Be My Hero (Forbidden Men 3)

en, needle-stuck hand as she held it out to me. Shit, her grip was weak. "You did good, Tink. That little girl is so damn cute." I leaned down and kissed her cheek.

Turning my way, she brushed the side of her face against mine. "Thank you. Thank you so much for being there tonight. You saved both me and my little girl."

A trembling breath shuddered from my lungs. I pressed my forehead to hers and finally let some of my feelings slip. "I almost got you killed, is what I did. I listened to you guys talk, and I didn't step in. Not until it was too fucking late. I am so, so sorry I let him that close to you."

A hand touched my hair. I closed my eyes.

"Listen to me, Patrick Jason Ryan. You are my hero, and you have nothing to apologize for."

She must've sensed I didn't believe her because she tightened her grip. "You are. You're my hero."

"I'm still sorry," I whispered, unable to combat the guilt.

"I'm not." She shook her head and sent me a trembling smile. If you hadn't come over tonight, I'd be dead right now. My daughter would be dead right now. Why can't you understand that?"

I opened my lashes and met her gaze. Maybe this was the reason I'd had those glimpses. If I hadn't seen her in my head, I wouldn't have been fascinated with her for the past ten years, ergo I wouldn't have been so eager to visit Mason's house tonight. And if I hadn't come over, no one would've been here to stop her ex from killing her. Leaning in, I kissed our entwined hands, so very grateful she was still alive.

"I'll never let anything bad ever happen to you again. I swear it."

It was a promise I meant from the bottom of my soul.

Chapter 14

EVA

From that day forward, my life changed completely.

As soon as I could walk and the nurses allowed me to leave my hospital bed, I shuffled like a stoop-shouldered old woman to the NICU to sit with Skylar. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. But looking at her scared the crap out of me. She was so little, so breakable and delicate. How was I supposed to protect her and care for her? I knew absolutely nothing about any of this.

It didn't seem to matter how many parenting articles I'd read, nothing had prepared me for this. This was real.

A nurse entered while I was sitting in the rocking chair, my arm resting inside the hand hole of the incubator to softly pet her miniature fingers.

"Sweetie, you probably need to head back to your room and get some rest now. You've been here quite a while. We don't want you to have a setback."

I barely even looked at her as I studied the little cowlick in my baby's hairline. How the hell had Pick gotten that right?

Maybe I'd just imagined the description he'd given me of her. There were a lot of fuzzy spots in my memories of the night she was born.

"I'm okay." I didn't want to leave her yet. I didn't think it was possible to love something so much. My chest felt completely full. I could've sat in that chair and just watched her sleep and breathe for the rest of my life.

"Does she need a blanket?" I asked when her tiny frame shuddered in her sleep as if she were shivering. "She looks cold."

The nurse's lips pinched with irritation. "She's fine. But you really need to get back to your own room. They said you just got off dialysis yesterday. You don't want to overdo it."

I nodded as if agreeing, but answered, "Just a little bit longer."

With a grumble, she spun away and stalked off. When I heard the phrase, " . . . typical single teen mother. Thinks she knows everything . . . " I turned and stared after her, watching the extra twenty pounds of weight on her waistline shift back and forth as she marched off in an angry huff.

I don't know why I let her comment get to me. Maybe it was leftover pregnancy hormones swimming through my veins, the start of some baby blues, or normal insecurity issues of a typical new nineteen-year-old mom. But tears immediately filled my eyes. I turned back to my child, small and helpless, fighting for her life, and the floodgate opened even more.

What the hell did I think I was doing?

I'd gone into this with my usual fake confidence, thinking sure I could raise a kid. Millions of women popped out babies every year. Why would I have a problem with it? And look, I'd almost gotten Skylar killed.

I sobbed even harder, my chest heaving. I had to pull my hand free of Skylar's incubator and bury my face in both my palms to muffle the gut-wrenching sounds so I wouldn't wake her.

She was here, like this, because I was unfit, because—