The Resurrection of Wildflowers (Wildflower #2)(63)

“Look at you, precious one. So little. Your brothers are going to adore you.” She lifts her gaze to her sister and brother-in-law. “Do the boys know yet?”

Georgia smiles, shaking her head. “No, we thought we’d surprise them tomorrow when they come to visit.”

“They’re going to be so excited.” Salem turns to me. “They wanted a sister and were a tad disappointed it was another boy.”

Georgia laughs, rolling her eyes. “Disappointed? Jackson, our oldest, fell to the ground crying when we told him.”

Michael rubs her shoulder. “They’re going to think we lied to them.”

“We all got played with this one.” She points at the baby. “Only a few hours old and she’s already giving us a run for our money.”

“How are you feeling?” Salem asks her. “How was labor?”

“Once I got my epidural it was fine and dandy.”

Salem shakes her head in amusement, still rocking the baby. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Me?” I ask shocked.

“Go ahead,” Georgia encourages.

Salem passes the baby to me. She looks so tiny in my arms. Like a little potato or something. Her small pink lips are parted in sleep, her eyelids a light shade of blue. One little fist is curled up by her face, having escaped the swaddle she’s in.

There’s a loud sniffle, drawing my attention to Salem. She sobs openly watching me hold the baby. I don’t ask her what’s wrong. I can see it written all over her face. She’s thinking of Seda and what could have been. I want to tell her not to cry, that it’s in the past, but I think she needs to feel this. I want her to let her pain go.

I hold the baby a little longer, until she starts to stir. She’s probably hungry so I hand her to Georgia.

“We better be going.” Salem hugs her sister, kissing her cheek. “It’s late and you need to rest and love on your new baby. Let me know if you need anything. Especially now that this sweetie is a girl, not a boy.” She lightly taps the baby’s nose.

Georgia beams at the newborn in her arms. “I wouldn’t mind a few new outfits. All I have is boy stuff and I’d like something cute to bring her home in.”

“You got it. I’ll bring a few options.” She hugs her sister again and then we’re headed out of the hospital.

We exit through the emergency room since that’s where I parked.

She sighs when she sees my truck, a frown marring her lips. “I’ll have to get a new car.”

“Yours was totaled?”

“The whole right side was really messed up. I doubt it’s going to be worth fixing.” She rubs at her forehead, and I grab her hand so she doesn’t mess up the bandage. “I need to call Caleb and let him know what happened. He probably wonders why I haven’t called to say goodnight to Seda.”

“Call him on the way home.”

“Yeah,” she says sleepily, “I will.”

The day has clearly caught up with her. She speaks with Caleb for a while, he’s clearly worried—I can’t hear what he says, just the rapid speed at which he shoots questions at her. She assures him she’s all right while I swing by a drive-thru and pick up something for us to eat.

“I’m okay, I promise. Seriously. It’s just some scrapes and bruises.” There’s a pause on her end of the conversation. “Yes, I realize a broken arm is more than a scrape, but—” Caleb’s voice gets a bit louder, more animated. “No, we’re not suing the other driver. Caleb, I swear I’m fine. The car isn’t, but I am.” She shakes her head, trying not to smile. “I know you don’t care about the car, but I’m telling you I’m okay. I wouldn’t be talking to you if I wasn’t.”

I pull up to the speaker and order a bunch of random things. Pulling around, I sit up to pull my wallet out. Salem is already waving her card at me, and I push her hand gently away.

She sticks her tongue out at me, but slips her card away.

“Mhmm, I’ll call you in the morning. All right. Bye.” She ends the call. “Caleb worries too much.”

“He cares about you.”

“You actually don’t sound jealous saying that. I’m surprised.”

I shrug, handing cash over at the window. “I’m not. Not anymore at least.”

She grins, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, you admit it? You were jealous of him at one time?”

I grunt, taking my change and driving up to the next window. They hand over the bag of food and I pull out of the lot.

“Use your words, caveman,” she bosses.

“Stupidly so, yes. At the time I didn’t even realize that’s what it was. I rationalized that I was only looking out for you. Someone had to.”

She shakes her head, her lips twisted in amusement. “Lumberjack caveman,” she mutters softly.

“What was that?” I try not to smile, rubbing my hand over my mouth to hide any hint of one.

“You’re such a lumberjack. The beard. The plaid shirts. The muscles. And you act like a hulking caveman sometimes. So, you’re a lumberjack caveman.”

“Well,” I turn onto the street and pull into my driveway a moment later, “that’s a new one.”