The chances of me finding love are like finding the smallest needle in a haystack of needles, impossible.
“They are so small,” Owen whispers, pulling Holland up as he bends his head down to place a kiss on her forehead. “She smells like a baby. I love it.”
“Well, right now she does. Give her ten minutes; she’ll smell like—”
“—Don’t say it.”
“What?”
“You’re going to ruin the baby experience. Don’t say it.”
I chuckle and lift my arms up in surrender. “You know I’m right.”
Owen sets them in their swings, turns on the timers to start them, and holds out his hand to help me up. I bat my lashes at him and hold my hand to my chest. “Oh my goodness, what a gentleman. Why, I might just fall in love with you, Mr. Carter.” I pretend to have a southern drawl and lay a hand against my chest.
“Shut up,” Owen chuckles and carefully helps me into a standing position.
“You know what I’ve noticed? I’m always the one getting hurt. I broke a leg, got stabbed through the chest; what’s next? Jesus, I hope my body gets time to heal before the next injury.”
Because there is always a next injury.
I groan when my muscles and skin pull around the wound in my chest and back. Shit it hurts. I can’t lift my arms up fully without wanting to throw up. Who knew moving in a certain way would hurt so much when it came to the sternum? I can’t bend over because I feel like my organs are going to rip out of my chest. I can’t scratch the back of my head. I can’t have sex. I can’t orgasm because the body tensing up hurts like hell.
I’m miserable.
I want muffins.
And Julia isn’t here yet.
Maybe I can try to make muffins while the twins are asleep.
“You okay?” Owen keeps a tight hold on my shoulders as I sway. A sheen of sweat blankets my body, and I wonder if I made the right decision to get up. I just want to lay down but laying down hurts.
“I’m fine. I just need a minute. It’s hot in here,” I mumble, swaying even more as the need to sit down takes over.
“Woah, you need to relax. What do you need? I’ll help you,” Owen says, helping me sit down again. “You’re sweating. You need to chill out and stop pushing yourself. Have you taken your antibiotic?”
I recline the seat by pressing the button on the side and sigh. It’s the only place I can sleep because I have to stay elevated. It’s either here or the basement where all of the hospital beds are, and I am not sleeping down in the dark, scary basement all by my damn self.
No.
And it’s freezing down there.
Am I afraid of the dark? Negative.
Do I tend to run out the door to throw the trash away at night and run back inside like a serial killer is out to get me?
Absolutely.
I’m only human.
“No, I haven’t taken my pill,” I grumble, knowing I’m about to get in trouble by the resident doctor.
Owen scoffs, laying his hand on his hips. “Heaven, you know you have to take your medicine so you don’t get an infection.”
I yank the blanket over me when I’m suddenly cold. “I’m not going to get an infection. Gosh, leave me alone. You don’t even know.” I sound like a teenager, but I don’t care. I want to nap.
Owen huffs, strides away, and I hear the fridge door opening then closing. I notice the twist of the plastic bottle cap tearing and the cabinet slamming. His plundering footsteps pound on the floor, and they wake Holland. She begins to fuss, whimpering and frowning, but she doesn’t scream at the top of her lungs like Holt does. Quinn is about to come out here. She always does. She can’t hear Holland cry since the place is soundproof, but she just knows.
It’s mama juju, and it freaks me the fuck out.
“Here, take this,” Owen drops a pill in my hand, then hands me a bottle of water. “Down it.”
“Owen,” I pout. “I don’t wanna.”
“I don’t care.”
I narrow my eyes at him, pop the pill in my mouth, then chug half the bottle down. Wow, that water tastes good. “Done.”
“Open.”
I scoff, thinking he is joking and laugh, but when he doesn’t move, my grin fades. “You can’t be serious. I’m not a child.”
“I wouldn’t have to treat you like a child if you would do what you’re told. Open.”
I open my mouth and put a little attitude in the movement. “There. Happy?”
“No. Lift your tongue.”
“Owen!”
“Heaven… don’t make me force your mouth open.”
“So dirty,” I snicker. “There are children present.” I lift my tongue as he peers in, then make a clicking noise. “See? Happy and healthy. Now, grab Holland before she wakes—” It’s too late.
Holt cries, screaming at the top of his lungs, pissed off that he had to wake up. Holland makes these cute whimpering whining noises. They are so different as children. I can’t wait until Holt is older so I can give him a hard time about how he cried more than his sister.
“Good.” Owen turns around, leans down, and cradles Holt in his overly large arms. Hell, I almost can’t see the baby because of Owen’s bicep being in the way. “You’re okay, shhh,” Owen croons, bouncing Holt in hopes he stops crying and Quinn doesn’t have to come out here.
She had two babies.
Two.
The least we can do is watch them for her while she rests and heals.
“Hand me Holland.”
“No way, Asher. You know she will quiet down in a minute. You need to rest. It’s Holt that’s needy.”
“He’s a baby. Of course he is needy.”
“He’s just like Jaxon, is what he is,” Owen jokes, and both of us chuckle.
“Is that right?” Jaxon says sleepily from the hallway.
“Uh…” Owen struggles to explain himself. “Well…It was just a joke. I…”
“Give me my son.” Jaxon’s feet patter along the hardwood floor, and when he stops in front of Owen, Owen hesitates.
“Do I have to?” Owen asks, staring sweetly at Holt. I know he can’t wait to have his own kid. Jolie and the baby have become his world, and I don’t blame him for being excited. This was a long time coming for Owen. He deserves it.
“It’s about feeding time. Quinn sent me in here to grab them.”
“I knew she knew. Mama juju…it’s a real thing,” I say, then started to wonder if my ice-cold queen of a mother knew when I needed to be fed.
Probably not; my mom was everything except maternal.
“Can you follow me with Holland, please?” Jaxon asks Owen as he cradles his son to his chest. While he waits, Jaxon asks me, “How are you feeling Heaven? How’s the chest?”
“I’m on the mend and will be back to annoying everyone and eating everything soon.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Hey, Jaxon. How is that girl doing? The one Jolie found in that cabin. I haven’t heard anything about her. What’s going on?”
“You know as much as I do. She won’t let anyone in her room except Jolie. She won’t talk, she barely eats, she doesn’t want to go to the hospital, I’m worried,” Jaxon admits.