Page 32 of Her Remarkable Protector

Certainly not me.

11

HONOR

The knock at the door comes mid-afternoon, pulling my attention from Laramie’s cot. Third day in this hospital. Sleep-deprived doesn’t even begin to cover it, and I’m pretty sure the term is in full swing for me now. But as I glance at her tiny face, peaceful and perfect, I know I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Come in,” I call.

Chase steps inside first, his presence as commanding as ever, but there’s a softer edge to his expression. “Someone’s here to see you,” he says.

Behind him, Oakley appears in the doorway, clutching a colorful bundle in his hands. His steps reluctant, and he keeps his gaze just shy of meeting mine. I figure he’s probably just as sleep-deprived as I am—sympathy exhaustion, maybe?

“Honor.” He steps inside but doesn’t cross the threshold.

“Get over here, you silly boy!” I laugh, opening my arms.

He comes forward, hugging me. “I missed you.”

Ethan briefly interrupts, “I’ll be right outside with Chase if you need me,” pointing at the door before leaving.

“How are you?” I ask, a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, all right.” Oakley shifts on his feet, presenting the blanket to me. “I, uh… brought something for Laramie.”

A smile tugs at my lips. “What is it?”

He unfolds the blanket, revealing a whimsical pattern. “It’s a llama blanket. I didn’t buy it or anything. There are heaps of them at Ethan’s house, and he said it was okay for me to take one,” he explains. “I thought, maybe it’d keep her warm.”

I reach out to touch it, downy and thick. “That’s really thoughtful of you, Oak. She’s going to love it.”

“Do you think she needs it now?” he asks, stretching his neck to peek at Laramie, but he keeps his distance.

“Maybe later. She’s already bundled up. Come closer.”

He glances at me like he’s searching for permission, then edges closer to the cot. His eyes widen as he peers at Laramie. “She’s so small,” he whispers, like speaking any louder might break her.

“They all start this way, you know. I’ll bet you did, too.”

He straightens, his eyes narrowing in mock offense. “No chance. I was never this tiny.”

“Sure you were. Everyone’s basically a potato with potential at the beginning.”

His lips twitch, almost forming a grin, but it fades as his gaze drifts back to Laramie. “Guess she’s got a lot of growing up to do, huh?”

“She does,” I reply, rubbing her belly, then shifts my attention back to Oakley. “How was your stay with Ethan?”

He shrugs, his hand hesitating just above Laramie’s cheek. “Fine.”

“Look, Laramie. It’s Oakley. Say hello to him,” I coax, hoping to lessen the unease hanging over him.

Oakley’s fingers barely brush her skin before she lets out a cry. He snatches his hand back like he’s touched a flame. “Oh, sorry. Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” I say, sliding an arm around his shoulder. With no siblings and a childhood surrounded by adults who never struck me as the nurturing type, it’s no wonder he looks so out of his depth. “It’s what babies do.”

Laramie’s cries build into something louder, her little face scrunching up as if she’s staging a protest. I scoop her up, holding her close. “Mommy’s here, sweet pea. Mommy’s here.”

Oakley shifts toward the table where the formula and baby supplies are stacked, his movements awkward and unsure. “Is she hungry?” he asks, he’s searching for some kind of direction.

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