Instant Gratification (Wilder #2)(84)
With a sigh, he stood and headed toward the stairs. Each night he sat with Miracle as she visited her Mama before bed. Her childish voice would detail every second of her day to an unresponsive Eppie. One day perhaps, it would be more than a one-sided conversation.
Micah knew exactly how many breaths she took each hour. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, waiting and hoping. The hell of it was, he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. Micah wasn’t ready to let her go but seeing her trapped between two worlds was killing him. He missed her, he loved her and dammit all, he wanted to see her open her eyes again.
It had been a true blue miracle the baby survived the trauma to its mother’s body, even more amazing was that the child was born healthy and perfect. When she was pregnant, watching Eppie had become a habit because he could watch his child. Their child. The baby made from a love that shouldn’t be, but was. Miracle had been active, sometimes for hours at a time. During that six month period, Micah never got tired of sitting by Eppie’s bedside and watching, placing his hand on her belly, telling them both he loved them.
Micah wanted so many things, but the two that burned down deep in his gut was the fact he wanted to convince Eppie to marry him and he wanted to tell her he loved her. He’d been hesitant of revealing his feelings before, afraid of being rejected, of losing what he could have.
Regret was something he knew well, ate it for breakfast, lunch and dinner each day. It brought him nothing but misery yet it was still his constant companion.
He entered Eppie’s bedroom and was immediately awash in her scent, that unique smell that always made his heart beat faster. A gas lamp burned on the side table, bathing her in a golden glow. Just being in the room with her made him feel better.
She still looked beautiful, even if she’d survived for nearly three years on broth, milk, and water. Micah knew every inch of her body from the adorably crooked little toe to the sweet spot behind her right ear. He ran his fingers down her cocoa colored cheek, the skin as smooth as her daughter’s.
“Hey there, Eppie girl.” He sat down in his usual chair and put her hand in his. Squeezing the limp fingers, he started talking of Daisy and Miracle’s antics. “That crazy dog actually came back and started digging when I was fixing the damn hole. Miracle wasn’t happy about tying her up but she did it anyway. She’s a good girl.”
“Who’s a good girl?”
Eppie’s voice, long since unheard, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
“Jesus Christ.” He jumped out of the chair, knocking it backwards a good three feet, along with his stomach. Micah looked down into the eyes of the woman who held his heart. “Eppie?”
She blinked and glanced down at herself, then back at him. “Why am I lying in bed? Have I been ill?”
“Are you really talking to me, honey?” His heart slammed into his throat as it pounded so hard, even his bones vibrated. “Eppie, oh my God, tell me I’m not dreaming.”
“I’m not sure who you are or why you’re in the bedroom with me, but I’m fairly sure you shouldn’t be calling me honey.” Eppie cocked her head and narrowed her gaze. “Who are you?”
And keep an eye out for the latest from Shannon McKenna,
TASTING FEAR, coming next month from Brava…
Liam sounded exhausted. Fed up. She didn’t blame him a bit. She was a piece of work. Her mind raced, to come up with a plausible lie. Letting him see how small she felt would just embarrass them both.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she whispered.
He let out a sigh, and leaned back, leaning his head against the back of the couch. Covering his eyes with his hands.
That was when she noticed the condition of his hand. His knuckles were torn and raw, encrusted with blood. God, she hadn’t even given a thought for his injuries, his trauma, his shock. She’d just zoned out, floated in her bubble, leaned on him. As if he were an oak.
But he wasn’t an oak. He was a man. He’d fought like a demon for her, and risked his life, and gotten hurt, and she was so freaked out and self-absorbed, she hadn’t even noticed. She was mortified.
“Liam. Your hand,” she fussed, getting up. “Let me get some disinfectant, and some—”
“It’s OK,” he muttered. “Forget about it.”
“Like hell! You’re bleeding!” She bustled around, muttering and scolding to hide her own discomfiture, gathering gauze and cotton balls and antibiotic ointment. He let her fuss, a martyred look on his face. After she’d finished taping his hand, she looked at his battered face and grabbed a handful of his polo. “What about the rest of you?”
“Just some bruises,” he hedged.
“Where?” she persisted, tugging at his shirt. “Show me.”
He wrenched the fabric out of her hand. “If I take off my clothes now, it’s not going to be to show you my bruises,” he said.
She blinked, swallowed, tried to breathe. Reorganized her mind. There it was. Finally verbalized. No more glossing over it, running away.
“After all this?” Her voice was timid. “You still want to…now?”
“Fuck, yes.” His tone was savage. “I’ve wanted it since I laid eyes on you. It’s gotten worse ever since. And combat adrenaline gives a guy a hard-on like a railroad spike, even if there weren’t a beautiful woman in my face, driving me f*cking nuts. Which puts me in a bad place, Nancy. I know the timing sucks for you. The timing’s been piss poor since we met, but it never gets any better. It just keeps getting worse.”