Page 75 of Kyle
"It so happens he just woke up. Let me send a nurse to fetch him."
"No, let me." He kissed her cheek and left the room hurriedly. Outside the nursery, he watched as the nurse fussed over his son. He had sneaked a peek once or twice and stared in wonder at the sparse crown of dark hair and beautiful hazel eyes or was it amber? The boy had the McCreary's shape of nose and mouth. And had little resemblance to the woman who had carried him for almost nine months. His father, grandfather, as well as he had charmed the rest of the family.
The nurse looked up with a smile, indicating that he was ready to make the journey to see his mom. But Kyle needed a minute. Hewas still shaky, his heart bruised and battered. And he felt guilt churning through his body.
He was going to have to tell her eventually. Was going to have to confess to his part in her almost dying.
*****
"Is she locked up?" Ingrid stared from her brother to her husband as she eased the nipple out of her son's lips.
"Let me take him." Moving to the bed, Kyle carefully eased the baby from her arms. She had insisted on breastfeeding him even though the nurses had been pumping milk from her.
"Not enough evidence."
"That's bullshit." She leaned back and felt the familiar tug of her shoulder. "She paid someone to kill me."
"I'll go and put him down." Kyle left the room with the baby.
"He's riddled with guilt." Matthew murmured.
"Why? Was he the one who shot me?"
"He feels guilty, rightfully so, because she was his ex and that ex has this twisted sense of warped thinking that he should not have left her." He straddled the chair and met her gaze levelly. "You need to talk to him. Assure him that you don't blame him. He suffered, Ingrid, and is still suffering. The man has been a wreck."
She sighed. "He looks haggard. Has he even eaten?"
"He refuses to leave. We finally persuaded him to go home and take a shower and get some sleep, he came right back. If he continues, they might have to admit him."
"When he comes back, leave us alone. I'll talk some sense into him."
"Is he sleeping?"
"Yes. I should let you sleep. I was thinking I should go home and get something to eat--"
"In a minute. Come here." She patted the side of the bed where her uninjured arm was. When he came, she reached for his hand.
"I love you to distraction."
His throat clogged up. "I don't deserve it." He whispered brokenly.
"Now you're just pissing me off. We're going to get through this--"
"It's because of me. You got shot because of me."
"I got shot because a disturbed woman refused to move on. And a junkie was desperate for his next fix."
"She might get away with it."
She held his gaze steady. "And I have a feeling that you're not going to allow that to happen. There are worse things than prison."
Understanding dawned, and he felt the tension slowly lifting.
"Yes, there is."
She nodded. "Now. I'm alive and we have the most gorgeous baby in the world who happens to look like you. One who was so ungrateful that he inherited nothing from me. But that's for another time."
His smile came freely for the first time in three days.
