her.” Way to kill the mood, dumbass.
She side-eyes me, then drops her head to my shoulder. “She’s ok. I promise. I have a little experience, you know. I’ve been around sick babies. This is not Mia’s first fever or upset stomach. It won’t be the last.”
“I don’t like it, Evie.”
She fights a smile. “Which part?”
“All of it. Her being sick. Her being out of my sight.” I wish I could keep eyes on her at all times. I jolt forward, a fucking genius idea coming to me. Evie squeaks and slides down my back, landing between me and the couch.
“Thermal imaging. I’ll get one of my guys to bring some cameras. I can wire up her room real quick, then we can see her.”
I move to stand, but Evie wraps me up in a bear hug. She’s back to her fighting weight, but it’s fucking adorable that she thinks she can pin me. I like her fierce. It’s sexy as fuck.
“Don’t you dare. That is complete overkill, Colt.” Her tone turns soft as she loosens her hold. “I would hear Mia whisper my name in a tornado, I swear. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t give birth to her. We are connected.”
There’s that certainty again. I lean on it, letting a little more of my tension out. “I still think the cameras are fucking genius.”
“They are baby, but worried parents have already invented that. You can buy a night-vision camera with video that goes straight to your phone at any baby store.”
“Oh.”
She giggles against my back, giving me a quick bite, which I fucking want her to do again, then pushes herself upright. I settle into the corner of the couch, sliding down, tugging her until she’s draped over me, resting on my chest. We both let out sighs as we relax.
“How would you hear her in a tornado? How does that work?”
She chuckles. “Mothers…well any parent taking on the primary care of babies, but most of the time it’s mothers, are incredibly in tune with their infants, often knowing what they need before the babies even make a sound. And a little tiny squeak from a room away can snap them out of a dead sleep. As an adoptive mom, I didn’t realize I would be the same way, but I am. When she calls for me, I hear her. Every time.”
She scowls. “Little stinker has started coming into my room though, instead of calling for me. I’ll wake up out of a dead sleep and she’s standing there, staring. It’s creepy as hell.”
