By some miracle, I hadn’t felt like touching a drink this whole time.
A record since Anwen had made her unexpected appearance. Shame warmed my face. I never should’ve let Keelynn take the brunt of this responsibility. I was some fool.
I picked Brogan up from where I’d propped him between two pillows. He felt too small and fragile in my hands, like the snow globe my mother used to own. One I’d accidentally dropped. I held Brogan a little tighter. When I tried to put him on my shoulder the way I’d seen Leesha do so effortlessly, he vomited down my back.
“Not the worst thing I’ve had on my shirt today,” I muttered, changing us both for the third time.
This time, when I lifted him, I tucked a hand towel beneath his drooly chins to catch anything that might spew out. Down to the kitchens we went, and by the time I got there, the lad was asleep again, which was feckin’ brilliant considering I was hungry enough to eat the whole vat of stew Eava had cooked—and I wasn’t all that fond of meat.
I shifted a few cushions from the family room, arranging them into a bed on the floor using my boot. The moment I tried to lay Brogan down, his eyes popped open, a threat in those green depths. Any time I tried to move him from my right arm to my left, it happened again.
I stared down at my dish of stew, my mouth watering the way Brogan’s always seemed to.
Using my left hand, I tried to stab the first carrot. It flew right off the plate and onto a cushion. I managed to get a prong on the second one, and that vegetable tasted of victory. Since I wasn’t able to cut the beef, I stabbed the thick chunks and gnawed on them like an rabid animal.
At least no one was around to see how far I’d fallen.
Some red wine would go really well with this.I shifted a bottle only to realize I couldn’t open it with a child in my arms, and since this was the first proper break I’d had all afternoon, I wasn’t about to attempt putting him down.
Thankfully, Eava had left a jug of water next to the sink. I filled a glass and choked it down.
Brogan continued snoozing away, still snuggled tightly in the crook of my arm, his mouth hanging open the way Ruairi’s did when he’d had too much drink and passed out sitting up.
Passing out sounded pretty good right now. That nap I’d taken earlier really hadn’t done much to curb my exhaustion. I tiptoed to the family room and eased onto the settee, keeping Brogan toward the back so he didn’t accidentally roll off. He was like a tiny hot water bottle, all cuddly and warm. My eyes drifted closed, the weight of the past few days finally catching up with me.
I’d figure out this fatherhood thing, and then I’d find a way to win back the woman I loved.
As I listened to Brogan’s even breathing, my own slowed to match. Blessed sleep tugged at the corner of my consciousness…
Until Brogan let out a bone-chilling howl right in my feckin’ ear.
My eyes snapped open, burning with tiredness. Somehow, I found the strength to force myself upright. Brogan wriggled as if he were uncomfortable, so I put him down. He didn’t like that one bit, alternating between screaming and gasping for air.
I tried everything: a bottle, a rattle, picking him up, putting him down, bouncing him on my hip, rocking him back and forth until I nearly fell asleep standing up, but nothing worked.
That’s when I smelled another round of shite.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
A warm breeze skated down the back of my neck as I stood outside Anwen’s house clutching Brogan to my chest. Eava hadn’t returned this morning as she’d promised, and neither had my brother.
All it took was one long, sleepless night to prove that leaving the baby with me had been the wrong choice. The witch had already raised three children—or was it four? I couldn’t remember. Either way, Anwen was far better suited to this parenting lark. That was why I’d bundled Brogan in one of Rían’s thick wool jumpers and marched straight over to where Anwen’s cottage had been relocated because of the blight.
Returning Brogan to his mother would be best for everyone involved.
Even knowing that, my heart ached when I raised my hand to knock. I didn’t have what it took to keep this boy alive. All he did was cry. He didn’t even like me. He must miss his mother.
But the thought of not seeing him again didn’t sit well with me either. Maybe we could work out some sort of arrangement where I took him a few days and she had him as well. That was fair, wasn’t it?
I forced myself to rap my knuckle against the wood.
When no one answered, I knocked harder. How had Anwen raised all her children in such a tiny home? I’d need to find her something bigger, someplace closer to the castle.
Actually, that wouldn’t work either because we’d need to relocate the castle because of that damn blight.
Besides, how would Keelynn feel about having my former lover living so close? That wasn’t fair to her, was it? Assuming she still wanted to be with me after I sorted this out.Dammit. Every time I thought I had a solution to my problems, another one arose.