Page 138 of Myla: The Hawthornes

“Okay.”

I turned her in my arms and let out a long breath as she pressed her forehead against my chest, her arms sliding around my waist.

“I love you,” I murmured.

“Were you scared?”

“Out of my mind with it.”

“Me, too.”

I pressed my lips to the part of her hair, leaving them there as I breathed her in. She was okay. She was standing in my arms. Whole. Safe.

“I accidentally dropped Saoirse’s cake,” she mumbled against my shirt.

“I think she’ll forgive you.”

We made our way back out to the living room and settled onto the couch with Myla in my lap. Everything was silent. I couldn’t stop touching her. Rubbing her back. Lacing our fingers. Pulling her closer. Kissing her face. Her ear.

I reached up to run my fingers through her hair, and she jolted so violently that my heart started racing again.

“What?”

“Don’t—”

“What’s wrong?”

“He had a hold of my hair,” she explained hoarsely. “He took a lot with him when he fell.”

“Oh, shit, baby,” I replied, looking at her head. “Let me see.”

“It’s kind of to the side,” she murmured. “Above my ear and in the back by my neck.”

“Come on,” I ordered gently, helping her to her feet. “Come into the light.”

I led her to the kitchen.

“It’s right here,” she said, tipping her head carefully as she pointed.

I delicately separated the strands of her hair and found a bloody bald patch just a little above and behind her right ear.

“Is it bad?” she asked softly.

“No, no, not that bad.” It looked painful and raw. “Where’s the other one?”

“Here,” she said, slowly leaning her head forward as she pointed.

The place above her hairline was worse.

“This one hurts more,” she said.

“Yeah, looks worse, too.”

“Is it bleeding?”

“Just a little. It’s all scabbed over now.” I let her hair fall back into place, hiding the wound. “Any others?”

“My entire scalp hurts,” she said tiredly. “But those are the worst ones.”

---