More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(35)

Tina knew they couldn’t give a damn about her, but they were appropriately terrified of her friend, who was a sweetheart in her everyday life but a no-nonsense authoritarian in the kitchen.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Tina completed her apology once they were alone, and Libby folded her arms over her chest and stared at Tina for a long moment.

“Having Clara in the office is clearly not working,” she said, ignoring Tina’s apology. “I’m trying to find another solution.”

“No. Libby . . . that’s not necessary. I just—”

“Tina, it’s not fair that you have to work with a crying baby in your space.”

“And it’s not fair that you have to move your infant daughter to a place where you won’t be close to her. We can make this work. It’s only day two. We’ll all get used to the arrangement.”

“Like you got used to having us stay with you that first month?”

Tina’s mouth fell open as she tried to figure out how to respond to that incredibly perceptive question.

“I . . .”

“It’s obvious you’re not too fond of babies, Tina. And that’s okay . . . but I’d rather have Clara around people who love her and enjoy her.”

That hurt so much it stole the breath right out of Tina’s lungs.

“I do love her,” she whispered, horrified that Libby would for a moment think that she didn’t. Libby didn’t look convinced, and Tina swallowed past the massive lump in her throat.

“It’s not just Clara. It’s all babies, Libby. I can’t be around them.”

“What happened to you?” Libby’s question didn’t sound concerned so much as accusatory. “You wanted to be an obstetrician, for God’s sake. And now you can’t even stand to look at my baby.”

Tina hadn’t realized that Libby had noticed that, and it made her feel sick to her stomach that Libby knew. And that her friend had completely misunderstood her reaction to Clara.

“I do love her. She’s beautiful.”

“It’s okay, Tina,” Libby said dismissively, when it so clearly was not okay. “I’ll work something out.”

She turned and walked away before Tina could fully formulate a response.

Tina wrapped her arms around her midriff and swallowed down a sob. God, this was supposed to be their exciting new start. Everything was supposed to get better, but . . . instead, nothing was going right, and Tina’s life looked like it would never get better.

That night, in bed after a long and stressful evening at the restaurant, Tina fell into a restless sleep, and for the first time in months, she had the recurring nightmare that had plagued her for nine years.

She was happy. So happy. The baby in her arms felt warm and perfect. Tina felt bathed in light and love, and everything in her world was finally wonderful again.

Sunshine. Warmth. Laughter. Love.

And so much happiness.

She held the baby close. She would never let him go. He belonged in her arms, and she loved having him there.

She looked down and he smiled at her. A beautiful smile. She shivered when the sun slid behind a cloud and looked up. The cloud was massive. Pitch black and stretching from one end of the horizon to the other, it covered the sun and left everything cold and dark and miserable.

She instinctively held the baby close, but her arms were empty . . .

He was nowhere to be found. She looked around for him. But he had vanished. It was getting darker, making it impossible to see. She called out to him.

But there was nothing. No sound at all. As if the black cloud had muffled all noise. She called him again . . . but even her voice had gone. She screamed until her throat felt lacerated, but there was never any sound.

Harris woke with a start. What the hell was that? It sounded like an animal in pain. He tilted his head, not sure if he had dreamed the noise, when it came again, louder than before.

“Fuck!” He leaped out of bed and slammed out of his room. The kitchen light was on, but there was no sign of Greyson.

The scream came again, and he made a panicked sound in the back of his throat as he fumbled with the front door locks before yanking it open and running the short distance to Tina’s place.

He banged on her door and yelled her name, but she didn’t respond, just screamed again. It sounded like she was being murdered in there, and it made him frantic. Without giving his actions any thought, he slammed his shoulder into the door—it didn’t budge, and he was left with a bruised shoulder for his trouble. He pounded his fist against the wood again before going around the side of her house and checking windows. The living room window was slightly ajar. He pushed it open even farther and climbed through. He then stumbled around in the dark, slamming into furniture as he felt his way to the kitchen counter.

It was easier to navigate from there. The place had the same layout as his, only with a shitload more furniture, and he seemed to hit every piece on his way to where he knew the larger bedroom should be.

She wasn’t screaming anymore, but she was crying. Painful, devastated sobs that broke his heart. He cursed himself for not bringing his phone—the flashlight would have been handy—but he eventually made his way to her door, opened it, and stepped into her bedroom. Her bed, like his, was pushed directly against their shared wall, which explained why he had heard her cries so clearly. She had a night-light: a tiny little globe plugged directly into a wall socket. One of those he knew parents used for scared children. There was a pretty little ocean scene in the globe, and it cast a restful blue reflection onto the wall.