Inked Babies (Inked Brotherhood 6)

I’ve missed him so much.

Missed the banter between us, his strength, his unapologetic need of me in his arms, in his bed, his wicked grin. God, I’m thinking about him as if he’s—

“Let me hold him,” his voice says from the door, and I yelp, stumbling.

“Holy shit, Zane!”

“Fuck, sorry.” His arms are around me in a split second, steadying me. “Easy there. Did I scare you?”

You can say that again.

“Zane.” I stare up at him. As if conjured from my thoughts, he’s right here, the lines of his gorgeous face, his Mohawk, his dark lashes gilded in the light of my bedside lamp. “Can’t sleep again?”

He’s been sleeping on the couch this past month. Part of why I’ve missed him. I go to sleep and wake up in an empty bed. A mostly empty life, apart from the joy of having Lee in it, and the pain of seeing Zane suffer.

“I’m here.” He drops a kiss on top of my head. “I told you I’d never let you fall.”

My heart thumps. He did tell me that. He’s the sweetest, the best man in the universe. Not fair that he should go through so much sorrow.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you,” he whispers and draws back a little to look down at me, then at our baby. “Both of you.”

“Not your fault,” I whisper back. “Don’t ever think it’s your fault, not for one second.”

“I won’t let go again,” he says, and I’m not sure I know what he’s talking about. It must be three in

the morning, and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, but the feel of him against me, his arms around me, his familiar, sexy spice winding its way into my subconscious, it all feels right.

“Then hold me.”

He tugs us toward the bed. I place Lee back into his crib, and he’s quickly falling asleep, his small face relaxing.

I turn toward my husband. Winding my arms around his neck, I lay my cheek on his chest, over the thin cotton of his T-shirt, listening to his heart.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and the question almost breaks me.

He’s been so lost in his own private hell, it’s the first time I recall him asking me this in a long while.

“I’ve been scared out of my mind,” I admit, easier to do without looking up into his dark eyes, safe in the half-darkness.

“That I was going crazy? That I wouldn’t be able to fight this?”

“No.” I rub my face on his shirt, over his thick pecs, feeling the piercings in his nipples under my cheek. “That you’d pull back more, put distance between us, not wanting to hurt me. It would kill me if I couldn’t be by your side through such a hard time.”

His hands slide up my bare arms, leaving behind goosebumps, and his strong fingers slide into my hair, tugging. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“I know.”

“But never in my right mind would I leave you.” He pulls my head back to look into my eyes, and his gaze is dark, yet clear and true like an arrow to my heart. “Fuck, woman, you won’t be getting rid of me so easily.”

That makes me laugh, and then I’m crying, the line between the two so blurred I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.

Exhaustion. Relief. Sadness. Love. Hope.

“You really are back?” I tug on him and he bends his head so that our mouths are inches apart. “For good?”

It’s as if he’s been on the other side of the moon, where I couldn’t reach him.

His brows draw together. “I’m trying. I need help.” He cups my face, brushes his thumbs over my mouth. “Even if my memories were real, my mind is kinda twisted. I’m going back to the therapist. Asher chewed my ear out about it, said I should. That talking about it will help stop the flashbacks and nightmares.”