He almost laughed, his head bobbing with the indictment. “That right there . . . that is why you should have come here. Need someone else on her side, Leif. Need someone else here, looking out for her. Looking out for those kids.”
Fury raced. “I don’t—”
“Whatever you’re going to say, don’t. Just fucking stay. Don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but whatever it is? Just fucking stay.” Helplessly, he glanced over his shoulder at the door that remained open an inch. “She needs you, and I’m pretty sure I can’t fix what she’s missing.”
“She doesn’t need me.”
Mia’s soft voice floated out, quiet murmurings of reassurance and hope, the tiny cries of her daughter still seeping through.
Lyrik turned back to look at me, eyes pinning me to the spot. “Penny asked for you, Leif. What you do with that is up to you.”
Without saying anything else, he turned and strode down the long hallway, disappearing at the end where the south-wing met the main house. I watched until he was gone, and I warily turned back to the muted movements that echoed from within.
Terrified of what those sounds were coming to mean.
Drawn to them all the same.
Unable to stop myself, I quietly knocked at the wood and poked my head through the door. “It’s Leif.”
Mia’s strained voice called, “Come in.”
I shuffled across the floor, my heart a boulder of dread as I eased up to the bedroom.
A muted glow was cast on the room by a lamp on a nightstand.
The mood both burdened and relieved.
At the side of the bed that ran along the right wall, Mia was on her knees. When she heard the creak of my footsteps, her attention swiveled to me.
Those sable eyes filled with too many things. Things I couldn’t handle. Things I couldn’t bear.
Guilt ripped through the center of me. But it didn’t matter if my duty was screaming at me to turn my ass around and walk away, I inched forward, glancing at the crib on the opposite wall where Greyson was fast asleep, facedown with his butt in the air, wearing just a diaper.
Clinging to that tattered teddy bear he always dragged everywhere.
Blowing out a sigh, I steeled myself as I let my attention drift back to them.
Penny’s black hair was shiny and wet, the child freshly bathed like it could soak away the trauma of the day, strands spread out behind her on her pillow.
Her eyes were puffy and red, salty tears coating her cheeks.
Mia had showered, too, and she’d changed into a thin cotton nightgown. My teeth gritted, and I forced myself to look away, to stop the disgusting direction my thoughts went when this woman had nearly lost her child.
I was sick.
Twisted.
The devil.
And they were both looking at me like I could be their savior.
I roughed an agitated hand through my hair, hanging back by the door. “Hey, Penny. How are you feeling?”
Penny choked over a sob, the dampness in her eyes filling fast, deep, deep pools of onyx that were spilling over. “I’m so sorry, Leif. I didn’t mean to.”
A heavy exhale gushed out of my lungs, and I took a surging step forward before I could stop myself. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“I-I-I . . . I should have looked. It was my fault, and I wasn’t paying attention because I just wanted to have a sleepover at Kallie’s house. I . . . I put you in danger.”
Her mother brushed her fingers through her daughter’s hair, shushing her gently. A quiet sound of embrace and support.
A torrent of love that filled the room.
I beat back the panic, the feeling slithering over me, demons screaming in my ear.
“No,” I managed to tell her through a shaking voice. “You couldn’t have anticipated that, Penny. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Her gaze moved over me, her bottom lip trembling. “You’re hurt.”
Damn it.
I should have taken the time to change but I couldn’t force myself away long enough to do it. “It’s nothing. Just a little roadrash.” I attempted the joke, but it completely fell flat.
Mia cringed, like she couldn’t stand it either, although she remained silent.
Like she was just . . . waiting on me. Trusting me to be there when she didn’t have the first clue that would be her greatest mistake.
My attention jumped around, like I could find a safer focal point than looking at the sight of them.
The definition of beauty.
Goodness and light. Purity and faith.
My gaze landed on another one of those bears like Greyson had, this one a patchwork disaster of pinks that lay on the edge of her bed. I couldn’t help it—a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
“What’s that?” I asked her, desperately needing to change the subject before I went out of my mind.
Before I said or did something I couldn’t take back.