Broken

• Chapter 165 •

"Mom?" I call out as I set my bags down and shut the front door.

The rest of the week in Amsterdam was spent exploring the city and having a decent time. We kept the drinking minimal, but it helped with the nerves. The trip turned out to be a success after all.

She comes out of the kitchen and sighs, "You're back. How was your trip?" she looks defeated. Probably hasn't been sleeping because of the twins. Guilt prods at my ribs, how did I leave her with newborn babies as she's grieving her dead husband and go to Amsterdam?

I shake my head, "Amsterdam was beautiful. You look like shit, have you slept since I left?"

She groans, "Honestly? No. The twins cry all night, and I have no idea how to shut them up. Believe it or not, when you cried as a baby, Brandon would—" she freezes, "Yeah..." she mumbles.

As though the twins are listening, they begin crying. She sighs, "That's my cue..."

I shake my head, "Let me put them to sleep."

She frowns, "Really?"

I nod, "Get some rest. I'll take care of it." It's evident I'm going to have to stay with her as much as I can, she looks like she really needs the help.

I hesitantly walk into my parent's room, my heart feels so heavy as I step inside. I look down at the cribs. This is the first time I've been in the same room as them for more than five seconds. They're so tiny and fragile-looking. Grace is fast asleep while Stephen is throwing a tantrum. His minuscule hands and feet fling in the air, his face has turned pink from the obnoxious yelling.

I take a shaky breath and pick him up slowly, he's so damn light. I cradle him in my arms, rocking him gently and whispering light shushes. He's so small, I'm afraid I'm going to accidentally drop him. Do babies bounce? I wince. Let's not try that experiment.

After a few moments, he quiets down. I relax, breathing slowly. Then, he opens his eyes. The moment I meet his eyes, my entire world melts. He has his eyes. My heart freezes as I feel dad's presence. My lips part in shock. It takes me aback, the feeling I'm feeling whilst holding him in my arms. It's as though he's seeing into my soul.

He sticks out his tiny pink tongue and rests his hand on my chest. I freeze in place, completely dumbfounded. How could I have ever hated them? How could I ever have hated something that my dad created? His eyes close slowly as he drifts off to sleep. I set him down gently, my heart beats ferociously. I've never been more at peace since my dad's death than I am now. I look down at them in wonder.

"They have his eyes."

I flinch, noticing mom's presence in the room. I walk over to her, and she looks a mess, "It breaks me every time I look into those beautiful eyes. I just wish he was here... I can't—I can't function without him."

Pain shoots through what's left of my heart, I can't bear to see her like this. She's so lost without him, we all are. She snaps out of her trance and looks up at me with a forced smile, "Thanks for putting them to bed. You must be tired. Get some rest, sweetie," she quips.

I frown in confusion, then shake my head dismissively, "Okay... Night, mom."

She nods once and avoids eye-contact, "Good night."