The SEAL's Secret Heirs
“Of course. He’ll want to talk to you, too. We all want to see Maddie running alongside her sister and blowing out candles on her birthday cakes for a long time to come. When Dr. Reese is free, he’ll be out,” Clare promised, and extended her hand toward the waiting room outside the pediatric unit. “Why don’t you have a seat until then.”
Clare bustled back into the room she’d materialized from, and Kyle nearly followed her because the waiting room was for people who had the capacity to wait, and that did not describe Kyle.
But Hadley’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Let the doctor do his thing, Kyle. You’ll only be in the way.”
Long minutes stretched as Kyle hovered outside his daughter’s room. What was taking so long? Pacing didn’t help. It hurt. Everything inside hurt. Finally, another nurse dared approach him, explaining that the hall needed to be clear in case of emergency. Wouldn’t he please take a seat?
He did, for no other reason than it would be a relief to get off his leg. Now if only he could find something to do with his hands.
People began filtering into the waiting room. Mac McCallum came to sit with Liam and Hadley, who promptly excused herself to fill out paperwork for Maddie, which she’d offered to do in Kyle’s stead so he could be available the moment the doctor came out with news. Hadley’s friend Kori came in and took a seat next to Liam.
They all had smiles and words of encouragement for Kyle. Some had stories of how Maddie was a fighter and how many people had sat with her through the night when she was known as Baby Janey. This community had embraced his daughter before they’d even known whom she belonged to. And now that they did, nothing had changed. They still cared. They were all here to provide support during a crisis, which is what the very best of neighbors did.
And then the air shifted, prickling Kyle’s skin. He looked up.
Grace.
She rushed into the room, brown curls flying, and knelt by his chair, bringing the scent of spring and innocence and everything good in the world along with her. As he soaked up her presence, he took his first easy breath since Hadley’s message to Liam had upended his insides.
“I came as soon as Hadley called me,” she said, her brown eyes huge and distressed as her gaze flitted over him.
The muffled hospital noises and people and everything around them faded as they focused on each other. Greedily, he searched her beautiful face for some hint as to her thoughts. Was she getting any sleep? Did she miss him?
She slid her hand into his and held on. “I’m sorry about Maddie. How are you doing?”
“Okay,” he said gruffly.
Better now. Much better. How was it possible that the woman who continually ripped his heart out could repair it instantly just by walking into a room?
It was a paradox he didn’t understand.
She climbed into the next chair, her grip on his hand never lessening. Her skin warmed his, and it was only then that he realized how cold he’d been.
“What did Dr. Reese say?” she asked.
Did everyone in town know the name of his daughter’s pediatrician? “He hasn’t been out yet. The nurse, Ms. Connelly, said her fever might be causing problems with her heart, but we don’t know anything for sure.”
His voice broke then, as sheer overwhelming helplessness swamped him, weighing down his arms and legs when all he wanted to do was explode from this chair and go pound on someone until they fixed his precious little bundle of pink.
“Oh, no.” Grace’s free hand flew to her mouth in anguish. “That’s the one thing we were hoping wouldn’t happen.”
He nodded, swallowing rapidly so he could speak.
“Thanks,” he said. “For coming.”
He wouldn’t have called her. But now that she was here Grace was exactly what he’d needed, and he never would have taken steps to make it happen. What if she’d said no? But she hadn’t, and he didn’t care about anything other than sitting here waiting on news about his daughter with the woman he loved. Still. In spite of everything.
If only it made a difference.
Eleven
Grace normally loved being at Royal Memorial because 99 percent of the time, she was there because someone was giving birth. That was a joyous event worthy of celebration. Waiting on news about the health and well-being of Kyle’s baby was hands down one of the most stressful things she’d ever done.
At the same time, it was turning into a community event, the kind that strengthened ties and bonded people together. And she hadn’t let go of Kyle’s hand once. People seemed unsurprised to see them together. Not that they were “together.” But they were easy with each other in a way that probably looked natural to others.