Chapter 23 Lina #2
I bit my lip, suddenly nervous. “I think I’m ready to see her. The baby.” I swallowed hard. “I want to hold her. Meet her properly.”
He stopped walking and turned to look at me, his gray eyes searching my face. “Yeah?”
I nodded, my heart beating faster. “I’m ready.”
Knox’s expression softened, a mix of hope and tenderness crossing his features. He lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
“Then let’s go see Sarah.”
The walk to Sarah’s house took about fifteen minutes.
Knox told me along the way that she had moved to Ravenshollow shortly after returning from her vacation, wanting to help me with the twins and the baby and the pregnancy.
Her house was smaller than ours but cozy, with flowers in the window boxes and a welcome mat at the door that said “Wipe Your Paws.”
I snorted when I saw it. “Did you get her that?”
“Hunt did, actually. He thinks he’s hilarious.”
“He’s not wrong.”
Knox knocked on the door and we waited. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. What if I held my baby and felt nothing? What if I couldn’t connect with her?
The door swung open and there she was. The elderly woman from the hospital, the one who had grabbed my face and cried when I woke up. Sarah. My grandmother in every way that mattered.
“Lina!” Her face lit up and she pulled me into a hug before I could say anything. She smelled like lavender and fresh baked bread, and the scent triggered a flash of memory. Standing in a kitchen, flour on my hands, a younger version of this woman teaching me to knead dough.
“Sarah,” I breathed, and tears pricked at my eyes.
She pulled back and cupped my face in her weathered hands, studying me with those kind eyes. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”
“Better,” I admitted. “Some memories have been coming back. Not everything. But some.”
“That’s wonderful.” She smiled, genuine and warm. “The rest will come. And even if it doesn’t, we’ll make new memories. That’s what we do.”
She ushered us inside, fussing over me the entire way. Did I want tea? Was I hungry? Had Knox been taking care of me properly? She shot him a suspicious look at that last question, and he held up his hands in surrender.
“I’m doing my best, Sarah. I swear.”
“Hmph. You better be.”
The inside of her house was exactly what I would have expected. Comfortable furniture, family photos everywhere, the smell of baking cookies wafting from the kitchen. It felt homey and safe.
And then I heard it.
A soft cry from the back room. High pitched and newborn, unmistakably a baby.
My whole body went still.
Sarah’s expression gentled. “She just woke up from her nap. Perfect timing.” She looked at me carefully. “Are you ready?”
Was I? I had no idea. But I nodded anyway.
Sarah disappeared down the hallway and returned a moment later with a bundle in her arms. A small bundle wrapped in a soft yellow blanket, with a tiny face peeking out.
My daughter.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Knox’s hand found the small of my back, steady and reassuring.
“Do you want to hold her?” Sarah asked gently.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Sarah placed the baby in my arms, adjusting my hold so I was supporting her head properly. The weight of her was so slight, so delicate. She was so small. How could anything be this small?
I looked down at her face and my heart cracked open.
She had Knox’s dark hair, just a little tuft of it on the top of her head. But her eyes, when they blinked open, were mine. Warm brown, with the same shape, the same depth. She looked up at me with unfocused newborn eyes, and her tiny mouth opened in a yawn.
Tears streamed down my face.
“Hi,” I whispered. “Hi, baby girl. I’m your mama.”
She made a soft cooing sound, her little fist waving in the air. I caught it gently, marveling at how tiny her fingers were. Perfect miniature fingers with perfect miniature nails.
“She’s beautiful,” I choked out. “Knox, she’s so beautiful.”
He was beside me, his arm around my shoulders, his own eyes suspiciously wet. “She looks just like you.”
“She has your hair.”
“Poor kid.”
I laughed through my tears. “Your hair is gorgeous and you know it.”
Sarah was watching us with a soft smile, her hands clasped in front of her chest. “She’s been waiting for you, you know. Every day, I’d bring her to the hospital and she’d get quiet when I held her near your bed. As if she knew you were there.”
My heart squeezed. A month. I had missed a month of my daughter’s life. Her first weeks in this world, and I hadn’t been there for any of it.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the baby. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
Knox’s arm tightened around me. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”
The baby started to fuss, her little face scrunching up, her cries getting louder. Sarah chuckled.
“Someone’s hungry. I’ve got bottles ready, but...” She hesitated, looking at me. “You’ve been pumping this whole time. She’s been drinking your milk. If you wanted to try nursing...”
Panic fluttered in my chest. I had never nursed before. At least, not that I could remember. What if I did it wrong? What if she wouldn’t latch? What if I hurt her somehow?
“I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, my voice small.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. I can help you. It’s the most natural thing in the world, but it takes practice.”
She guided me to a comfortable chair and helped me get positioned. Knox hovered nearby, clearly unsure if he should stay or go.
“Sit down,” I told him. “I want you here.”
He sat immediately, pulling a chair close so he could be right beside me.
Sarah showed me how to hold the baby, how to position her at my breast. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. And then, the moment I had her in the right position, my body just... knew.
My arms adjusted automatically, cradling her in a way that felt practiced and familiar. Because it was. I had done this before, I realized. With the twins. My body remembered even if my mind didn’t.
The baby latched immediately.
The sensation was strange and new and overwhelming. My daughter, feeding from my body. Taking nourishment that I was providing. It was the most intimate, primal thing I had ever experienced.
“Oh,” I breathed, staring down at her.
She was suckling contentedly, her little eyes closed, her tiny hand resting against my breast. She looked peaceful. Happy. Safe.
I looked up at Knox. He was watching us with an expression I couldn’t quite read. Awe, maybe. Love, definitely. His gray eyes were bright with unsuppressed emotion, and there was a smile on his lips, soft and reverent.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” He shook his head, but the smile remained. “You’re just... you’re incredible, Lina. You know that?”
“I’m just feeding our baby.”
“Yeah.” His voice was rough. “And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I felt my face flush, but I didn’t look away from him. This man. My mate. The father of my children. The one who had waited for me, who had fought for me, who loved me even when I couldn’t remember to love him back.
The baby made a soft sound, drawing my attention back to her. She had stopped feeding and was looking up at me again with those big brown eyes. I shifted her to my shoulder without thinking, patting her back gently, and a moment later a tiny burp escaped her.
I blinked. I had done that automatically. Without instruction. My body just knew.
“Good girl,” I murmured, settling her back into my arms.
She yawned again, her eyes drooping. Within minutes, she was asleep, her little body warm and heavy against my chest.
I didn’t want to put her down. I wanted to hold her forever, to make up for every moment I had missed.
“What’s her name?” I asked suddenly. The question had been nagging at me, but I had been afraid to ask. Afraid that I should know. Afraid of what it would mean that I didn’t.
Knox and Sarah exchanged a look.
“We were waiting for you,” Knox said quietly. “We didn’t want to name her without you.”
Fresh tears spilled down my cheeks. “You waited?”
“Of course we waited. She’s your daughter too. You should have a say in what she’s called.”
I looked down at the sleeping baby in my arms. This tiny perfect person who had grown inside me, who I had brought into this world, who I would love and protect for the rest of my life.
A name floated up from somewhere deep in my memory. A name that felt right, that felt meaningful.
“Blake,” I said softly. “I want to call her Blake.”
Knox went completely still.
When I looked up at him, tears were streaming down his face. His jaw was clenched, his hands trembling, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding himself together.
“Knox?” I whispered, suddenly worried I had done the wrong thing.
He shook his head, unable to speak. Then he was on his knees beside my chair, his forehead pressed against my thigh, his shoulders heaving with silent sobs.
“Knox,” I said again, reaching down to run my fingers through his hair.
“You remember him,” he managed, his voice broken. “You remember Blake.”
“Your brother,” I said softly. “Noah’s twin. I remember... pieces. I remember he was important. I remember he was loved.” I paused, looking down at our daughter. “I want her to carry his name. Is that okay?”
Knox lifted his head, his gray eyes red rimmed and raw with emotion. He reached up and cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away my tears.
“It’s more than okay,” he said hoarsely. “It’s perfect. Blake is perfect.”
Sarah was crying now too, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s beautiful, sweetheart. Just beautiful.”
I held my daughter, Blake, close to my chest and let the tears fall. Tears of joy, of grief, of overwhelming love. I had missed so much. But I was here now. And I would never miss another moment.
Knox leaned in and pressed a kiss to my forehead, then to Blake’s.
“My girls,” he murmured against my skin. “My perfect girls.”
We stayed at Sarah’s for another hour, talking and laughing and passing Blake back and forth. By the time we left, the sun was setting and I was exhausted in the best possible way.
Knox carried Blake in her car seat, and I walked beside him, my hand in his, my heart fuller than it had ever been.