Ready-Made Family. Cheryl Wyatt
have prepared him for the horror striking Reece’s face. “Oh, no! You didn’t call them! They’ll hate Mommy and for sure think she’s bad now. If they take me, Mommy’ll hate you for callin’ the cops! Why did you? Grandpa and Grandma won’t help her. They’ll just yell and take me from her like they said!” Terror oozed from sodden eyes.
Why would they want to take Reece from her mother? Was she unfit? Or did the grandparents have issues not conducive to child rearing? What if they were cruel, and Ben telling Officer Stallings about them would cost Amelia custody?
Ben couldn’t have felt worse if a bullet whizzed through his ribs. Tumultuous questions blew through him like three hundred MPH winds—threatening to bow him sideways.
Questions that demanded answers.
For Reece’s sake, he would not rest or relent until he had them. He didn’t walk away from something like this. Didn’t turn his back on defenseless ones who cry out that something’s wrong and they can’t make it right. When someone couldn’t fight for themselves, Ben would do it for them. Had always been that way, took up for those who couldn’t take up for themselves.
Except his own brother.
But he had a second chance to make things right. Nothing could mess that up. He refused to let anything get in the way of taking over care of Hutton in his downtime. He’d figure out plans for what to do with Hutton during missions.
Wonderment stole over Ben as he studied Reece. So much like Hutton. Childlike. Dependent. Unconditionally loving. Reaching for normalcy. In need of security. Protection. Nurturing. His heart expanded then squeezed. This child had wiggled her way in it just that fast. When she’d burrowed beneath his arms and chosen to cling with trust that he had a feeling didn’t come easy, she’d embedded herself deep into his heart.
Compassion dropped Ben to his knees to place steadying hands on her moping shoulders. “Reece, listen, we had to call someone. I didn’t have a choice.”
Hurt and betrayal spun like violent hurricanes in the gulf of angry eyes. Like lightning reaching to earth, it jabbed across the space separating them, leaving regret smoldering in the carnage.
“Reece…”
Dark clouds of accusation hovered. Any trace of vulnerability fled her face. Except her bottom lip, which quivered like palm trees in a high wind as it fought to form words. “I thought you were mine and Bearby’s friend. If they come, they’ll take me away. If they take me from Mommy, Bearby and me will never, ever like you again…
“And neither will Mommy.”
Chapter Two
Amelia North awakened to the tallest Asian man she’d ever seen cradling her sleeping daughter. Fierce protectiveness roared to life and lifted Amelia’s shoulders from the bed despite the lancing pain.
But the scene in the nearby chair stilled her. Reece, a portrait of serenity, slept soundly. Her head rested on the stranger’s broad shoulder, a pillow of muscles on a pillar of strength. At least to her artist’s eye.
Childhood memories of naptime with her dad strolled through Amelia’s mind uninvited. Nostalgic father/daughter images stepped forward to hug her conscience. A hard lump formed in her throat. She stiffened her shoulders and swallowed, forcing it back down to that unfeeling place. Vaulted her heart shut against the emotional onslaught.
It hurt too much to feel. Hurt even worse to hope for restoration. She’d made too many mistakes, and forgiveness apparently didn’t exist in her father’s DNA.
Never mind that. What on earth was going on? Where was she? Amelia took in the room, feeling like she’d been dropped off in the twilight zone. The sterile environment, antiseptic smell and bland, generic room décor notified her that she’d obviously landed herself in a hospital or mental ward.
Then she remembered.
Parking lot. Wave upon wave of dizziness. Vision blurring. Hearing fading and returning, fading and returning. Quivering muscles. Failed motor function. Body sinking into the swirling deep, pulled by invisible undertows. Periphery closing in. Arms weak. Face numb. Hands fighting to steer to safety in a torrent of impending blindness. Reece’s screams. Then total, terrifying blackness. Horrendous crunching. Desperately uttered prayers for Reece’s protection and for God to send someone to help. Then nothing.
Then sketches of remembrance dawned of hazy words whispered in a cappella melodies to a song she’d never heard by a voice she didn’t recognize.
Giver of life, oh Living Water, King of All Kings, Merciful Father, Lord of all Lords, Faithful and Righteous, Breathe on her Your Sweet Breath of life.
Maybe this man could fill in the missing pieces.
Amelia cleared her throat, bringing his attention from a newspaper. The strangest sensation drifted through her that he’d known the precise instant she’d awakened but waited for her to engage conversation.
“Who are you?” She gritted her teeth against the urge to demand her daughter back and to know why he held her in the first place. The weirdest thing was Reece didn’t warm easily to anyone. Strangers terrified her.
The man cradled Reece’s head in a tender way that made Amelia’s heart dip with an old familiar ache. Without warning, it awoke a five-year-long yearning for Reece to have a father figure in her life.
Child in arms, he rose on powerful legs and approached. Sinewy with strength, arms the color of warm embers handled Reece as one might an exquisite china doll. As a priceless jewel set in precious metal, he placed her beside Amelia in the bed.
Precision and control defined him as he took delicate care to position Reece’s head in the bend of Amelia’s elbow. The back of his hand brushed her forearm as he slid his hand out from between them. Amelia’s skin tingled in the wake of his warmth.
She swallowed the want of human contact away. Not physical—she’d learned that lesson the hard way. It was emotional intimacy she craved.
Stop it. How dare you? You don’t deserve it. Furthermore. you don’t know him.
No doubt a brain injury had brought her here. Otherwise her mind and emotions wouldn’t be rivaling for the ridiculous and vying for the absurd.
Calm, cool gaze rising to meet hers, he leaned near enough so that she caught whiffs of masculine soap. Creaks sounded as powerful fists closed around her side rail. She thought the thing might crack under his pressure. Guy had to be a body builder or some sort of Olympian.
“My name’s Ben Dillinger. Your daughter found me in the parking lot of the mall where you apparently fainted from dehydration.” Mouth flattened to a straight line. Muscles rippled along his chiseled cheek. Questions sparked deep in his brown eyes. His imposing height, commanding presence, and quiet yet unwavering confidence made her want to cringe and cover her head with the gauzy hospital blanket.
This was not the sort of guy you’d want to contend with as an enemy. Conversely, he struck her as the kind of person who, if on your side, would fight to the death for you if need be.
How she’d wished for that kind of friend all her life. The closest person to it was her cousin Nissa who was both her best friend and her biggest thorn. When Nissa was there, she was a rock. But when she got on her flighty, impulsive streaks, forget it. She couldn’t be counted on. Of course, part of it Nissa couldn’t control due to her bipolarism. But still, when she went off her meds—look out.
Amelia cleared her throat and tried to insert bravado in her voice. “Well, thanks. You’re free to go now.”
But the man just stood there, looking at her as if he couldn’t quite figure out what planet she’d orbited in from.
Then he narrowed his eyes but not in a judgmental way. “Why aren’t you getting enough to eat?” He raked a hard gaze over shoulders and arms that she knew had grown too thin.
Self-consciousness jolted through her in waves. He couldn’t