Chapter Two Eason Storm
I wasn’t supposed to still be in this damn waiting room. After handling that raggedy-ass nurse, I could’ve walked off and minded my business. But I didn’t instead, I found myself watching her.
The way her fingers tapped against her knees.
The way her shoulders stayed locked tight, like she was holding the whole damn world up with a spine already splintering under pressure.
Her head rested back, eyes shut, but her exhaustion screamed louder than words.
She looked like she was seconds from falling apart.
I didn’t know her name. Didn’t know her story. But I knew pain when I saw it and something in me refused to walk away.
By the time I realized what I was doing I was already in front of her, crouching down to her level, thumb brushing across her cheek, wiping away tears she didn’t even know had fallen.
I noticed her breathing changed as her body stiffened beneath my touch.
She felt that. And so did I, that unspeakable spark that ignited the second my flesh met hers.
Her eyes opened slowly, and for the first time since I saw her, she wasn’t armored up. No attitude. No fight. Just pain. Raw and unfiltered. And beneath all that anger was something broken and beautiful.
I slid my fingers through hers, lacing them like they belonged to me. And for a second, she let me. But just as quickly, she yanked her hand away, blinking like she was snapping out of some kind of trance. Like she didn’t trust herself with whatever the hell this was.
She cleared her throat and straightened up, rubbing her palms against her thighs like she was trying to rub away the memory of my touch. “You still here?” she muttered, avoiding my eyes.
I smirked, leaning back on my heels. “Close your eyes and bow your head,” I said quietly.
Her brows pulled together, suspicion darkening her eyes. “Excuse me?” she scoffed. “I’m not doing that shit.”
I chuckled under my breath, shaking my head. “You always this damn stubborn?”
She didn’t answer, just glared at me like she was trying to figure out if I was real or just another illusion.
I leaned in, dropping my voice. “I don’t like repeating myself, Muffin. That shit triggers the crazy in me, and I’d rather save that for when we get married and I spend my days knocking you up with a bunch of babies.”
I let my eyes drag down her body, slow and deliberate, before squeezing her hand again. “But for now, just trust me and follow my lead.”
Her lips parted slightly, her body stiffening again. I had her attention now. She stared at me, but she wasn’t just looking at me. She was searching for something. Probably trying to make sense why this stranger was sitting in front of her, holding onto her like she belonged to me.
That moment stretched, thick with tension, until she blinked like she’d snapped back to reality and pulled away.
I let her have it. This time.
Lacing my fingers together, I leaned forward, bowing my head. “God, I know me and you ain’t exactly cool. I’ve sent a few folks to meet you ahead of schedule, and I’m probably not one of your favorites. But I need a favor.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her body tremble.
“That little boy back there, he’s hers. And she’s—” I let my words land heavy, “she’s mine.”
Her breathing hitched, but I kept going.
“I need you to cover them. Whatever sickness, whatever pain, whatever demon trying to break her spirit—I need you to block it. Bring her baby back to her, healthy and whole. She’s already lost too much. And I swear, if she loses anything else, I’ll burn this whole city down.”
I lifted my head, eyes finding hers. “So, if you won’t do it for me, do it for her. She deserves that much.”
Tears streamed freely down her face now. Her lips trembled, but she didn’t look away.
“How did you know I lost something?” She whispered, her voice so fragile it damn near shattered in the air between us.
I reached up; thumb brushing away the new tears sliding down her cheeks. Letting it linger longer than I should.
“Your eyes.” I said softly, locking onto them like they were pulling something out of me I didn’t even know existed.
They were a deep, earthy brown—rich like the ground after rain. But beneath all that beauty was something heavy. Something ancient. Like grief had moved in and made a home. Her lashes framed them thick and slow, blinking like they were scared of letting too much slip.
“They hold a story,” I murmured. “One no one else knows the weight of ‘cause you ain’t let ‘em. One buried so deep, you don’t even got the words for it. But I see it. I feel it.”
I exhaled slow; thumb still stroking the curve of her cheek. “And I don’t know why yet, but I know I ain’t meant to walk away from you.”
For once, she didn’t offer a slick comeback. And I wasn’t looking for one. Whatever this was—this heat, this gravity—it wasn’t letting up.
“Lil’ man’s gonna be alright.” I told her, letting my voice carry the weight of certainty.
She swallowed hard, lifting her gaze. “And how do you know that?”
I lifted her chin gently, making sure she was looking straight at me.
“Because you’re his mother,” I said, calm but firm. “And with a woman as fierce and strong as you raising him, he don’t got a choice but to be a warrior. You did everything you were supposed to, Muffin. Now you just gotta trust the rest will fall into place.”
I watched her breathing shift, her shoulders drop—just a little. But enough to know my words had landed.
I let my thumb graze her face, smirking. “Didn’t you just hear the conversation I had with the man upstairs?” I leaned in, eyes steady on hers. “I might’ve sent a few souls back to sender, but he fucks with me. So, I know he’s got you too.”
She parted her lips about to respond, but a voice cut through the silence before she could speak.
“Mr. Storm?”
My name rang across the waiting room, slicing the moment clean. I barely turned my head before I felt her tense beside me. Her shoulders went rigid, her breath caught like my name had just sucker punched her straight in the chest.
“You can come back now,” the doctor said. “Your daughter’s awake.”
Glancing over at her, I could see her eyes widened, her lips parted slightly, and that little bit of hope she was holding onto flickered out like a candle in the wind.
I turned back to the doctor, my jaw clenched. “Yo, do me a favor and get me an update on her son,” I ordered. “Then have him moved to the private room with Ginger.”
Her head snapped up, her voice barely above a whisper. “Excuse me?”
I bent toward her, keeping my voice steady. “I told you, lil’ man gonna be alright. And from now on, you’re not handling shit alone.”
But the second the words left my mouth, she snapped upright.
“The hell you mean have him moved?” She hissed, low and sharp, her voice slicing through me. “You don’t get to make decisions for my son.”
I exhaled slowly, already knowing where this was going. Here she go, ready to be difficult as hell.
“He’ll be better taken care of in a private room,” I said, keeping my tone calm. “And I got doctors who’ll check on him, make sure he’s getting the best care.”
Her face twisted into something between anger and disbelief, like I’d just tried to rewrite the whole damn definition of motherhood in front of her.
“Your doctors?” She scoffed, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “Yeah, no. I don’t need your help, and I damn sure don’t need you calling in favors for me and my son.”
I clenched my jaw, biting back my frustration. So damn stubborn.
“Muffin, this ain’t about you,” I said, locking eyes with her. “It’s about him. Let me fucking do this.”
She took a step back, shaking her head. Her whole body shifting, like she was preparing for a fight.
“Yeah, see, that’s the thing,” she muttered, her voice tight. “I don’t trust men who think they can just step in and take over. Last time I let a man handle things, I damn near lost everything.”
Ah. There it is.
This wasn’t about pride. This was about scars.
She wasn’t pushing back just to be difficult; she was guarding wounds that somebody else carved. I studied her for a second, watching the way her fingers balled into a tight fist like she was bracing herself for disappointment. Someone had fucked her up good.
Dragging my hand down my face, I exhaled slowly. “I ain’t that nigga,” I said. “I’m not here to control you. I’m here to show up. But if you’re too wounded to see that, fine. Just know I offered.”
She looked like she wanted to say more, but before she could, the doctor stepped back into the room.
“Ms. Carson, your son’s awake.”
She didn’t hesitate, didn’t say another word to me. She took off down the hall like her life depended on it.
I ran my hand down my face, releasing a breath before following behind her. Stubborn ass woman.
By the time I stepped into the room, she was already by her son’s bedside, fingers gently combing through his curls as she whispered something, only he could hear.
Her whole body curved toward him like a shield.
But my eyes drifted past them and landed on my baby girl, curled up in the hospital bed across from them, hugging her favorite stuffed bear, and still knocked out cold.
I expected Muffin to be focused on her son to notice. But the second her gaze flickered to Ginger; she froze and locked up. Her breathing hitched, her fingers clenching her son’s hand a little too tight.
She was staring at Ginger like she’d seen a ghost. Something about the way her face shifted made the air in the room turn heavy. She was tense as hell. I frowned, my eyes flicking between her and Ginger, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
“Mommy.” The little man’s eyes fluttered open, blinking at the brightness of the room, his face groggy and confused.
She blinked fast, like she was dragging herself back from someplace dark. Dropping her attention to him, she forced a smile, but I saw the crack in it. That shit didn’t hold.
“Hey, baby,” she whispered, brushing her hand over his forehead. “You scared me for a second.”
He blinked sluggishly, his little face pale but full of trust. Then out of nowhere, he looks straight at me and smile. Not at the doctors, not his mother but at me. And shit caught me off guard. That little smile hit me like a punch to the chest.
He stretched out his small arms, reaching for me like he’d known me his whole life. Like he trusted me instantly. Like he trusted me without needing a reason.
I noticed his mother go still; her breath caught again as she watched her son reach for a man he just met. But I didn’t hesitate as I stepped forward and scooped him like he’d always belonged there. His little frame curled against mine, his fingers gripping the front of my shirt like it was home.
Muffin’s eyes shined with a mix of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
But then her gaze shifted back to Ginger across the room, still knocked out and hugging her bear.
And that internal storm in her immediately came rushing back.
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, lips parting like she wanted to speak but nothing came out.
I didn’t know what had her rattled. Not yet. But something in my gut told me it was serious. And I wasn’t about to ignore it. Because without words or hesitation, her son had already picked me. And I’d already picked them both.
She could try pushing me away. Try pretending like she didn’t feel that this was something real.
But sooner or later, she’d see another side of me. The kind that don’t take kindly to being denied. And I don’t think she wants that.