Rebel (Renegades #2)(92)
Author: Skye Jordan

“Every night. I don’t like brushes much either.” She walked over to the light and checked in with Emma. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“Turn on your flashlights first. Abby, make sure to keep the light out of Emma’s eyes. Emma, don’t look directly at the beam.”

Once the light was off, their flashlight beams aimed at the far wall, and no one was screaming, Rubi exhaled in relief. She climbed into the spot they’d left open for her between them and picked up her own flashlight. “Okay, now the fun begins.”

Wes eased himself into the chair alongside Rubi’s bed, praying he didn’t wake her or either of the girls. They were curled up like puppies on either side of Rubi, cuddled so close she couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. Though, by the way she had an arm around each one, her head tilted with her forehead pressed against Emma’s blonde hair, Wes had to admit she didn’t look like she wanted to go anywhere, but he wished the girls were in their own beds so Wes could strip down, climb in next to Rubi, and feel body the length of his.

Since no way on earth would that wish come true, he kicked his feet up on the ottoman and melted back into the cushy chair with a long exhale. What a freaking long, terrifying night. He glanced at his watch—almost nine a.m. He closed his eyes and laid his head back, unable to keep the last twelve hours from spiraling behind his closed lids.

Wyatt had come too close to death too many times—the first before he’d even reached the VA, and Wyatt’s doctor had rerouted them to St. Mary’s first. The damn blood clot had shot to his lungs, and he’d been gasping for air when Wes had thrown his brother over his shoulder and trotted him into the ER. When the nurses and doctors crowded around him and whisked him off to one of the rooms, both his mother and sister-in-law had been bawling. And Wes had been damn close. Luckily, his father had met them there, but he hadn’t looked much better. Christ, that had been the longest couple of hours of Wes’s life—waiting to hear whether or not Wyatt could be stabilized.

Then he’d been transferred by ambulance to the VA for more tests and further treatment during several bad episodes when they hadn’t known whether Wyatt would live or die. But by morning, he’d found even ground. After another few days in the hospital under careful watch, Wyatt would return home and continue his recovery. With anticoagulation therapy, this wouldn’t…shouldn’t…happen again.

This wasn’t Wyatt’s first death scare. Wes’s brother had “seen the light,” as Wyatt called it, several times—a few of those in Afghanistan before ever returning home. But this was the first one Wes had witnessed. And it had shaken him.

He opened his eyes to rid his mind of the memories, and the sight of Rubi and the girls released the pressure in his chest again. Seeing her curled up with two little kids gave Wes crazy-exciting glimpses into the future. Before this moment, he’d never been able to envision Rubi with a family—not that it had even been on his mind. But now… Yeah, it was on his mind. Not tomorrow. Not even next year. But someday.

And that someday had solidified into a real possibility with Rubi here. After seeing her with his family, watching her step up to the plate with his grandmother and nieces, her generosity toward Wyatt and his father… Yeah, he knew for sure—Rubi was the one.

Rubi stirred, and her eyes opened. She glanced to either side of her, checking on the girls, then stretched.

He whispered, “Hey, beautiful.”

“Is he okay?” she asked in an urgent whisper.

“He is now.”

Abby woke first, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with her fists. “Uncle Wes, is Daddy home?”

He couldn’t begin to describe the relief that her daddy would be coming home. Wyatt’s death would have devastated his family. “Not yet, but he will be in a few days.”

Emma covered her eyes, which meant she was letting her eyes adjust to the morning light. “Daddy’s okay?”

“Yes, baby. Your daddy’s okay.”

“Where’s Mommy?” Abby asked, sliding out of bed and skipping to Wes.

He pulled her into his lap. She was warm and soft, cuddling against him. Wes couldn’t say he was eager to be a father. The grave responsibility of the role sometimes felt too heavy for him. But that perspective shifted when he thought of having a child with Rubi. “Mommy’s downstairs. She’s going to take you girls home, and you can go to the hospital later to see your dad.”

Abby pushed from Wes’s lap and ran out the door. “Mommy!”

“Down here, baby.” Tori’s voice drifted up the stairs.

Emma climbed from bed, slower than Abby. She reached up and ran a hand over her braid, then looked over her shoulder at Rubi. “Will you take it out?”

“Sure.” Rubi gently removed the band at the bottom. “Do you want to comb it out, or do you want me to do it?”

“With a brush or your fingers?”

“Fingers, of course.”

“You can do it.”

Rubi ever so gently unwound the braid and sifted her fingers through Emma’s thick blonde strands. There was no screaming, no drama, and no tears involved. “There. You try it.”

Emma repeated Rubi’s motions, then asked, “Does it look okay? Not all messy like I slept on it?”

“It’s a little wavy because of the braid, but no, not messy. Very pretty, actually. Go look.” She pointed toward the bathroom.

Still wearing her clothes from the day before, Emma went into the bathroom. Wes couldn’t see her, but he watched Rubi’s face as Rubi watched Emma. When Rubi’s grin stretched over her beautiful face, Wes knew there had been success and was pleased. But when Rubi turned that smile on Wes to share the accomplishment with an excited thumbs-up, his heart folded and flipped.

Yes, she was definitely the one.

Even exhausted, Wes cooked breakfast for everyone. Whitney had met them at the hospital sometime last night and now held Emma in her lap at the table while the girl sorted and re-sorted a small pile of Legos into colors. Rubi felt as worn out as Wes looked. She knew she couldn’t be, although sleeping with a pair of clinging heaters couldn’t actually be considered sleep. And even though she craved some time either alone or alone with Wes, Rubi spent the morning walking Wes’s father through the program she’d designed for him. His excitement and gratitude made the work worth every minute.

Birdie had no recollection of baking pies or how she received the cut on her arm—for which Rubi was grateful. Susie claimed she couldn’t find a cranberry juice stain anywhere, even after Rubi pointed it out. Susie also told Rubi of a story when Birdie had broken her arm on her own watch, and insisted a cut was nothing to be concerned about.