Page 46 of At the Edge of Surrender

This little girl with blonde hair the same color as Emery’s, fucking adorable as could be with her chubby cheeks and giant grin and dimple on her chin.

But none of those things were what had me trapped.

It was her eyes.

Eyes that were the most unique shade of green.

Eyes I hadn’t been able to fully make out through the window of the car.

A sheering emerald, though the irises were rimmed in gold, the same as the glinting flecks that were smattered throughout.

The same eyes as my mother had had.

The same eyes as mine.

Still, I was shaking my head, trying to fucking process what it was that Emery was trying to tell me.

Sickness rising from the gully carved through the center of my soul.

From that wicked place where all the darkness and ugliness reigned.

That place that promised I didn’t get this.

Unable to fathom that I’d actually created something as beautiful as this.

This little girl with the angel face.

Fear locked my throat and turmoil thundered through my veins.

“Are you going to say something?” Emery’s question was woven in a quiet affront, issued so low it was a wonder that I could even hear it, let alone that it would knock me from the trance.

But somehow, I lifted my head, staring over at her, gutted all over again that I somehow couldn’t remember touching this woman before last night.

I was sure that experience would have been engraved so deep in my mind there was no chance it could have been erased.

Sure I’d remember her taste and her scent and the shape of her body.

But no, I couldn’t remember a damn thing.

I blinked through the stupor, and she released a gust of disbelief. Her brow pinched as she leaned farther across the table. “I just told you that you have a daughter, and you have nothing to say?”

“I…” I tried to fumble through the chaos to form a rational thought.

But Emery was hissing before I could formulate a single word, “Her name is Maci. She is four years old, and her mother was my sister, Emmalee.”

She choked over the last, sorrow gushing out of her, overflowingas she gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing that would keep her from being dragged away.

Taken into the nothingness.

That was when it finally dawned on me what she was saying.

This wasn’t her kid.

It was her niece.

And she’d used sister in past tense.

Oh, fuck.

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