Losing Track (Living Heartwood #2)(83)
I simply nod. “Can I see her? Please?”
A sympathetic frown pulls her lips down, and she nods. “Come on.”
My feet swallow the distance, each step bringing me closer, but it feels like I’m walking in slow motion. The flickering lights above cause me to blink, trying to wake myself from this dream-like, surreal moment.
When she stops at a door, I hold my breath until she pulls it open. And I see Mel lying on the hospital bed.
“He’s going to have to fill out paperwork,” the nurse tells a groggy Melody. “But if I didn’t let him back here, I fear he would’ve had a breakdown.”
A slow smile twists her mouth as I move to her side and take her hand. “Are you all right?”
She raises her eyebrows above deep brown eyes. The red in them making my heart bang painfully against my chest. “I’m fine,” she says, voice raw. “Just wiped.”
I kiss her forehead and brush her damp hair back away from her face. “I’m sorry I’m late. I literally just got the call.”
She laughs. “Well, someone was in a rush, I’ll tell you that. I don’t think they were even going to wait for me.”
I look down at her, my heartbeat finally slowing enough for me to take in her appearance. The flatness of her belly. The tubes in her arms. The light blue hospital gown. Her face is a bit swollen, but she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Until I glimpse the tiny person being carried into the room.
My throat constricts, and I don’t think I have enough room in my soul to encompass all the love filling me.
“Baby,” Mel says. “Meet your daughter.”
The nurse places the sleeping baby girl in my arms despite my awkward attempt to hold her just right. I cradle her head, my arms stretched out before me, until I feel safe enough to bring her close.
She’s so tiny…just so small. So precious. My gaze takes in every inch of her—short dark hair matted to her delicate head; little eyelashes brushing her pink cheeks. Then her eyes open. Bright blue irises gaze up at me, stealing my breath. My own eyes cloud over. I blink the tears back and exhale a wobbly breath.
“Do you have a name picked out yet?” the nurse asks.
I glance up to catch Mel looking at us. Tears are gathered in their corners, and she blinks and wipes them away. She nods to the nurse. “Yeah, we do.” She beams at me. “Darla Hunter Randall.”
The nurse says, “That’s beautiful, Melody.”
Bringing little Darla with me, I sit on the chair beside the bed. Transfer our baby daughter into Mel’s arms, and wrap mine around the pillow to get as close to her as possible. “Ready for this adventure?” I ask her.
“Oh, yeah.” She laughs, and I love the sound of it. So much. “But I don’t think we’re going to get the car seat on the back of your bike. Have another plan?”
I press my lips to the top of her head, and whisper, “For you…always.”
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To yield is forgiveness; follow me down, my friend, To the depths, to the black, the hole in me, Purge, for your loyalty is endless,
Break for her,
Ascend, and be salvation,
Starve, and be redeemed,
For a prayer is not heard,
But a whisper felt, oh, soft caress, Screaming in the void of our decay,
Tears stain, corrode, and beckon evil sprites, The demons do envy, do dream,
Of brimstone and kiss,
Of glass and ice,
A heightened awareness, a pit free of reason, Feel not, fire only consumes,
Taste not, sweetness is deception,
Follow me down, my love, to the void, To the scentless air, free of blame, For who should feel the swift assault, An undercurrent in my sea of waves, crashing, Above the trees, soar the sky, touch the stars, Their fire devours, but no need for air, Rolling, and tumble, back down the hole, Shiny metallic, tangy and wet,
Taste only yearning, make me full,
For my longing overflows, bitter pain, And my wound reopens, torn and salted, Resolve can blind yet heal,
No sacrifice too deep,
Only when selfish hearts break,
Mend and patch, the fissure travels on, Until you see me,
And I burn, lit by your torch.
Thank you to my super human critique partners, who are always there with their mega editing super powers to see me through each project: P.T. Michelle, thank you for reading so quickly, giving me the much needed pep talks, wonderful notes, and for your friendship. Shannon Duffy, thank you for also reading super-fast on this book and for calming me down in my moments of panic, and always, for being a great friend. Rachel Harris, thank you the emails that made me smile, the encouragement, and the valuable input on this book and friendship.
To my amazing beta readers, I could not write books without your brilliance. Honestly, you are amazing! Thank you to: Katrina Tinnon, Naomi Hop, Amber Troyer, Kayleigh-Marie Gore, Pavan Hansra, and Jessica Mangicaro.