Page 34 of All I Need (Hearts of the South)
“This is our second middle-of-the-night feeding, and Amy was here for the first one around midnight.” He grinned. “Besides, my stint with nighttime feedings may be limited since your sister is researching ways to induce lactation.”
“You poor kid.” Savannah ran her thumb along the sole of one impossibly small foot. The toes curled at the tender touch. “Your dad and I are going to have to keep your mother under control or she’ll have every aspect of your life researched and planned out until you retire.”
“I am not that bad.” From the doorway, Amy spoke around a yawn. “I’ve only got things planned until she goes to college. No pageant life for this baby girl, and she can pick Valdosta State or UGA.”
“Auburn has an excellent academic reputation.” Rob lifted his arm to buss Hamilton’s forehead, and her lashes drifted down. Amy perched on the sofa arm at his shoulder, sifting her fingers through his disheveled hair. “She might want to yell ‘War Damn Eagle’ instead of ‘Go Dawgs’.”
“You can’t plan everything, Ames.” Savannah slanted a look at her sister. “She has to have some spontaneity in her life.”
Rob made a sound in his throat. “That’s rich, coming from you, since you refuse to have a life anymore.”
Amy tugged at his hair. “Rob, maybe this isn’t the best time.”
Eyes narrowed, Savannah studied him. “You are not going to leave this alone, are you?”
“No, I’m not, and you don’t want me to, not really.” He set the nearly empty bottle aside and lifted Hamilton to his shoulder to rub her back. “You know what I pray over you every day? That you’ll remember what kind of guy Gates was and realize he wouldn’t want you buried in grief. Because that’s the last thing he’d want for you, and you know it.”
She did know, only…
“I don’t…” She picked at the seam on the couch back. “I can’t figure out how to do things…to do life differently anymore.”
“I know,” Rob said quietly, and she realized that he did get it, that he understood how the grief and numbness became a habit. Hamilton belched quietly against his neck. “But aren’t you tired, Savannah?”
Her mouth quivered, and she clenched her jaw. Eyes closed, she dashed a finger across her lashes. “Yes.”
“Then, please, take the first step to come back to us.”
Chapter Seven
A shrill sound penetrated the chaos around Emmett—yelling, running footsteps, hard hands pressing down on his thigh, agony shooting through him. A siren, only sirens didn’t sound like that, one long peal.
Suddenly awake, he stared at the ceiling, his pulse thudding in his throat. He blinked and shoved his notebook and Kouzes and Posner aside. He’d worked late for a Friday and had already been tired before even tackling the reading. Must have fallen asleep working on notes for his last big paper.
The doorbell rang once more.
He frowned and blinked at the clock. Who the hell was ringing his doorbell at nearly one in the morning?
Not bothering with a shirt, he shuffled down the hall and peered through the peephole.
Savannah.
Hand on the knob, he paused. Did he really want to open that door again?
Was that even a question, as miserable as he’d been the last three weeks? Hell, he’d missed simply seeing her car next to his truck the past few days, while she’d been away, he assumed, with Bennett and his wife during the birth of their child.
He swung the door open and leaned his forearm along the frame.
“Hey.” She didn’t smile, but her fingers fidgeted with the hem of the snug black camisole she wore with some kind of stretchy black pants. Her nervous movements revealed a pale strip of skin along her abdomen and hip.
He waited. He’d opened the door. The next move was hers.
She moistened her lips, and her throat moved with a hard swallow. On a deep inhale, she straightened her shoulders, and she released her shirt hem.
“You were right. I do want you.”
He stilled, a weird fight, flight, or freeze instinct, scared as hell he’d say or do the wrong thing. Desperation glinted in her dark eyes.
“The thing is, I don’t want to want you. I don’t want to want this.” She closed her eyes, her mouth quivering. “It hurts.”
