Lucas
Eager to lay eyes on them again, I rush through the house, stopping only when I reach the doorway of the master bedroom. Just as I left them, Embree and the girls are curled up in bed next to my sister who, true to her word, watched over them while I met with the guys. The moment Jen sees me, she starts to get up, but something in my expression makes her pause.
"Would you mind staying with the girls a bit longer?" I ask hopefully. "I need to talk to Emb."
When our eyes meet, the fear in Embree's gaze hits me like a punch to the gut. It's as if she's already bracing herself for more bad news. The small amount of color that had finally started to return to her face since we found her suddenly drains away, leaving her looking pale and fragile all over again.
God, I hate this!
Before Jen can respond, I'm already by the bed, standing next to where Mallory and Embree are cuddled together. "Come here Mally," I say, scooping her up with the same exaggerated groan that never fails to make her laugh. That sound—it melts me every time. "I need to help your mama up." I press a kiss to the top of her head, then offer my hand to Embree. To my relief, she takes it without a second thought.
"We'll be right back," I whisper to her, before gently laying Mallory down beside her big sister, who's still staring blankly at the TV. With one knee on the bed, I lean over and kiss both their little foreheads, promising we won't be long. While Mallory curls back into the covers, content, Alyssa remains unresponsive. The look on Jen and Embree's faces mirrors my concern. While I hope Alyssa will bounce back in a few days, something tells me we're going to need professional help. Something I make a mental note to talk to Embree about later, once I've had the chance to take care of her first.
"Come on, sweetheart." I take Embree's hand and turn to my sister. "Thanks, Jenny."
With her hand in mine, Embree follows, though I sense a bit of hesitation at first. I can't tell if it's because she doesn't want to leave the girls or if maybe it's because she no longer trusts me. Either way, it doesn't change a thing. I told her I was in this for the long haul, and I meant it. Starting today, everything I do will be to prove to her she can count on me to always be here for her and the kids. Which is why now that we're home and the girls are safe and settled, my goal is to finally take care of my girl.
I lead her up the stairs to the bedroom we've been sharing and guide her into the adjoining bathroom to run a bath. I could have done it downstairs in the master suite, but I know she'd be more guarded with the girls being so close. That's the one downside to keeping them together since we found them. Embree and I haven't had any privacy to really talk—about how she's really feeling, what she's been through, or what she's thinking. And I need that. Desperately. As a man of action, I need to know what's weighing on her mind, so I can start helping her—and the girls—heal from this.
Once we're in the bathroom, I lean over the large tub, keeping hold of her hand as I turn on the water, adjusting the temperature carefully until it's just right. Then I turn to face her, my head bent low as I peer into those whiskey eyes, I was terrified I'd never see again. As I lift my hand to cup her face, it feels like I can finally breathe again. The vice-like pressure that for days constricted my lungs loosens at the feel of her soft skin under my touch.
When her eyes well up with the same look of love and adoration that oozes from my every pore, I swallow back a sob. She feels it too. And that, more than anything, gives me hope that we'll be okay in time. And as much as I want to kiss her, to pull her into my arms so I can claim her, it's my need to take care of her that wins out. So instead, I lean in, never breaking our gaze, and gently brush my lips over hers. It's a soft kiss, just enough to show her how much I love her, how deeply I missed her, and how grateful I am that she's back home—safe and sound—where she belongs.
Never taking my eyes off her, I lower my hands to the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly, only after I'm sure she's okay with being undressed. Her tear-filled eyes stay locked on mine, and because all I want is to ease the burden of her worries, I press another soft kiss to her lips. My fingers trail up her arms, then down her back, as I reach around to unhook the delicate pink lace bra she's wearing.
Slowly, I ease the straps down her arms, taking my time as I soak in the feel of her soft skin. Her eyes flutter closed, and I hear her breath catching in her chest. It's the sweetest sound, a quiet confirmation that, like me, she yearns for so much more. Whether from the sensual way I'm undressing her, or the feel of the cool air brushing against her nipples, I watch in awed fascination as they pebble tight, right before my eyes. I let the delicate fabric fall to the floor, while my focus shifts to her beautiful face, waiting for those whiskey eyes to open and find mine. When they do, I lean in to feather yet another kiss across her lips—soft, barely there—just enough pressure to ignite and fan the flames simmering between us.
As I undo the buttons of her shorts, I keep my eyes on her, watching her reaction as I let the fabric fall and help her step out of them. Kneeling before her, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head just below her soft, pillowy breasts. Turning my head, a smile tugs at my lips when I catch sight of the small bump forming there. It's barely noticeable to the rest of the world, but because I know every inch of her body, the change is clear as day. There's a baby in there. A real, living baby. The most beautiful one I've ever seen, the one who already owns every piece of my heart. Pressing my lips gently over the small bump, I drop a lingering kiss, letting all the love and affection I feel pour into this little being who already feels like such an integral part of me. Of us.
"I was so afraid that something would happen to you, little one. So afraid you'd never know just how much you are loved and wanted. I'm so sorry..." I press my lips to her skin again, my apology meant for both of them. "I'm sorry if I ever made either of you feel anything less."
A sob escapes her lips as she tangles her fingers in my hair. I pull back, gazing up at her, baring all my sadness, my fear, my every vulnerability. I want her to see. I want her to look deep inside my soul until she finds my every truth. All of them—even the broken parts of me—because no matter how damaged I am, the love I feel for them is the most real thing I've ever known. It's my oxygen. It's the sea meeting bright blue skies. Rainy mornings and cool summer nights. She is life. Creation at its start. I don't know how or when it happened, but she, and the babies she's created, have become more vital to me than the air I breathe. And I vow to worship and cherish them for the gifts they are for the rest of my days.
Want to read ahead? The next 2 Chapters are available FREE if you FOLLOW ME on REAM!!! (Link in my profile)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note:
I'd love to hear what you think of this scene. Were you touched by Lucas's conversation with the baby? Do you think it will be enough for Emilia to finally believe that he really wants to be a part of their lives?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NEW CHAPTERS post at 3:00 PM EST on Tuesdays & Thursdays!!!
For updates on this and future stories, remember to follow me.
YOU ARE READING
BROKEN COURAGE (Broken Redemption Book 3)
RomanceWhile tortured and held captive as a prisoner of war, she became my reason to keep breathing. The force that fueled my will to fight. To survive. When I woke after the rescue to discover the life I thought I was coming home to was but a figment of m...
