Haunt (Bayonet Scars #6) by JC Emery

Author:JC Emery [Emery, JC]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Left Break Press
Published: 2016-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Piper’s eyelids slowly fall closed. It’s just a moment, a single blissful moment, before they pop open again and she’s staring up at me like I’m about to perform a magic act. I don’t normally hold her as she falls asleep anymore, but I am tonight.

It’s been a big day for our little family. While Piper may be too young to understand who Wyatt is, she understands all the drama around her. She knows something is wrong when her brother is yelling and I’m yelling back. She hates it. As it is, she wasn’t sleeping well when her brother wasn’t home because Rig had kidnapped him. Now she’s very slowly adjusting to our new, albeit temporary, space. For tonight, she’s just not up for falling asleep on her own in her Pack ’n Play. At least not with the big scary biker staring at her. I don’t know if she’s actually afraid of him, or if she’s just curious. He looks at her the way he used to look at me. Like he’s looking at his entire world. It’s similar to the way he looks at Zander, but not quite.

She lifts her little head and turns to look at Wyatt. I can’t really see her expression from this angle, but whatever face she’s making is making him laugh. I smile. It’s probably the first happy, genuine smile I’ve had in weeks. Since before we came out to California and uprooted our entire lives. Long before Rig dared take my boy. I don’t know when last time was that I smiled like this, if I’m being truthful. But here I am, in my old bedroom, with my old man and our daughter. And she’s making him smile, and that makes me smile. I’m not a religious person, and I’ve never been the praying type, but in this moment, I feel blessed.

“What is she doing?” I ask. They’re having some kind of silent conversation that has Wyatt raising his eyebrows and making swoon-worthy faces at our daughter. No wonder I was a teen mom. The man’s always wanted kids, takes family very seriously, and can pretty much force an ovary explosion any time he wants. Asshole.

“She’s batting her eyes at me,” Wyatt says through muffled laughter. His voice is so quiet, and his body is so close. We’re just hanging out on my bed in my old bedroom like no time has passed at all. But it has. A lot of time has passed, and it kills me that I can’t just enjoy this shit.

“The sassy little flirt is trying to get out of bedtime,” I say. She learned to bat her eyes recently. I swear to Christ that I don’t know who fucking taught her that shit, but she picked it up and has been using it go get her way ever since. Sometimes she looks like she’s having a seizure, because she’s still a baby and doesn’t have perfect control over her movements just yet. Other times, it looks so practiced it worries me for her teenage years.

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