“If you knew someone going through what you just described, someone who was being a dying person’s sole support…what would you say to them?” she asked.
“I’d tell them to do the best they could and savor each moment,” he said. “I’d tell them to try to find humor together in small things. And I’d remind them to take care of themselves, too.” It dawned on him why she’d asked the question as he heard his own response. “And you’re wondering why I don’t give myself that same advice.”
“No,” she said. “Just observing how hard we are on ourselves and how much softer we are on others, especially when someone we care about is going through hell.”
He barked a laugh. Yes. He could relate. “I’m still not letting myself off the hook.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “No judgment here.”
Blaize sat there for a long moment, letting those words really sink in. They’d been gone for a while, longer than he intended. “We should really get back to Kit and the baby.”
“Okay.”
He didn’t realize he’d tensed up so much before her response until he exhaled. With Lynn, almost everything became a challenge or an outright fight. Carys’s demeanor had a calming effect on people, on him. Even when they stood close and his body was an exploding minefield of electricity and need, he felt a sense of peace that was foreign.
Growing up in a battleground with Cormac, then with Lynn’s bipolar disorder, he’d gotten used to always being ready for a fight.
Carys drove them to the house since the damage on her car was thankfully just cosmetic. Frustrating as all hell, but nothing a good dent-repair shop couldn’t handle. Mechanically, the car was sound. Tires were good. He’d half feared the attacker would return and rupture them. Too risky?
Damned if he wasn’t already thinking about the kiss from yesterday again. How it was unlike any others.
They pulled up. Carys parked next to his Jeep. Both vehicles could use a good hosing off.
“I can find someone to fix the damage to your vehicle,” he said after opening her door for her. It looked as though someone had taken a baseball bat to it.
“Thanks, but I can look up a place just as easy.” She held out her phone. “You can find almost anything on one of these.”
“And have it delivered,” he joked. “Just not out here.”
“Leaving the city was definitely an adjustment,” she said.
“Why did you come all the way out here to Maverick Pass?” He opened the back door for her after unlocking it.
“For a job. They aren’t exactly easy to get.”
“Austin can be a tough place to find work, but the medical options are standout,” he said. There would come a day when he didn’t know who the best bipolar doctor was or bone-cancerspecialist. A year had passed since Lynn’s death, and he still checked his calendar for appointments out of habit.
“The job market was brutal, even for the kind of work I do.”
They entered the kitchen. He listened for sounds coming from the bedroom. Kit had insisted on having Rue stay with her.
“Blaize!” Kit hollered.
And then the baby wound up and wailed.
Heart in his throat, he blew past Carys. The door was still locked, but this old house would be easy to break into. All the latches and locks were too old. Hell, the windows were ancient. No one expected crime all the way out here.
“Are you—”
He stopped midsentence the second he entered the doorway, rushed to Kit, who was lying on her side and curled into a ball.
“What happened?” he asked before taking a knee beside her. He scanned her for obvious signs of injury—blood or a bone sticking out through her skin. He couldn’t find anything from this angle.
He could barely hear himself think over the crying baby. Carys was there in the next second, picking up the little girl and offering a soothing tone.
“I’ll take her into the next room,” she said before disappearing. Her voice might be calm, but panic was written all over her features.
“Can I help you sit up?” he asked Kit when the crying subsided.
