Page 43 of Insta-Family (Forbidden Descendants 3)

“But—”

“Vaughn.” I lifted my brows sternly. “No more.”

His throat worked as he swallowed. Brown eyes peered into mine before he gave a single nod of the head. “Okay, fine.”

I sniffed and opened the door for him. “You are so weird. You’re going to spoil her rotten if you keep this up.”

He turned to look at me as he passed, his lips hitching up into the hint of a mischievous smile. Then he leaned close and murmured, “That’s the idea,” before he stepped outside and strode off, not once looking back.

There was something so sensual and intimate about what he’d just done, I gazed after him dazedly, my lashes fluttering and stomach full of butterflies.

No, I would never be able to consider him boring. He was way too thrilling for that.

“He’s an intense one, isn’t he?”

I jumped.

Rushing to shut the door, I concentrated on smoothing my expression before I turned to find Pick watching me curiously.

With an emotionless nod, I answered, “I was just having the same thought, actually.”

Pick sighed and glanced out the window. “Quiet way,” he murmured. “Keen, watchful eyes. Overly polite manner. That type always makes me wonder what painful, introspective thoughts are lurking behind the surface.”

“Well, he did recently lose his brother,” I allowed, shrugging nonchalantly and hoping I didn’t sound as protective of Vaughn’s privacy as I felt. “So…”

“But that was nearly a year ago, and your boy’s been keeping it fresh, right up there on the surface with him.”

I shook my head immediately. “Oh, he’s not my—”

Pick kept talking. “You can see it in his eyes. His inner battle is strong.” Shaking his head sadly, he murmured, “That’s the toughest kind to fight. And he’s purposely blocking his own path forward with the pain, so he won’t be able to properly move past it, when all he needs to do is just learn how to embrace it fully so he can carry it with him.”

Eva sighed from the chair where she’d seated herself, rocking slowly with Ava. “God, I love it when you go all deep and knowing.”

Pick grinned smugly and winked at her. “Why do you think I do it so often?”

His wife smiled back before she glanced at me and announced, “I should make him a stew.”

“That would be nice,” I said as I wandered to the window just in time to see a dark car pull away from the curb and start down the street. “I don’t think he’s had anyone make him a stew in a long time.”

My chest wrenched with sympathy. I recalled the way he’d sobbed over Ava at the hospital and tried so hard to keep everything in.

Pick was right; Vaughn refused to fully embrace his grief.

It made me ache for him even more.

Hell, it made me want to give him more than just a stew.

Pick and Eva weren’t the last visitors to stop by on that long Sunday. Before they had even left, more showed up to meet my little girl or just to check in and make sure I was doing okay. About half a dozen family members came by on separate occasions before the day was over, and all of them asked if there was anything I needed.

The outpouring of support was growing to be a bit much, actually. I was secretly grateful for a spot of peace and quiet when the day finally ended.

“Together and alone at last,” I told my little girl as she lay curled against my chest, fast asleep. With a relieved smile, I settled in for the night, where I sat upright in bed, holding her.

I honestly didn’t think I’d gotten my hands on her all day, unless she’d needed to feed. Too many other people had wanted their turn with her.

The family was being awesome, truly. They were helping me and making sure I was okay, but the constant company was beginning to burn me out.

I guess everything had its pros and cons, even big, wonderful families because I usually preferred a lot quieter of a life than this.

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