Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Arbor
G racie and I spend the next couple of weeks in a bubble of safety, but it’s unsustainable. At some point, I’m going to have to go to work and stop sponging off their kindness. Gracie is somehow still asleep when I stumble out of bed on Saturday morning. A quick check assures me she’s breathing, and I make a stop in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen.
Nursing is no joke. I’m always some combination of thirsty and starving. Coming around the corner, I stop dead in my tracks.
Hayes is in front of the stove in low-slung gray sweats and nothing else. His back is covered in a massive cathedral with an altar and someone praying at it. Around the cathedral is an old-timey village or town, and just above his ass is a cemetery with several angel statues.
The image wraps around his sides toward his chest, and I’m impressed by how much ink he was hiding under those long sleeve T-shirts he’s so fond of.
Wow.
He has a lot of perfectly defined muscles lining his back.
I’ve never actually seen a guy with so many well-defined muscles. He clearly puts in time at the gym. I mean, other than working there and owning it. It’s obvious how well he stays in shape.
He spins around, like he’s about to head to the cabinet to grab plates, and those dark gray sweats fall even lower on his hips as he rocks on his heels.
Okay, so, fun fact. His tattoos continue along both sides and across his chest. They go up his pecs, just under his clavicles, and down his arms.
He spots me and grins. “Morning.” His abs and obliques flex as he swipes his brown curls back from his forehead.
“Just needed some water,” I say, shaking my cup.
My head bobbles up and down, like I can will him to ignore the fact I was checking him out.
That lazy smile on his face only widens, and my cheeks heat. There are dimples hiding under that full brown beard of his, and that feels unfair. It’s almost like the universe purposely stacked him with all the things that make my knees weak.
Hell, all three of the guys I’m currently living with seem to be filled to the brim with desirable traits.
It still confuses me how some omega with less baggage than I have hasn’t snatched them up.
“I can get out of your way.” Hayes slides to the side, gesturing to the refrigerator.
There was a time when I would have felt confident in my appearance, even first thing in the morning. That time is long gone. I think my confidence expired about the time I popped Gracie out on their couch.
Striding forward, I open the fridge and grab the water pitcher. I put it and my cup down on the counter and pull off the lid, but the wet stains on my shirt catch my attention.
My head falls back as it shakes.
There is no way this is my life.
The universe is evil.
I finally met a really hot pack of men, who are kind and that I would be lucky to build a future with, and I’ve never been more disgusting in my life. I’m so beat that I have to force myself to shower most days because sleep sounds way more appealing than smelling fresh.
My eyes ache, and I fight against the urge to burst into tears.
Hayes’s scent hits my nose just before my skin seems to sizzle with his warmth. His chin lands on my shoulder, and he slides a hand around my middle.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are this morning?” He kisses my cheek, tightening his hand on my stomach. “Because you’re radiant. Did you want me to grab the pieces for the pump?”
“I’m a mess, and we all know it.” I pat his hand. “But I appreciate you trying to rebuild my self-confidence. You could have warned me.”
He chuckles, and the warmth of his breath on my neck makes it very hard not to shiver. “Did you mistake me for Hael? I’m a gentleman. I was looking at your face, but if you’re giving me permission to check out your tits?—”
“Hayes!” I laugh, popping my butt back to push him away. “Yes, please. I need the pumps.”
Sometimes I think they might really be flirting with me, but it’s more likely that they’re trying to help build up my confidence. That way, I’ll meet someone and get the hell out of their house.
His hand relocated to my hip when he moved, and he gives it a quick pat. “On it, sweetheart. Does this mean I get to warm a bottle for Gracie?”
“Warm a bottle,” Morris says, coming into the room. “This little heathen has already tried to nurse from my cheek, and she just went for my nipple. She’s convinced she’s starving , but I’ll be feeding her.” Morris chuckles.
Turning around, I lean against the counter and pull up my arm to block my chest. “She was asleep when I woke up, but I fed her at six.” I glance around for the clock and grimace. “It’s been a little over two hours. I bet she is convinced she’s starving. Do you want me to feed her?”
Hayes appears in front of me, handing off the portable pumps.
“Nah, I’ve got her.” Morris cradles her in his massive hands, keeping her face close to his. “I heard her as I was coming down the stairs, but she wasn’t crying. She’s bright-eyed and happy this morning.”
My breathing quickens as I take in his strong form.
Morris is the tallest, with the widest shoulders and a muscular chest, but he’s not cut or defined like Hayes and Hael. Next to him, I feel a little like a Barbie doll, which is hot because I’m still carrying around at least an extra thirty pounds from my pregnancy.
Gracie starts to tut, which is what I call the sound when she’s sputtering like a full-blown cry is on the way. My tits definitely recognize the sound, and they ache with the feeling that comes right before I start hardcore leaking.
I stride toward the hallway with the pumps in my hands. “Be back. Sorry. It’s an emergency.”
Hayes chuckles. “I’ll have your plate ready.”
“Tell Mommy to take her time,” Morris says, obviously talking to Gracie. “We’re fine. Enjoy a few minutes to yourself.” He really is thoughtful, and it makes me smile like a goober as I rush down the hall.
There’s a marked change in how long Gracie sleeps over the next week. She snoozes for two hours, sometimes two and a half.
I find myself waking her to nurse for almost an entire week in a row, and I mistakenly assume it’s a trend.
It’s not.
Week three rolls around, and it’s like we’re right back to night one in the hospital. She sleeps for forty-five minutes and wakes up wailing. Other times, she’ll rest for an hour or an hour and a half, but even after feeding, she’s inconsolable.
It’s frustrating, and I spend days in a sleepless haze of wondering where I went wrong.
After five or six days of this nonsense, I still can’t figure out what changed. She’s not even content when she’s on my chest, but I can’t lie down with her for fear I’ll fall asleep.
Holding her, I sway back and forth, and that soothes her a little. I keep that up for a while until her eyes get heavy, then a little longer just to be safe. Once ten or more minutes have passed, I try to put her down in her bassinet. She stays quiet long enough for me to get to the edge of the bed before starting to fuss again.
I’ve heard about postpartum rage or anger that comes from nowhere.
The fact my foot stamps against the floor, and I let out a sound something like a growl, has me stumbling back a step.
This isn’t me.
I’m not an angry person, but it feels like the world has it out for me. It’s the constant upheaval since I left Arizona. The fact I didn’t even get to have a relaxed and safe birth at the hospital—which then leads to another round of me beating myself up about how I handled things that night.
And it goes on while Gracie wails.
I stomp over to the bassinet, struggling with the tears that burn in my eyes.
A heavy sigh escapes as I lift Gracie. She continues to fuss as I rock her, but it’s nothing compared to before.
My stomach churns with some combination of frustration and guilt. She’s clearly happier when she’s being held, but I need rest too.
I’m trying so hard to be a good mom. To do everything right. And I’m still failing at everything.
“Shh, we’re okay,” I hiccup as the tears fall. I’m in motion, heading out of the bedroom before I can stop myself. I’m feeling a little like I’m losing my mind, and that means it’s time to suck it up and ask for help.
I make my way up the stairs and down the hallway until I come to a stop at Morris’s door.
This is so embarrassing, but he told me if I needed anything, all I had to do was say the word. And I really need some support right now.
He doesn’t answer when I knock gently, so I open the handle and walk inside.
Gracie is no longer sobbing, but that’s because I’ve been moving. She loves the motion of walking or swaying. It’s just when I stop that the never-ending crying starts back up.
Morris lies stretched out on his bed with an arm thrown over his eyes.
It’s dark and the room smells like rich coffee. I bounce Gracie to try to keep her quiet as I come to a stop at the edge of the bed.
“Morris?” I whisper. His legs stretch under the comforter, but he doesn’t respond. Cradling Gracie to my shoulder, I bend and give him a gentle shove. “Morris…”
His arm flies from covering his face, and he wraps his forearm around my backside. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I frown, shaking my head. “We’re okay. I’m sorry to wake you, I just really need some help. Gracie won’t stop crying. She’s been so fussy the last few days, and?—”
“Okay, let me take over.” Morris’s huge hand slides over my lower back, and he sits up. “She has been extra fussy. I wonder if it could be colic.”
I place Gracie in the crook of his arm, my shoulders bouncing. “I have no idea. She has an appointment in a few days, but maybe I should take her in before that?”
“Maybe.” He rocks Gracie against his chest and scoots deeper into his bed. “We can keep an eye on how she’s acting. If your mommy intuition is telling you something isn’t right, then it couldn’t hurt to get her checked out.” His hand falls from my back, and he pats the mattress. “Why don’t you snuggle in my bed? I’ll take Gracie back down to your room. I can warm up some of the expressed breast milk for her next feed.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, tugging back the comforter and climbing onto the bed.
“You rest. I’ll feed her the next go round. Do you want me to wake you up for the one after that, or do you want to sleep until you wake up naturally?”
My arm flies to my chest, pushing back against my breasts. I have no idea why, but sometimes I can tell if I’m going to need to pump or feed her relatively soon. “Yeah, you probably better wake me for the next one.”
He smiles, nodding at the pillows.
“Sounds good. Now, you get some sleep.” Morris tugs the blanket up and twists, kissing my cheek.
His lips are warm, and a huge part of me wishes he could cuddle next to me while I fall back to sleep, but someone has to take care of Gracie. Being surrounded by his scent will have to do.