Worth the Fall (The McKinney Brothers, #1)(19)

“Mommy, I’m hungwy. Let’s get ice cweam!”

Abby checked the time. Almost four. Surprised they’d made it this long, she stood and Gracie cheered, taking the movement as a yes.

Matt got up too, and Charlie grabbed on to the bottom edges of his swim trunks.

“Looks like he’s adopted you,” Abby said, gathering her kids’ stuff, which seemed to have multiplied.

“Like a pet?” Matt ran his hand over Charlie’s white-blond hair as her son looked up at him, his cherub face all brown eyes and bright smile.

“Hmm, maybe a pony,” she teased.

“A pony? Stallion maybe.”

She smiled at the mock insult in his voice and fought not to glance at his shorts.

Matt picked up Charlie like a man who’d done so a thousand times. A few steps on the hot sand and Gracie ran to Matt’s side, arms raised, looking for a free ride. He scooped her up too, never breaking stride.

When they reached the boardwalk, Matt put Gracie down and knelt to rinse Charlie’s sandy feet. A sick feeling slithered through her. The scene was too perfect, too real. Just the type that always preceded a crushing blow.

Walk away now. Before you get attached. Before you get hurt.

“You don’t have to come,” she blurted.

He looked up from working Charlie’s feet into his little rubber shoes and sent her a questioning look over his shoulder. “You don’t want me to?”

Yes, she did. That was the problem. Stupid, said another voice. It’s ice cream, not a life promise. He was free to eat what and where he wanted.

“I just meant you don’t have to. I mean I don’t want you to think I need you. To help me, that is, because I’m pregnant and you’re a gentleman and everything.”

He straightened, freezing her with a look. “I rarely do anything I don’t want to do.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate it,” she said, doing her best to ignore his hot gaze. “I mean you’re always carrying bags or chairs—”

“Or people,” Matt added.

“Right, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated or—”

“Abby, take a breath. I like you. I like the kids.” His mouth turned up in a smooth, easy smile and his eyes glinted with laughter. “I like ice cream.”

She bit the inside of her mouth, trying not to grin like a fool. He had that effect on her—made her nervous and giddy at the same time. “Okay, then. Let’s go get ice cream.”

They walked through the crowd of tables and people until they found a place to sit by the pool. She couldn’t blame the female gawkers as Matt passed in front of each lounge chair with Charlie on one hip, pulling at his sunglasses, and Gracie on the other, working his hair into spikes. He was heart stopping. He was a hero.

But he’s not my hero. He’s not my anything.

Matt put the kids down on the lounge chair next to her. “I’ll get in line for ice cream.” He was halfway to the snack counter when Charlie scrambled off and chased after him.

“Matty!” He weaved through the iron chairs and tables. “Matty!” Charlie’s voice carried across the crowded space, and Matt stopped and turned.

Abby witnessed the next three seconds in slow motion, each image clear, each second a snapshot in time. A big woman in a flowing, floral cover-up scooting back her chair. The toe of Charlie’s tiny Croc catching on the iron leg. His little arms raising instinctively to brace for impact, not yet coordinated enough to halt his trajectory.

She felt the thud like a baseball bat to her heart as his blond head hit the concrete. Then nothing.

Three seconds stretched into an eternity. Charlie didn’t cry, didn’t move. Another second and her hearing came rushing back with the sound of her baby’s screams and Matt’s commanding voice.

“Move!” The crowd parted and Matt eased him up before anyone else could touch him.

So much blood. Running into his eye, dripping onto Matt’s arm, turning Charlie’s blond hair an obscene shade.

Her mother’s face. Her mother’s arm. Dripping into a puddle.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

She’d never seen blood on her children. They’d never had more than a scrape. But now…She’d like to think she would have snapped to it after the initial shock, but she never got the chance. A man of action, Matt took charge.

Ignoring the concerned crowd, he made his way toward her. “Gracie, hand me Charlie’s towel.” He took the folded froggie towel and rolled it down his thigh to make it even thicker, all the while keeping a screaming, squirming Charlie cradled tightly against him.

“Shh, buddy. It’s okay now.” Matt pressed the towel firmly against his head, never taking his eyes from Charlie’s. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

Abby held Charlie’s hand as he pushed frantically at the towel. “It’s okay, baby.” His pained crying tore at her heart.

Matt lifted the cloth to inspect the wound, his brows pinched and serious. “Let’s go. Annie, get Mommy’s bag. Jack, grab those other towels for me.” He was calm, patient, waiting for them to do as he said, then praising them when they completed their assigned task.

His eyes met hers and saw the fear she knew was there. “He’s okay, honey, but it needs stitches. I’ll keep the pressure on while you get your keys.”