Page 24 of Sterling Heat

“The nurses told me it’s okay to leave her here. I should go home, take a shower, and get some rest.”

Exactly as I thought. She needs to take care of herself because Adara needs her.

Enya is discharged from the hospital with a breast pump and a packet of instructions. The flowers I’d given her have seen better days and I toss the lot. She doesn’t have anything else to take with her. She lost another shoe in my bakery when she went into labor and she’s only wearing socks again.

After wheeling her out of the hospital and helping her into my truck, we sit in the cab.

“Where to? Do we head to Huntington to pick up your things or hit a local store for some fresh clothing?” Huntington is a good forty-five-minutes away. “Or do you want to go to my place for a shower first?”

From her seat, Enya sighs. “I should probably go to my place and pack up a few things. All my baby stuff is there.” She turns to look at me. “Are you sure about this? Babies have a lot of . . . stuff.”

“Positive.” I meet her eyes, dark and so sad looking. That look alone makes me want to take care of everything for her. “It’s only for a few weeks. And then your new home will be ready, right? Where is your new house?”

“It’s the Wallace farmhouse. Have you heard of it? I got the place for a steal, but it needed a lot of work.”

Of all the places she could have purchased, she bought that house? I bet it was a steal. A crime happened there. Some people claim the place is haunted. That ghost can fucking rot in hell for all I care.

“How’d you decide on that place?” I stare out the windshield, lost in my memories. A rundown room. The stench of drug-laced sweat. A fucking coward hiding in the shadows.

“Something just drew me to the place. It had character and charm, although it looked a little sad. Unloved. It’s improving nicely, though.” Optimism and hope fill her voice and I don’t have the heart to tell her the place holds a host of bad history and dark days. Glancing back at her, she’s watching me, eyes bright despite the faint signs of exhaustion beneath them. I want to reach across the seat and swipe her cheeks as if I can erase how tired she is. She’s still so gorgeous.

Then I remember that my hands are soiled and all the scrubbing in the world isn’t going to cleanse them enough to warrant touching a woman like Enya. A woman surviving on her own, on her terms. She’s going to rock the single-mom thing.

“You didn’t tell me you had pre-eclampsia.”

“I didn’t know until I was in the ambulance. I had an appointment to see my doctor on the day Adara was born. They’d been concerned about the unusual swelling in my hands and feet. The EMT told me I was lucky.” Her gaze holds on me. “I was lucky I had you.”

I snort. “Me? I didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t have been able to help you had something gone wrong.” Had she had a seizure or worse, I’m not medically trained in any way, and my throat thickens at the thought I could have lost her. I would never have gotten the time I’ve had to learn more about her if things had gone poorly in my bakery. “But I never would have let you go without a fight.”

Her eyes widen.

“Or Adara. I would have given her my last breath if I had to.”

“Sebastian.” Enya reaches across the console and squeezes my wrist. Her eyes fill with tears again. Every time she cries, it fucking shreds my heart.

Swiftly, I swipe at the first loose one with my thumb and catch another on her other cheek.

“I can’t seem to help them,” she says, explaining the waterworks. “I’m not typically so emotional, but with Adara . . .”

“I get it.” I’d never admit that seeing that baby girl has brought some unrecognizable emotions to me as well. A hint of hope. A dash of anticipation. Maybe a pinch of love when I have no right to love her. She isn’t mine and neither is this woman.

With that thought, I pull back my hand and press the ignition button. My truck roars to life. “To Huntington we go.”

Enya’s eyes are on me, but I don’t acknowledge them as I reverse out of the hospital lot and start the trek to her place, helping her move into mine, because I can’t seem to let her go.

Like I’ve said, I’m an idiot.

+ + +

Four hours later, my apartment above the bakery is an explosion of baby things. Not knowing when Adara would be released from the NICU, we grabbed all the essentials for a newborn. A bassinet. The baby car seat. A stroller. Some kind of bouncy seat slash swing combination. A suitcase of clothes for Adara and another two for Enya.

And when I say we, I mean me because Enya shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy, and her first wince was my hint she was doing too much.

My apartment sanctuary was a labor of love. I really needed my own space when I returned to Sterling Falls. And when I decided to buy the bakery, the second floor was a mess. I ripped out everything, including most walls. Only the two bedrooms and the bathroom are enclosed and even there, the walls don’t reach the full height of the twelve-foot ceiling. I never wanted to feel caged in again. The living room and kitchen are one open space with a large island that has four stools for seating. As I don’t entertain and I eat alone, I didn’t need a dining table. The living space consists of a leather couch with an extended side perfect for full-body lounging, and a fifty-five inch, high-definition television with a gaming system below it.

The tall, arched windows offer tons of natural light and the exposed brick on the walls gives this place character. Charm, like Enya said of the old Wallace place.

Despite the sudden mess, Enya looks at me all exhausted and asks, “May I take a shower?”