Worth It (Forbidden Men, #6)(21)

“Wait. What?” Eva pulled out of Pick’s embrace so she could frown between the two of us. “What did I miss? You mean, Knox took Zoey to the hospital? How did those two even meet?”

“All part of the million and one things I need to update you with,” Pick answered.

She grabbed his arm. “Well, then come into the kitchen with me, because I want to be updated right-freaking-now.”

Pick chuckled but followed her wishes.

As I was left alone with Skylar, I turned my head to sniff her dark hair, wishing it were red. She sighed in her sleep, all her little muscles relaxed as she rested so trustingly against me. I was able to give back a little of my own trust, and the tight coils inside me loosened. I closed my eyes and continued to stroke her head.

The soft hair under my fingers brought back memories. When sleep snuck in around me, it was the first thing I dreamed about, my hands buried deep in rich red hair. Long dark lashes fluttered before blue eyes opened to peer at me with an expression of warmth that filled me with a joy I’d never felt before.

The peaceful, binding sensation followed me as I looked around at the forest surrounding us, the chirp of birds soothing more of my soul. Finally feeling at home for the first time in too long, I reached for a hand I would recognize anywhere, and smooth, familiar fingers tangled with mine.

Life was perfect, until someone nudged my shoulder. “Hey, Parker. Tink has some lunch ready for you.”

I blinked awake and started to shift upright in the chair until the weight in my arms alerted me to the fact I was still holding Skylar. “Sorry,” I mumbled, bringing her off my shoulder and down into the cradle of my arms. “I must’ve dozed off.”

Instead of feeling more tired as I usually felt after a rest full of nightmares, I felt refreshed, and I realized it’d been because I’d had a nice dream. A dream about her.

My gut clenched. I hadn’t dreamt about her in years, unless it was a nightmare where something bad was happening to her.

“Not a problem,” Pick told me. “I fall asleep all the time when putting them down for naps.” He bent over me and took the sleeping infant. “I’ll put her to bed so you can head into the kitchen. Eva whipped up a sandwich and some soup for you.”

My stomach gave another grumble, so I pushed out of the rocker. Julian was seated in a high chair demolishing a plate of sliced bananas and raisins, eating a few as well. When I paused in the entrance, Eva glanced up from where she was ladling soup into a bowl at the stove.

She smiled. “Take any seat you like, though I warn you, if you sit too close to Julian, you’ll probably end up sticky and gross. He tends to fling food.”

I sat next to the kid anyway, because the seat closest to him looked like the most inconspicuous, out-of-the-way spot between the table and the wall.

Julian paused in the middle of smashing a piece of banana into his plate. Then he picked up the mutilated chunk and held it my way, as if making some kind of peace offering.

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

Eva chuckled and set the soup and sandwich in front of me. “Pick always offers him a bite off his plate, so I think Julian assumes sharing food is an expected course of etiquette now.”

I tore off a crustless piece of the grilled cheese Eva had made me, and offered it to Julian. He took it gracefully and then shoved it not-so gracefully into his mouth before sending me a big grin.

“And your male bonding is complete.” Eva slid into the chair across from me, and even though she sent me a warm smile, it made me tense.

Bonding with her children was one thing. Getting cozy with her was quite another. And I realized exactly why a moment later while she watched me dip my crust into the tomato soup to take my first bite.

“Pick says you didn’t have that scar before you were arrested.”

And here came the reason adults were so much more complicated. They asked questions you didn’t want to answer. Though to be honest, my scar was the last topic I thought she’d attack.

I touched the area briefly. “No.” My gruff answer put out the warning signals, cautioning her not to go there. “I didn’t.”

But she did, anyway. “Did you get it when you killed those two men in prison?”

I gazed at her steadily, refusing to answer. All the while, in my mind’s eye, I saw the crudely crafted blade slashing toward me, felt the sting of the tip as it sliced open my flesh, tasted the blood as it dripped into my mouth.

“So it’s a story you don’t wish to share.” Eva nodded respectfully. “I have a couple of those.” But instead of leaving me be, she kept on. “Pick says you look totally different, much bigger, buffer. And you talk gruffer. You even walk different, with a bit of a limp.”

Remembering the distinct black sole of the boot that had hurled at me right before it kicked in my windpipe and crushed it, and the pain in my leg when they’d stabbed that, I cleared my throat and concentrated on swallowing down a dry piece of toast.

“I lifted weights a lot to help pass the time,” I said, feeling as if I needed to give her some kind of response, or she’d just keep pestering.

She smiled big. “I figured you weren’t the type who liked to stay idle.”

“No, ma’am.”

With a nod, she added, “Maybe you’d like to help me carry some boxes of old baby clothes down to my car once you’re done eating then.”