I hold her tightly, closing my eyes. I feel her, breathe her in, letting her essence cleanse me.
I’m better now that she’s here, too.
* * *
Chapter 14
McKenna
I wake the next day with an aching, hollow feeling in my chest. Last night, I slept most of the night next to Tully, so close to him there wasn’t an inch between us. And it was lovely. Though sadness permeated my very being, being held by him helped me as well.
I feel tired even after sleeping for ten hours.
I roll over and lay my head on his chest. Still groggy, his eyes still closed, he lifts one of his heavy arms and lets me snuggle in. I close my eyes, listening to his heartbeat.
There’s something warm and comforting about listening to the heartbeat of another when you don’t know the surety of your own.
Wordlessly, he runs his fingers through my hair. It’s a tangled mess, but he gently combs it out, with just enough pressure that it soothes me. I don’t know that I’m crying until I feel the dampness of his t-shirt beneath my cheek.
“Shh, lass,” he says softly.
“I’m—I’m sorry,” I whisper, a little surprised that his tenderness has wrung sadness out of me. I don’t like feeling like this. I want it to go away.
“No apologizing.” His voice is as gentle as a sunbeam, warm and benevolent, and it brings comfort and peace. “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, but I know how hard it is myself, seeing you go through this. Knowing I can’t help it or make it better for you.”
His arms around me tighten, and he holds me just so.
“It’s different as a man, not feeling the physical loss…” His voice trails off for a moment, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. “It’s a lot easier when there’s a little person actually here, running around on chubby little feet and wreaking havoc like my brothers’ children, but… well, I did let myself imagine a bit, I’ll admit.” He clears his throat. “But my concern is for you above all.”
“I’m fine,” I say, sniffing as I try fruitlessly to cover up another round of tears.
“You’re not, though, baby. And there’s nothing wrong with not being fine.”
I nod into his chest, and he holds me until the shaking subsides, and I sniff loudly.
“Need a tissue, then?” he asks. “You’re using my t-shirt like a fucking handkerchief, but I’ll let you get away with it this once.”
I actually laugh out loud at that, though the laughter doesn’t bring the lightness it normally does. It seems to momentarily lessen the pang of sadness in my chest. But it’s something.
I sit up, and he settles me between the covers and pillows before he walks to the loo to get me some tissues. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and yanks it up over his back. It’s splotched wet in patches with my tears. As he balls it up and whips it into the laundry basket, I let my gaze rove over his strong, inked muscles, his tanned skin.
Normally when I gawk at him, it turns me on. This time, it doesn’t. This time, I only feel at peace with his rugged, attentive presence. No one can hurt me with a man like Tully by my side.
He returns to the bed and hands me the tissues. I wipe my nose and sit up, as my stomach growls.
“Hungry?”
I shake my head. I am hungry, but the thought of eating anything right now’s a major turn-off.
“McKenna.” It’s the first reproachful look he’s given me this morning. He’s been tender and patient, but it seems his patience is waning.
“Mmm?”
“Now, I know you’re not very likely to want to join the others for breakfast, but I do think it’s important you eat something.”
He’s right. For once in my life, I have no interest at all in seeing the others. I don’t want their sympathy or pity. I’ll mourn this loss, but I need to do so alone. Even Tully can’t mourn for the loss of both a child and a life I thought I’d have.
So he wants me to eat something. I sigh. “Of course you do.”
“Tell me what you want and I’ll call to the kitchen.”
“Just a scone and a good, bracing cup of tea would do me good.”
He nods, picks up his phone, and makes a call. It’s like there’s room service or something, and it makes me feel a bit spoiled. Still, I’m grateful. Today doesn’t feel like a day I want to socialize with anyone for any reason.
He takes a quick shower while we wait for our food, and I nestle under the blankets. I stare at my phone. There are messages in the little icon at the bottom of the screen, but for some reason I can’t even bring myself to look at them. Not now. I anticipate more of the same pity I’d get if I went downstairs.