doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he pauses for a moment. I take that time to turn around, tilting my head back, I look up into his dark eyes. They’re dancing as his lips curve up into a grin.
“A home, a real family all of my own. Almost fifty years old, babe. This seemed like something I had missed out on in my life.”
Shaking my head from side to side, I lift my hands and cup his cheeks. “Never,” I rasp. “It’s never too late to have something you want, Wilder. Not ever. I was just waiting for you to rescue me.”
He chuckles, but it’s not with humor, just a light noise that travels through the quiet space around us. He lifts his hand, one wraps around my hip, the other cups my cheek as his eyes search my own.
“I didn’t rescue you, Leighton. All I did was free you from that last chain your father had bound around you. You, mi reina, you freed yourself. It was all you.”
He tilts his head to the side, his mouth touching mine and that’s when it happens. I feel the trickle down my leg. Then, that trickle becomes a lot heavier, right before an excruciating pain rips through my abdomen.
Jerking my head back, I let out a whimper. “My water just broke,” I rasp.
“Oh, fuck,” Wilder hisses. Then his lips turn up into a grin. “It’s time.”
Nodding, I lick my lips. “It’s time.”
TWELVE HOURS LATER
MOUNTAIN
Perfection.
I didn’t know it existed.
But here it is, in a six-pound ten-ounce bundle.
Sitting next to Leighton on the bed, this little wrapped up infant in my arms, a mix of emotions rolls throughout my entire body. Love like I didn’t know was possible, but guilt too. Guilt because I did not feel this when I held Santiago for the first time.
When he was placed in my arms, I knew that he was mine, but he wasn’t at the same time. I didn’t feel like I loved him, but more like he was unattainable. And he was, he is. I can see him from afar, but to tell him that I’m his father, to be his father, it’s not possible and I like to think that I’ve made my peace with that, but I hadn’t, not until this exact moment.
“She’s perfect,” I rasp.
I look down at my girl, trying to shake thoughts of Santiago from my head. He has a family, one that adores him. Eagle is probably one of the best fathers I’ve ever seen, he loves him and shows it often. I’m just a selfish prick, wanting what I want—which is everything even when I know that I can’t have it.
“What should we name her?”
She has asked me this, no less than a hundred times, since finding out that this baby is a girl. I couldn’t commit to an answer though. I don’t know if it was because having that, a name, made this really fucking surreal and real, or if I needed to wait until I saw her with my own eyes.
“Do you have any ideas?” I ask.
There’s a moment of silence, and I debate looking up at Leighton, but I can’t take my eyes off of my brand-new daughter long enough to do that. Extending my finger, I slide it between her eyebrows and down the center of her nose.
She shifts her head from side to side, probably looking for food, but it doesn’t matter, she’s not crying yet, so I’m going to continue holding her for as long as I possibly can.
“I don’t. I haven’t known many women in my life,” she says. “I never knew my own mother’s name.”
“And I wouldn’t name my baby after that woman who birthed me if my life depended on it,” I grunt. “What about Luna?”
“Luna Lopez?” she asks.
I shrug a shoulder. “Don’t know, thought it sounded pretty.”
Leighton hums then sits up a little higher with a groan. “I like it,” she rasps.
Finally, I lift my eyes to meet my woman’s. “Luna Lopez, middle name?” I ask.
She shrugs a shoulder. “I hate mine. It sounds pretentious. I’m not sure I want her to have one.”
“Then she won’t.”
We stare at one another for a moment, the baby still in my arms as I hold her close, protecting her from anything that could ever come toward her, that could ever cause her harm. I would kill in a heartbeat for this little creature. She will never know the horrors of this world the way that Leighton has. I would never allow