Solomon rounds on Howler. “Get out.”
Smirking, Ash pats Howler’s shoulder. “We’re working on his deep-seated Oedipus complex.”
“I was talking about the hospital Jell-O.” Howler shakes his head, his amused gaze drifting to Tessie. “Jesus, Goldilocks, rein him in, will you?” His eyes narrow on Wilder. “You think the kid’s too young to learn how to bow hunt?”
“Oh God.” A terrible thought occurs to Tessie. She looks up at Solomon. “He’s going to be the one who buys our son a drum set, isn’t he?”
The door cracks open. Melody, her face hopeful, peers into the room. “No,” Solomon says gruffly, leveling a scowl of warning at his youngest sister.
Tessie hides a smirk. Ever since she woke up, Solomon’s been an overprotective prowling bodyguard in flannel. He hasn’t left her side. “No more visitors. Tessie needs her rest.”
Melody arches an amused brow. “As much as I, the favorite aunt”—scoffs here from both Ash and Howler—“would love to see my new nephew, I’m here to take Ash to the airport.”
Instant tears fill Tessie’s eyes. “Oh no. I hate that you have to go.”
“I know.” Ash drops onto the edge of Tessie’s bed, dipping to press a kiss to Wilder’s downy head. A sad smile tugs at her mouth. “But I have a client who needs me. You know, that whole-death-waits-for-no-one schtick is a real bummer. I’ll be back. Swear it.”
Tessie laughs. “You’re the one who needs a tropical vacation next.”
Ash arches a brow, reaching out to take Tessie’s free hand. “Me and sun? We’ll see about that. Enjoy your mountain man.” Her eyes sparkle with tears. “Your mom would be so proud of you, Tessie. You found your stars.”
“I did,” she whispers.
She stares at her cousin, her best friend who’s done so much for her. Pushed her when she needed to be pushed, knowing what she needed when Tessie didn’t even know. Who made her pull her head out of her uptight ass and find the man of her heart.
Tessie inhales a firm breath, squeezes Ash’s hand. “I love you.”
“I love you.” Ash gives a proud, tearful laugh. “You’ve got this.”
Tessie smiles at that.
She does.
Tessie jumps when she slides open the shower curtain. Solomon stands there, towel in hand and a frown on his face.
“Success,” she sings. She waggles her brows at him, hoping to turn his grumpy face into a smile. “The biggest accomplishment a mama can have. A shower.”
“I don’t like you in there alone,” Solomon says, tipping his bearded chin to look down at her.
She keeps her mouth shut. Sighs and lets him fuss. His favorite pastime since she and Wilder came home from the hospital.
Solomon’s afraid. Afraid she’ll fall. Afraid she’s not getting enough rest.
She gets it. She’s scared too.
Birth was easy, but the blood loss and hemorrhage pushed her body to its physical limits. That night left a scar on both her and Solomon.
Three units of her blood gone, two replaced. She was clinically dead for four minutes until the necessary bloods and fluids kicked in. For weeks after the birth, her body was weak and shaky. Like the new blood in her body hadn’t kicked in yet. When she looked in the mirror, her face didn’t match her memory. Her smile was like a runny egg that could slip right out of the pan.
Now, a month after bringing Wilder home, she’s finally recovered. She and Solomon have hit a routine. They were like zombies the first few weeks. They’d look at each other like holy shit, we’re really doing this, then laugh. These days, their shaky rhythm changes with Wilder, but it’s a flow, the closest Tessie can get to a schedule. The baby sleeps all day and is up all night. Her boobs leak twenty-four seven. All modesty out the window. She’s sure even Howler’s witnessed a nip slip or two, but that’s a worry for another day.
Tessie always heard the saying, lean on your tribe, but she never knew what it fully meant until she and Solomon brought Wilder home. To her surprise, Howler organized a meal train. Solomon’s parents and sisters were over every day. Bringing food, walking Peggy Sue, rocking Wilder for hours so she and Solomon could sleep. Even the simple act of having someone hold her son while she peed was a lifesaver. It touches her immensely how many people have shown up for them. Even Evelyn sent them flowers and hired a housekeeper.
Baby steps. They’re all taking baby steps.
Holding her elbow, Solomon helps her out of the shower. She dries off and steps into a pair of lounge pants and a baggy sweatshirt. “Now, food,” he orders.
Instead of letting her walk, he scoops her up in his arms.
“I can walk,” she argues, running her hands through his dark hair.
A grunt of disagreement. Bypassing the sleeping baby in the crib, Solomon carries Tessie down the stairs and sets her on her feet.
The small cabin is overtaken by flowers and food and diapers. A stale pot of coffee sits on the counter. The faint scent of breast milk hangs in the air. It’s a mess. But it’s her mess. And it’s her home.
Solomon fills a saucepan with water and sets it on the stove. He busies himself, staying obstinately silent, but his back is tense. A deep kind of quiet worry in his eyes. She watches him in the kitchen, looking lost.
“Solomon.” Tessie tilts her head, damp blond hair tumbling over her shoulder. She stretches out a hand. “Come here.”
When he doesn’t move, doesn’t take his eyes off the saucepan, she sighs. He’s been doing this lately. Keeping his distance. Like if he comes any closer, he’ll break her. Hurt her.
So she goes to him.
Solomon frowns as she pads into the kitchen. “You need to rest, Tess.”
She does. She’s exhausted. But she also wants normalcy. A tiny slice, if even for a few seconds. They have to take these hurried grabs of love when they can. Because soon Wilder will wake, crying for his milk, and she’ll be in her rocking chair. But she’s grateful for it. Her life. The mundane. The new. Wilder on her chest. Solomon there. Always there. Never leaving her side.
Waving a hand, she gestures to the baby monitor on the counter. Bear sleeps easy in his avocado toast onesie. “Stop worrying. Let me live, Solomon.”
He blanches. A tight fury has his jaw clenching.
“Shit,” she says, realizing her mistake. She looks up, pressing a palm against his heart. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Without words, he takes her in his arms, squeezing her tight against him. Sighing, Tessie wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head on his muscled chest, inhaling his familiar woodsy scent. A scent that calls back memories. Mexico and his flannels. White-sand beaches and salty ocean air. Their hammock. Swims in the ocean. Sunsets. Sunrises. Afternoon sex. Solomon. Her Solemn Man.
She inhales deeper. Going back further in her memory. In time.
Bear’s Ear bar.
They’ve come so far. How they got here. . .it’s almost celestial to Tessie.
“You should eat,” he says, trying to step away from her hug, but she holds his massive frame tighter.
“We should stay here. Like this.”
Solomon sighs, deep and low. Frustrated. But the tension goes out of his body, and he drops his face to kiss the crown of her head. “Tessie,” he murmurs. His hands go to her hips. “My Tessie.”
She looks up at him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“You should let me take you back to LA.”
Since they got home from the hospital, Solomon’s been on a kick about leaving Chinook. He has too many bad memories here. It was traumatic—losing Serena, nearly losing her—but leaving isn’t the answer.
She shakes her head. “No. I don’t want that. Our son doesn’t belong there. This is our home. Wilder’s home.”
“You’re giving it all up.”
“I’m not. I’m getting it all.”
Zero regrets about what she left behind in California. She’s gotten so much more in return. There is nothing she wants more. No one she trusts more. No one she loves more.
Solomon just has to see that.