Page 104 of His Stolen Bride

Oisin’s eyes narrow. He’s small, but he’s Morin stubborn when he wants to be. “Gone where?”

I lift my hand, slow, and smooth his hair back. My fingers shake a little. He sees it and goes still.

I keep my hand there anyway. “Gone for good.”

He doesn’t look convinced. He shifts, climbing higher on my chest, and presses his forehead to mine hard enough that it’s almost a headbutt.

It’s his version of checking.

I close my eyes for a second and let the contact hit me fully.

He’s warm. He’s alive. He’s here.

Something inside me gives way without warning. Not a sob. Not even tears yet. Just a crack, deep, like a locked door finally opening. I didn’t know it was still locked.

I didn’t know I’d been holding that much in my body.

Oisin pulls back and studies my face again. “You’re making the sad eyes.”

“I’m tired,” I tell him.

He looks at me like he’s deciding whether that’s allowed. Then he nods once, like he’ll permit it. “Okay. But you’re here.”

“I’m here.”

He relaxes by one degree, then he shifts again and curls up with his cheek against my collarbone like he’s claiming me as a pillow and a shield. I wrap my arms around him and hold him like I’m afraid someone will take him out of my hands if I grip too tightly.

My body aches. My head throbs. My throat hurts.

None of it matters compared to this.

A soft knock comes at the door. Oisin stiffens immediately.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

The door opens a fraction. Sofia peeks in first, eyes cautious, like she’s checking the mood before she steps into it. She spots me awake and her face shifts into relief so fast, it’s almost funny. “Thank God,” she mutters, then catches herself because Oisin is watching. She clears her throat and puts on her calm voice. “Morning, Boss.”

Oisin lifts his head. “You said two stories.”

Sofia’s mouth twitches. “I did, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he confirms, very serious.

“I delivered,” she says, walking in. “Two stories. One snack. One bathroom break. One nightmare about a dinosaur with a gun.”

Oisin looks offended. “It didn’t have a gun. It had teeth.”

Sofia points at him. “That’s even worse. Teeth don’t run out of bullets.”

Oisin considers that, then nods like she’s made a fair point.

Mikhail’s mother comes in behind Sofia, silent as usual, dressed neatly as if there’s no such thing as chaos in her world. She has a tray in her hands. Water. Tea. Something that smells like broth.

She doesn’t rush to my bed or make a show of concern. She looks at me once, reads my face, then shifts her gaze to Oisin. “Off,” she says to him, simply.

Oisin doesn’t want to move. I can feel it in his body. But he also listens to her in a way he doesn’t listen to anyone else.

He sighs dramatically, as if we’re all unreasonable, then climbs off me and sits on the edge of the bed, still touching my arm with one hand like he’s keeping contact. Mikhail’s mother sets the tray down on the side table. She picks up the water first and holds it toward me.