Never Dig Beneath a Grave - Page 235

“You sound like Kenda.”

I can feel her glaring daggers at me. She’s told me some about her sessions with Kenda. They seem to be helping, though she’s reluctant to go. She’s told me about her time in the church. Some of her childhood she’s starting to remember. Her father. Her mother murdering him. I want to be the one she shares those dark parts of herself with, but . . . I also understand we have the rest of our lives to worry about it.

For now, I’m content calling her mine . . . and feeding her.

“You don’t have to call her that if you don’t want to.” I place the spatula down and take her face in my hands, pointing those green eyes up at mine. “And even if you do, it won’t erase Laura.”

I fucking hate saying her name. I fucking hate that Hannah still thinks about her. If I could, I’d take those memories of her time locked away, if it meant she wouldn’t have to bear the burden, anymore.

She gives me a soft smile and reaches up, placing her hand over mine, her ring glittering in the kitchen lights. “Is it bad if I said that I would be okay if it did? Erase her?”

“Never, little doe. Family’s not family because they’re blood. You and I will create our own family. With whoever you want in it.”

“That’s just your excuse to get me pregnant.”

I chuckle darkly because, well, she’s not wrong, and lift her ass onto the counter.

“I would love to put a baby in you,” I murmur, pressing my lips to hers. “But I’m content with just us for now. We’ve got the rest of our lives.”

She grins, a twinkle in her eye.

“We can practice, though?”

“You fucking bet, we can.”

She laughs, but the sound dies down when my phone rings from the counter beside her.

“I think she has a sixth sense for when someone’s talking about her,” I murmur gruffly, silencing Mom’s call.

Listen, I’ve been working on shit myself. Forgiving Mom. Welcoming her back into my life. Just the other night, she and Bob were over for dinner and it’s the first time she’s set foot in my house since she and Dad divorced. It was strange at first, but . . . as the night wore on, I found it easier to relax.

Hannah’s a big part of that. Bob, too. The fucker’s the nicest guy I’ve ever met. How he convinced my mother, of all people, to go on a date, is beyond me.

“Hi, Monica,” Hannah beams when she answers the phone because the little brat knew I was going to ignore it. She hops down from the counter, giggling when I smack her ass, but that laugh falls off, ending in nothing but silence.

“Okay, he’s here.”

She hands me the phone, her face crestfallen and it feels like someone’s stuck a knife in my chest. With an internal groan, I take the call.

“Mom?”

She blubbers something out, her voice unrecognizable from the tears clogging her throat.

“Mom?”

There’s shuffling and then the phone is handed over to someone else.

“It’s Logan. You need to come to the hospital.”

“Now?”

“Right fucking now.” My gaze flicks to Hannah and her eyes go wide.

“What the fuck’s going on?”

“It’s Mila,” Logan murmurs gruffly. “She was attacked.”