Series: Silver Spoon MC Series by Nichole Rose
Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 38632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38632 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
"You aren't a hypocrite," Hadley says, squeezing my hand again. "You lost your sister, Samara. You're allowed to be angry and frightened and confused. Anyone would be. Despite everything, you still gave Tate a chance. You still gave us a chance. That takes courage."
"I don't feel very brave," I mutter. Right now, I feel the exact opposite of brave.
"I know a certain surgeon who would beg to differ," she says, grinning at me.
Before I can respond, the door to the waiting room opens.
My breath stalls in my throat.
Tate steps into the room, dressed in scrubs, a green cap on his head, matching green booties on his feet. His emerald eyes immediately come to me, his expression somber. I can't tell if it's good news or bad news.
I jump to my feet. I don't think my heart even beats on my way across the room to him.
He meets me halfway.
Complete silence permeates the room. The only sound is the loud thud of my heart.
"She's okay, angel," Tate says as soon as I stop in front of him. "She's okay."
My legs give out beneath me, the weight of the world falling from my shoulders.
Tate catches me before I hit the floor, dragging me into his arms.
I cling to him, sobbing in relief.
Chapter Nine
Tate
"Samara," I whisper, brushing strands of hair away from her face. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty."
"No," she whines, her bottom lip poking out. "It's too early, Tate. Make rounds at a normal person hour for once."
I chuckle, running my fingertips down the side of her face. "Scout's already awake, angel."
She cracks one sleepy eye open, her expression rife with suspicion. "Are you just saying that to get me out of bed?"
"Is it working?" I fight a smile.
"Maybe."
"See for yourself." I lean to the left, allowing her to see the crib.
Scout's strapped into her bouncy seat inside, her wide, solemn eyes locked on Samara through the slats of the crib. Ever since we stopped the sedation drugs two days after her surgery, she spends her time watching the world in abject fascination. Samara is her favorite subject of study. Whenever she's near, Scout's eyes are locked on her.
"Hi, baby," Samara croons, instantly coming alive. She sits upright, her face lighting up with happiness. She rises to her feet, stretching her arms over her head. Her shirt lifts, showing a flash of her sun-kissed skin.
My dick throbs, demanding attention we both know he isn't getting. Not today. It's been a little over four weeks since Scout's surgery. There have been highs and lows, good days, and days that worried the fuck out of me. There were days where Samara wouldn't leave her bedside for even a second, too afraid something would happen if she stepped away. Hell, there were days I didn't leave her bedside, worried as fuck something would happen if I did. But Scout…well, nothing stops Scout. She was born with a warrior's spirit as fierce as her mom's and a heart as pure as her aunt's.
She's the strongest little girl I've ever met. I'm so in love with her. My brothers give me all kinds of grief about it. I don't care. Let them. I held this baby's heart in my hands, painstakingly stitching her back together. You're damn right I'm wrapped around her finger. I'd go to war for her, just like I would her aunt.
After four weeks, we're finally going home. I can't wait to get my girls to Silver Spoon Falls. I can't wait to see Scout grow and thrive outside of the hospital. I can't wait to fall asleep with Samara in my arms, our girl right down the hall. There are a million things I can't wait to experience with these two. Mostly though, I can't wait to have them under my roof, where I can keep an eye on them. Samara won't let me stay overnight at the hospital with them unless I'm off duty, so the last four weeks have come with far too many sleepless nights.
I miss the hell out of my girls when they're here and I'm not. They belong with me.
"Good morning, my sweet, sweet girl," Samara croons to Scout, padding toward the crib. She lowers the side rail and then unlatches the straps keeping Scout in her seat.
Scout kicks her tiny feet, cooing softly.
Samara gently lifts her out of the seat and into her arms, cradling her close. Her nose skims along Scout's crown as she inhales deeply, pulling that fresh baby scent into her lungs. She says she loves the way Scout smells because, no matter what she's going through or how many wires or bandages she has, she always smells like a baby.
She's wire-free now. Her bandages are gone too. Scout has blossomed over the last couple of weeks, shedding monitoring equipment piece by piece. We kept her a little longer than strictly necessary to make sure there weren't going to be more setbacks or complications, but she's finally out of the woods.