The Edge of Misery: The Mitchel Brothers Series Book Two

17

A heavy, uncomfortable sadness settled over the room as Declan's throat convulsed on a swallow, his eyes becoming haunted, unlike anything she'd ever seen during the heartbeat he allowed them to meet hers before he looked up at the ceiling and gruffly said, "I sent him to prison to save his life and nearly killed him in the process."

Then to her dismay, and as she reached out in response to the anguish in his voice, Declan turned away without another word and blew out the lamp on the bedside table, plunging the room into darkness.

Eager to begin his day, Declan arose before dawn and quietly dressed, tiptoeing into the hall with boots in hand and closing the bedroom door behind him in the desperate hope Wren wouldn't wake.

He couldn't bear one of her soul-searching gazes right now, not when his defenses were so weak. She'd see what he was up to. Escaping. Avoiding. Putting as much distance between them as quickly as possible before he lost all reason and surrendered to the near-painful yearning to admit aloud that he'd damned himself to an eternity of hell by falling in love with her.

It was the only excuse that made any sense for why he'd confessed his blackest sin and still been able to sleep next to her without wanting to shrivel up and die—and why he'd choked back a relieved sigh when she'd scooted up tight behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and fallen asleep with her body pressed to his in one of the most perfect embraces he'd ever felt.

"Thought you was Wren," Eldon whispered from his doorway in his rumpled nightshirt, his strawberry-blonde curls standing at odd angles and his eyes wide with fright, snapping Declan out of his thoughts.

Setting his boots down, Declan hurried over to him and saw Luella sidled up close, sitting on her haunches.

"Everything all right?" He whispered back, crouching before him and leaning on his right knee to keep his balance.

Eldon shook his head, hesitating the barest heartbeat before burying his face in the crook of Declan's neck as he threw his arms around Declan's shoulders and began quietly sobbing.

Cradling the little boy to his chest, Declan stood and rubbed Eldon's back as he murmured, "Want me to wake Wren?"

"No," Eldon wept, clutching Declan tighter and latching his legs around Declan's waist.

"All right," Declan softly replied with a little smile, adjusting his arms to support Eldon's rump and back; he paused, his gaze wandering the hall as he deliberated on where to go.

But with a glance and tender smile at Luella, Declan carried Eldon downstairs to the front parlor, Luella following close behind. "We'll just sit for a bit till you feel better... you and me and Luella... sound good?"

Eldon nodded, his body heaving with deep, gut-wrenching sobs that brought sympathetic tears to Declan's eyes and clogged his throat, making his voice husky when he quietly asked, "You cold?"

"A little," Eldon tearfully whimpered.

After snagging the brown and blue knitted afghan folded over the armrest of a sitting chair near the fireplace, Declan sat on the sofa with Eldon hugged to his chest and the afghan draped from shoulder to shoulder for warmth. "Better?" He murmured, rubbing Eldon's back and only relaxing against the cushions when Eldon nodded.

He wasn't sure how long they sat there in the early predawn with Luella lying near his feet, listening to the stillness of the house save for the gentle tick-tock of the clock on the mantle. All that seemed important was holding Eldon until his weeping calmed to soft hiccuping sniffles, and he leaned back in Declan's arms and whispered, "Do ya 'member what yer papa looks like?"