The first time Rath holds her, he looks all shifty and nervous, as though he’s done some indescribable criminal act. It makes Story give a slow, tired laugh, which seems to ease some of the tension in his shoulders. “So you’re what all the fuss is about, huh?” Rath asks the baby, carefully cradling her head. Her little fists, which had been squirming around, stiffen before going still. Rath’s head snaps back as he observes her. “You recognize my voice?” She responds by essentially going limp in his hands, and Rath is a pretty stoic guy most of the time, but right now, there are too many emotions on his face to quantify. He presses a kiss to her forehead, whispering something that’s almost too low to hear.
Almost.
He tells her, “I’d definitely go commercial for you.”
I don’t know what that means, but it makes Story’s lip wobble, like maybe she wants to start crying again.
When it’s my turn, I shove my hands into my pockets and back away. “Uh, maybe later.”
Rath gives me a long, dark look. “Later.”
I shrug, avoiding his gaze. “I’m all dirty and my nerves are shot. What if I drop her or something?”
There’s a quick beat of silence before Rath replies, “Shut the fuck up and hold your daughter, you gigantic pussy. Jesus Christ, you’re a quarterback. You won’t drop her.” He thrusts her at me, but in this really slow, tender way that makes my stomach seize with anxiety, because he’s right.
I’ve never been so terrified in my fucking life.
Sweating bullets, I pull my fists from my pockets and reluctantly put a palm beneath her back. Luckily, Tristian is there to coach me. “Support her head,” he says, moving close to guide me. He keeps a palm beneath her, too, even when I finally have her in my hands—seven pounds of absolute terror. When Tristian goes to pull away, I blurt, “Wait!”
He rolls his eyes, but stays close, which is a slight comfort.
She’s so tiny, but so inexplicably huge.
The size of my hands dwarfs her, and for a long second, all I can think is that these are dirty hands. Hands that have killed people. Hands that have beat men to a gruesome pulp. Hands that have pressed bruises into her mother’s flesh. It feels like all it’d take is a twitch for me to ruin everything.
Then her little mouth opens in a wide yawn, and she burrows deep in the blanket, toward the protection of my palms. Just watching her, feeling her after all these months, causes my heart to flip-flop in my chest and I just snap the fuck out of it.
I look up at Story, and she gives me an exhausted grin. I lift an eyebrow, “We still good on the name?”
“Yes,” she says. “I think it’s perfect.”
“She’s going to flip,” Rath says, running a hand over his worn, exhausted face.
“She’ll love it,” Story says.
Tristian smoothes the blanket over Story’s legs. “We may never hear the end of it.”
Story lifts her arms, asking for the baby, and carefully I hand her back over, making sure to support her head. Although I won’t admit it, Rath’s not wrong. It kind of is like holding a football.
Story peers down at the baby’s pink, pinched face and says, “Melody Delores.”
We all agreed on giving the baby the middle name Delores. Without her, we never would have survived that night of the home invasion. Story picked the name Melody, though. She said stories are better when they’re set to a tempo, a voice, an expression, and a melody to bring them together.
It’s how I know I could never be my father. We were a lot of things, but never this. Never family. It took blood, sweat, and tears to build my own. Over the years, we’ve weaved together the pain of love, the wrath of loss, and the mercy of forgiveness. This is what it means to love something more than yourself, and this is what we’ve created with it.
Our own little Kingdom.
Sneak Peek!
Ready for a sneak peek of what’s coming next?
The crowns of Forsyth Royalty aren’t built with jewels. They’re forged in blood and sacrifice.
The Lords never expected Story Austin to walk back into their life.
They certainly never thought she’d rise to be their Queen.
But they aren’t the only Royals in Forsyth.
The Dukes are known for winning with their fists, but transforming Lavinia Lucia from the Kings’ captive to their unwilling Duchess will be their biggest match yet.
The saga continues in book 4 of the contemporary, dark reverse harem Royals of Forsyth series, where the Duke’s reign will be one of Ruin, Fury and Madness.