Kiss the Stars (Falling Stars #1)(94)

“I’m sorry, baby brother.”

“Is okay.” He slumped back against my chest with a little whine, and I continued pacing, my arms aching like mad. Rocking this child at his age didn’t come close to rocking an infant.

The door edged open, and my heart did that stupid, beautiful thing, racing out to meet him when he warily walked inside. “Hey . . . how’s he doing?”

“I gots sick, Weif.” He waved a pitiful hand.

I almost smiled with the love that overflowed.

My sweet, sweet boy.

I ran my hand through his hair, trying to give him comfort while I glanced at Leif, offering him a soft smile to let him know that Greyson would be just fine.

He didn’t need to worry.

That I was sorry our dinner date got cancelled but this was my life.

And my kids . . . my kids would always come first.

Would always be the most important.

The problem was, we hadn’t even scratched the surface of how that might make him feel.

How the reality of it might bite and sting.

I kissed Greyson’s head when he whimpered, trying to shift around his weight.

Leif moved forward and ran his hand down Greyson’s back. “Here, let me.”

I wavered. It wasn’t like he hadn’t picked him up before. Usually when they were wrestling or Greyson was taunting him in some fashion. But this? This felt . . . different.

Bigger.

Scarier.

Profound in some important way.

But it was Greyson who reached for him, climbing into his arms. “I gots you,” he mumbled, like he was the one holding Leif and not the other way around.

I stood there, fidgeting, not quite sure what to do.

But Leif did.

He curled his arms around my son and hiked him higher on his chest. And he began to roam. Pacing and rocking. Cooing and singing.

Words I couldn’t make out but sounded of the saddest melody.

It didn’t take long before Greyson settled.

Before he found comfort in those strong arms.

Leif pressed kisses to the top of his head and rubbed his back and whispered magical things.

My chest squeezed.

Heart in a fist.

Hope in its clutch.

I tucked Penny into bed while Leif continued to soothe Greyson into slumber in the main room.

I kissed my daughter’s forehead, touched her chin. “Goodnight, my sweet Penny Pie.”

I could feel her hesitating, wanting to say something but not sure how to speak.

I sank down onto my knees next to her. Giving her the time she was asking for.

She gazed up at me. “Are you happy, Mom?”

My mind flashed.

Every blessing.

Every joy.

I glanced out the door to where Leif was cradling Greyson.

My spirit sang.

Turning back to her, I tenderly brushed my fingers through her hair. “I am. Are you?”

She nodded fast. “I think . . . I think we should stay here forever.”

Joy collided with the questions.

A whole new brand of what-ifs.

Ones that were racing out ahead of me. Waiting on us to catch up. Mixed with that was the worry that Leif’s grief might cut too deep and be far too vast. Scariest was the way he talked about seeking vengeance as if it were a real plan.

I spread my hand out on her chest, over the quick beat of her innocent, knowing heart. My voice dipped in quiet significance, “I’m not sure where we’ll end up at, Penny. Where our home is going to be. But just know wherever that is? We’re going to find happiness there. We’re going to live the life I always dreamed of giving you.”

Belief tipped her mouth into a soft, half-smile. “You’re already giving us that, Mom. I hope you know that.”

Joy and pride flooded my eyes, and I leaned in, hugged her tight. “I love you so much, my miracle girl.”

She nodded into my hair. “I love you to the moon and back.”

Little did she know my love was way out, soaring with the stars.

Endless.

Boundless.

Eternal.

Footsteps creaked from the doorway, and I pushed myself to standing and swiped the tears under my eyes.

I did my best to put myself back together.

But my emotions were all over the place.

This feeling coming on stronger every day.

Brown-sugar eyes met mine.

Carefully.

Purposefully.

I’d once thought they were the only thing about him that hinted at softness. I should have known immediately they were a dark sea of compassion. An ocean of humanity. A bridge to his dark, brilliant soul.

“He’s out,” he grumbled so tenderly, so softly I nearly dropped to my knees right there. “Think his fever broke.”

I could only nod, watch as he lay my son into his crib, as he ran his hand over his head, made sure he was safe and warm and comfortable.

It just got worse when he moved over to Penny, bent down, kissed her temple, and whispered a low, “Goodnight,” even though she had already drifted to sleep.

Then he straightened.

Straightened to his full, imposing height.

His gaze captured me.

Froze me to the spot.

Bound me in his intensity.

I wanted to speak, but my tongue was stuck, and even if I could find my voice, I knew the words would never come out quite right.