Not having a clue how long it’d been, I awoken by my mom’s hand on my leg and her whispered voice telling me she was leaving. I didn’t even realize I’d dozed off.

“Where is she?”

Her eyes were red, and I knew she had shed tears alongside my girl. “She’s asleep again.”

I nodded. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome, son.”

“I didn’t know what else to do, Mom. It’s like as soon as I told her he was gone, so was she.”

She reached forward and patted my cheek, her hand lingering. “I don’t know what it’s like losing a child. Hearing Annabelle talk about that baby during dinner, there was so much adoration in her voice, I knew he was special to her.” Mom dropped her hand. “She was loving him like he was hers, Turner. I don’t know how or why she attached herself to him, but she obviously saw a reason to. The poor girl has seen entirely too much loss in her short life, and this was just another notch for her to believe the world is a cruel place that only hurts her if she lets it.”

“Well, I don’t need her shutting me out. That’s what I’m concerned about right now. It has taken some time to get her to open up to me, and even then she is guarded.”

“She has reason to be.”

“I know.”

Mom gave me a soft smile. “One thing at a time, Turner. You can’t fix everyone. Show her you’re here, and she will tell you what she needs.”

She stood and went for the door.

“You okay to drive, or should I call Dad to come pick you up?”

“I’m good. I’ll be calling tomorrow morning to check on her. I have some things I’d like to do, and I’ll need your opinion on it.”

My mom, always busy doing something. “Sounds good.”

She shut the door behind her and the house went silent. What a shitty ending to a day that had so much potential. Deciding I needed to see Annabelle and feel her, I went back to her room. She was on her back with her hands resting across her stomach. At least she looked peaceful. Stripping off my shirt, I went to her and scooted in beside her. I didn’t want to crowd her, but I also wanted to make sure she knew I was here. I placed my hand on top of hers, and of their own accord, her fingers threaded through mine. She breathed in a broken inhale. The kind that comes from a child that had been crying too much. I was giving her space and, yet, still being close enough that if she needed me I was at arms length. It was enough, for now.

IT’D BEEN TWO DAYS since Noah passed. My shifts at the hospital had been picked up and I’d sequestered myself to my house. I didn’t want to go anywhere and I didn’t want to do anything. I couldn’t get over something like this. A baby, who was completely innocent and brought into this world under some of the worst circumstances, fought so hard. He fought and started to get better and then he was snatched away like he didn’t matter to anybody. Except he did. He mattered to me. I cared enough about him that I’d devoted my time to him, and I loved him and showed him love. His worthless mother abandoned him. No child deserved such cruelty. I didn’t have any intention of adopting him or anything, but I would have ensured that someone worthy would have ended up with him. I was nowhere near ready to have a child of my own. In fact, the very idea of having a baby scared me so much I had come to the conclusion that I likely wouldn’t have my own kids. I’d seen so many babies being brought into this world. The way the parents react to their new little bundles kept the saying in perspective.

Having a child is like having your heart walking around outside your body.

I had too many nervous tendencies since my parents passed away, to even consider having children. Turner has hardly left my side since I got the news. I didn’t know how to speak to him about my grief. I tried yesterday, but nothing came out of my mouth. So I continued on with head nods and shakes as my form of communication and doing the things that others expect from you to show that you’re okay. I learned far too early that when someone passes away, the people around you want and need you to be okay, so that they may move on with their own lives. Was it selfish of them? I had no clue. But I could also tell Turner may be on to me. He didn’t just watch me, he studied me. It should have made me uncomfortable him being here, but it didn’t. His presence was nice, and he never once forced me to talk about anything. He didn’t ask me to cry, or tell him how I was feeling. He’s simply let me be. But I knew he sensed me. There was something there under the surface of those blue eyes that were watching me. For now, he let me know he was near and it was enough.

Today was just another day that I woke up with the same empty feeling I’d felt the last three days. No Noah, and the fear that life could take a tragic turn for me or anybody else I knew. I rolled over in my bed and smelled that a fresh pot of coffee had been made. Frowning, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Living like this wasn’t ideal for anyone. It was time to make face with Turner, just so I could come back into my room and sleep some more. As I left my comfortable bed, I glanced in the mirror on my way out.

Ewwww, holy crap!

I had a nest forming on the top of my head that would be perfect for a couple baby birds, and I had dark circles under my eyes. I tried to run my fingers through my thick hair, but had no luck. They got stuck in the tangles and I gave up. Lifting my shoulders and exhaling, it didn’t matter. Turner wouldn’t stick around too much longer. He was going to get tired of my attitude and leave.

“Morning, beautiful.” Turner greeted me. He was leaning up against the kitchen counter, shirtless, a pair of sweat pants hanging low on his hips. Could that V get any deeper? Even in my state of mind, I was fully capable of appreciating the man that stood before me. He twisted behind himself to hand me a mug. The simple motion caused my lips to part. When he handed it to me, his blue eyes held mine. There was a warm fire just under the surface that I could see burning. Oh my.

“Morning,” I rasped.

He took a sip of his coffee and asked, “How’d you sleep?”

I shook off the errant thoughts and answered, “Like I have been.”

“Restless?”

I frowned. “No. Dreamlessly.”

He set his mug down. “Sounds boring.”

What in the hell? “Sorry to bore you.” I went to the coffee pot and poured my first cup.

“Annabelle, you’re not boring me. You’re misunderstanding what I’m saying. Get your coffee and come out on the deck.”

He walked out the sliding glass door, and left me standing there to figure out what he was doing.

I dumped some cream and sugar into my “Follow your dreams” mug. The irony wasn’t lost on me, and walked in the same direction he did. Turner was sitting in my dad’s chair. I stopped and analyzed how I felt seeing him sitting there. That was a special seat, and only someone who meant something to me should ever be allowed to sit there. After my parents died, all of the distant family and friends that came in and out of this house, I guarded that chair with my life. Nobody was to sit there except my dad or me. And since he was gone, it was only a place for me. A thousand emotions swirled through me, but not a single one was anger or the urge to tell him he needed to move. Turner was welcome there, and I was more than okay with it.

“You going to stand there watching me, or do you plan on coming over here to talk to me?”

I raised my brow despite him not being able to see it. “Are you always so bossy and demanding?”

“No. I could be worse,” he said matter of fact.

Great. Lord only knows what that was really like. I came to stand in front of him and made a show of leaning against the railing and feigning indifference to his sassy mouth.