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A moment of silence passed between them, and Atticus tightened his grip on Lawson’s shoulder. “You’ve been to hell and back, brother. I’ve seen these things play out before, but it’snever hit this close to home. I’m sorry you had to live through it—but I’m proud of you for the way you handled it.”
Lawson shook his head, his residual guilt preventing him from gracefully receiving his brother’s admiration.
“I thought she was harmless. I didn’t know—”
“You are not responsible for anyone’s actions but your own. You couldn’t have foreseen this. Not a year ago, not a month ago, not forty-eight hours ago. But I saw you at the police station. I saw you walk out those doors with Evie in your arms—and there’s not a doubt in my mind this was never gonna end any other way. So I’ll say it again…” This time, he gave Lawson a sturdy shake, then looked him square in the eyes as he repeated, “I’m proud of you. You’re a good dad. She’s lucky to have you.”
Before Lawson could second guess his brother’s words, they were interrupted.
“Daddy?” called Evelyn.
Lawson turned, immediately on high alert. There was something in her voice—uncertainty or fear, he couldn’t tell which—and he didn’t like it.
“I’m here, darlin’,” he called back. “You okay?”
She didn’t respond with her words but hurried down the dark expanse between them toward the light. She barely had a chance to stop before Lawson scooped her up into his arms. Clinging to his neck, she rested her head next to his, silently proclaiming they were of the same accord.
When he turned back to look at Atticus, he was met with a smirk that said it all.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he promised, backing away from the door.
“Get some sleep,” Lawson insisted.
“On it,” he said with a parting wave.
After shutting the front door, Lawson rubbed a hand across Evelyn’s back as he started toward the bedroom. “You okay, pretty girl?”
“I woke up, and I didn’t know where you were.”
“I’m here. I’ve got you now,” he assured her before pressing a kiss into her hair.
He felt her nod before she whispered, “I’m hungry.”
This stopped Lawson in his tracks. “Hungry, huh?” He tried to remember the last time he ate. Most of the previous night was a blur. “I think I am, too.” He turned back toward the kitchen as he asked, “What should we have to eat, hmm?”
“Can we have pancakes?”
He smiled as he flipped on the overhead light. “I think pancakes are a great idea.”
She reached for Evie but felt nothing but cool, empty sheets. Gasping, she sat up and looked around, momentarily horrified at the possibility that she’d merely dreamt falling asleep curled around her baby girl. It was dark, save the little bit of light that reached into the room from the open door. As she shook away her drowsiness, she tried to rememberwhenand where she was. Then she heard the soft, low rumble of Lawson’s voice, and she exhaled in relief.
It hadn’t been a dream. It had been far worse—but it was over.
Nora-Jean got out of bed immediately, headed toward the light and the sound of the hushed conversation between her man and her mini-me. She found them at the kitchen table—Evie perched in Lawson’s lap as they shared a plate of pancakes. The image they created made her heart swell, and the smell of syrup made her stomach growl.
“Hi, mommy,” murmured Evie.
“Hi, sweetheart.” She eliminated the distance between them, dropping a kiss on top of Evie’s head before pressing her lips against Lawson’s. “Did you save me some pancakes?”
“In the microwave. I can grab them.”
“No,” she demanded, kissing his mouth once more. “You two stay.”
Lawson obeyed, and Nora was seated next to them at the table, with a plate stacked with warm pancakes, less than a minute later.
“How’s my girl doin’?”
“Daddy said that lady can’t hurt me anymore.”
