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Page 54 of Beneath the Mountain Sky (McBride Brother Lumberjacks #1)

TWO DAYS LATER

WILLOW

T hunder rolls overhead, rattling the windowpanes and eliciting a little squawk from Niall. He squirms in Killian’s hold, and his frantic blue gaze meets mine as he adjusts his hold on the baby and continues pacing the main cabin.

His attention returns to his son, examining him carefully. “Are you sure he’s all right?”

I can’t fight the grin that pulls at my lips as I watch them from the kitchen, making him a bottle. “He’s fine. Babies cry, Killian, when they’re hungry, when they’re tired, when they need a clean diaper, when a loud noise startles them.”

It used to startle me, too.

But tonight, the storm doesn’t bother me.

Now that I remember what I did, running out in that storm to save Niall and myself, the power doesn’t frighten me anymore.

I’ve faced things far worse.

But my placation doesn’t seem to make Killian feel any better or ease any of the tense concern marring his brow.

He brushes his lips over Niall’s head and murmurs something to him that I can’t hear, shifting his hand gently across the baby’s back with Niall’s face resting against his bare chest—right over the tattoo of McBride Mountain where he was born.

No matter what I say, I know Killian won’t stop worrying.

For the past couple of days, since we got Niall, it’s all Killian has done.

Even though the pediatrician assured us he’s healthy.

Even though Earl and Amy are locked safely away and the district attorney has already filed charges against them.

Even though it’s finally over and our son is in his arms and safe, it hasn’t stopped the constant anxiety from overriding his usually self-confident nature.

Tension still permeates his body, even at night.

He doesn’t sleep, lying awake watching Niall and me. Pacing the cabin as if he can’t let go of that fear that consumed us for so long.

And when Niall is awake, he barely lets him out of his sight. Always watching for the tiniest signs his son might be unhappy.

As endearing as it is, it’s also concerning.

I snag the bottle from where it’s been warming on the stove and make my way over to him.

Killian stops his pacing as I hand it to him and searches my face as if he’s trying to determine if I’m okay, even though I’ve assured him I am.

I lean up on my tiptoes and feather a kiss to his lips, silencing anything he might say—and hopefully the voices in his head that won’t let him settle.

He leans into the kiss, clutching Niall close to himself between us, letting his lips linger on mine until I finally pull away.

I tuck a strand of his long blond hair back behind his ear. “He’s just hungry, and the thunder startled him. You have to stop worrying so much.”

Killian always clutches him so tightly, afraid he’s going to hold him wrong or drop him or do something that will upset him—or me. It will take some time, but eventually, Killian will believe what I already do, that he’s going to be a wonderful father.

He releases a little huff. Doesn’t want to hear me say those words to him again, but until he finally relaxes, until he finally accepts that this is really over, I will keep reminding him.

One day, he might believe it.

Liam snort-laughs from his place on the couch, wearing a mix of concern and amusement at watching his brother meltdown with the baby in his arms. “For what it’s worth, I agree with Willow.”

Raven smirks from her spot in Killian’s recliner and raises her hand. “Ditto.”

I grin at them, hoping the other voices backing me up help Killian see it. “I appreciate the support.”

Liam tilts his beer in my direction before he takes a sip. “Anytime.”

His gaze lands on his nephew as Killian adjusts him in his arms to get the bottle into his mouth. Niall latches on and settles against his father’s chest again, completely content, just like I promised Killian he would be.

I drag my lips across the healing wound from Earl’s bullet on Killian’s bicep and move over to the couch and settle next to Liam, who I’m more worried about than our baby.

He’s been quiet.

Reclusive.

Hasn’t spoken a word to any of us about what we discovered on that mountain a few days ago.

The shocking truth of where he came from and who his parents are has left him reeling.

Lost.

Of all the McBride brothers, he was always the most sure of himself and his role in this world.

The most comfortable with people and opening up.

And the man who always manages to find the bright side in everything, who always goes out of his way to cheer people up and make sure they’re okay.

But for days, he has locked himself away in his cabin or his workshop.

And neither Killian nor I dare bring up the topic if he’s not ready to talk about it.

We’ve both been on the other side of that, and forcing anyone to open up when they need time to process typically doesn’t end well.

Raven exchanges a knowing look with me.

All the fallout of what we discovered on the mountain has left the reporter in her jonesing for more information. To learn whatever she can so the residents of our small town can understand what happened instead of relying on supposition and rumors.

That includes desperately wanting to talk with Liam about how he feels about the entire situation.

But she’s handcuffed—both by her conscience and her loyalty to me.

Because I told her the McBrides are off limits for the community news page…unless I approve it first.

And I won’t when it comes to Liam. His gaze remains glued on his brother and nephew, unblinking, with an almost trancelike quality to how he watches them together.

I have to imagine he’s picturing himself at this age—and the man whose arms he would have been in.

Reaching out, I squeeze his hand.

He looks over at me and raises a brow. “What?”

“You doing okay?”

His eyes darken slightly, and he averts his gaze down to the beer in his hand. “I…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I guess I’m not sure how I’m supposed to feel about any of this.”

Killian wanders over closer to us, keeping his voice low for Niall’s benefit. “You can feel however you want to.”

It’s exactly what he’s said to me over the last several days, too—that I have every right to feel however I want to about Earl, about Amy, about what happened to me.

I can be angry.

I can be devastated.

I can break things.

I can cry.

I can sob and completely fall apart.

As long as you don’t shut me out, you can do whatever you want.

It’s been his only stipulation, his only demand of me—that I don’t shut him out.

And I’m doing my best not to do just that.

To talk through the memories that I’ve already revealed to him and Sheriff Briggs, the information he needs to ensure the prosecution goes through.

To explain the nightmares that wake me, the tears that come when I’m holding Niall.

All of it.

Each painful thing that could so easily send me into that abyss of darkness.

But then Killian’s there to hold me, to let me cry if I need to, to pound against his chest, to let out frustration and agony in any way I need to. To distract me in the way only he can when that’s the only thing that will pull me from the downward plummet.

I give Killian a half-smile, then turn to Liam, squeezing his hand again. “He’s right. But…if you want to talk about it, you know we’re here.”

The youngest McBride gives me a tight smile that doesn’t quite reach his emerald eyes. “I know, and I appreciate it. Really.”

But he isn’t going to tonight.

That much is obvious.

He’s not ready.

It’s too fresh.

Too painful for him.

I can understand that.

But Killian and I won’t let Liam disappear into himself. We won’t let him push us away indefinitely.

Footsteps sound outside on the porch, preventing anyone from delving any further into the issue—probably for the best.

We’ve all been waiting for Connor’s return.

And for the information he should have with him.

The front door swings open, and Connor trudges in, rain dripping from his dark hair and clothes onto the floorboards. He pushes the door closed with his booted foot and toes them off. “Man, it’s brutal out there.”

As if in response, another crack of thunder rattles the house, but this time Niall doesn’t even react, despite Killian watching for it, worrying over it.

Raven and I share a half-grin about it as Connor approaches her with a scowl.

He glares at where she sits, occupying Killian’s father’s old chair—one of his favorite spots. “Do you mind?”

Uh oh.

I recognize the saccharine-sweet smile Raven offers the middle McBride brother all too well.

She bats her long eyelashes at him, settling back in the chair and placing her hands behind her head. “Not at all.”

Killian intercedes, stepping between them and pressing a hand to Connor’s shoulder, urging him back. “Let. It. Go.”

The brothers stare each other down while we all hold our breaths, waiting for the potential explosion from the younger of the two.

Connor grits his jaw, crossing his arms over his broad chest, while Killian holds the stare-down, rocking slightly side to side to keep Niall happy as he eats.

Finally, Connor rolls his eyes and stalks off to the kitchen, returning with a beer in hand that he takes a long swig from before he settles on the arm of the couch beside Liam.

Killian raises a brow at his Connor. “Any update?”

My spine stiffens even without any reference to what we’ve been expecting updates on.

Each day, we worry…

Each day, we wait…

For information from Sheriff Briggs about his interviews with Earl. For the answers that still elude us. Those little lingering questions we can’t seem to answer for ourselves. And for a resolution.

Connor nods, glancing around the room at everyone except Raven. “I spoke with Tony, and he finally finished interviewing Earl.”

Killian’s gaze immediately cuts to mine.

Finally.

His mental state has meant they’ve had to be careful when interviewing him. Some sessions were pointless, with Earl descending into rants that didn’t make any sense. Frustrating for us and law enforcement.

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