wrong?”
Her mother raised a brow in a look she knew from childhood, the famous I’m-not-buying-your-innocence-routine. The majority of those looks went to Faith while she and Hope stood witness, but both had their share of the same.
“Well, the magenta aura… No. Let’s talk about the other first. There’s a sporadic lavender aura that’s wavering around your child. I sense a psychic shield.”
The mysterious answer fed Heaven’s curiosity. As if she didn’t have enough questions needing answers. “A psychic shield?”
“Yes,” Delia cooed from behind. She wrapped her arm around Heaven’s waist and placed her hand flush on her stomach. “Remember how I told you and Dylan that the baby feels a need to protect you?” She waited until Heaven nodded. “I sense that need has grown stronger. Your little one is working overtime to keep you calm. The question is, why?”
Hesitating on an answer, Heaven moved her eyes across the room, noting Dylan and her father deep in conversation. Layne, on the other hand, was staring at her. The moment her cheeks tingled with warmth, she glanced at Delia again. “I, um…I don’t know, Delia. Maybe it has something to do with the dream that brought us home.”
* * *
Darkness began to wane as twilight lingered in the sky. Heaven gazed out the window, noting a bluish hue to the east. It warned of dawn’s impending arrival, as well as her lack of sleep.
She leaned over the arm of the couch, grabbing her bottle of water from the end table. The warmth of Dylan’s body returned as she righted herself, but she didn’t meet his gaze. With the rapid thrum of their connection, she knew what she needed about his state of mind. Not much had changed since they left the car.
The cap atop her bottle twisted with ease. Plastic met her lips, sending a rush of cool liquid to soothe the dryness in her throat. Dryness she’d acquired after talking about the dream for the last twenty minutes.
Neither her parents nor Delia had said a word the entire time she spoke. Judging by their pressed lips and long faces, their silence had no end in sight.
As the last of the water poured into her mouth, she pulled the bottle away and returned the cap with a single twist. The more silence dredged on, the more energy she sensed—her mother’s worry, her father’s disgruntlement, and Delia’s curiosity.
She understood the relevance of those emotions and why each felt the way they did. What she couldn’t accept was the distance and hurt in Layne’s energy. He was the one who wanted space between them, even went to the trouble of stressing how much he wanted it. Where did he get off directing the hurt in his soul toward her?
Pushing the thoughts aside, she refocused on her mother, who sat on a bench near the bay window. Her statuesque posture concerned Heaven, as did the way she stared toward the patio doors. The glass didn’t interest her, but Layne did. She looked at him as if he were a puzzle she needed to put together.
Heaven wanted to save her the time and trouble. She’d spent the last five months trying to do the same. It gained her nothing but an anger-filled argument on the side of the interstate and a very pissed off husband.
Crackling wood drew her eyes to her father. He knelt in front of the fireplace, poking a log he’d placed inside when they first came to the den. Though he seemed focused on getting the fire started, she knew it was a means for distraction. What he really wanted was to knock some sense into Dylan and Layne, which didn’t surprise her in the least. She had no doubts he’d read their thoughts the second they walked into the house.
Once the silence reached its limit on awkwardness, she leaned to the edge of the couch, gaining Delia’s attention as she sat in the chair across from them. “I don’t mean to be rude or impatient, but your silence concerns me. We sacrificed sleep because we wanted to get here as soon as we could. You and my parents are the only
Her mother raised a brow in a look she knew from childhood, the famous I’m-not-buying-your-innocence-routine. The majority of those looks went to Faith while she and Hope stood witness, but both had their share of the same.
“Well, the magenta aura… No. Let’s talk about the other first. There’s a sporadic lavender aura that’s wavering around your child. I sense a psychic shield.”
The mysterious answer fed Heaven’s curiosity. As if she didn’t have enough questions needing answers. “A psychic shield?”
“Yes,” Delia cooed from behind. She wrapped her arm around Heaven’s waist and placed her hand flush on her stomach. “Remember how I told you and Dylan that the baby feels a need to protect you?” She waited until Heaven nodded. “I sense that need has grown stronger. Your little one is working overtime to keep you calm. The question is, why?”
Hesitating on an answer, Heaven moved her eyes across the room, noting Dylan and her father deep in conversation. Layne, on the other hand, was staring at her. The moment her cheeks tingled with warmth, she glanced at Delia again. “I, um…I don’t know, Delia. Maybe it has something to do with the dream that brought us home.”
* * *
Darkness began to wane as twilight lingered in the sky. Heaven gazed out the window, noting a bluish hue to the east. It warned of dawn’s impending arrival, as well as her lack of sleep.
She leaned over the arm of the couch, grabbing her bottle of water from the end table. The warmth of Dylan’s body returned as she righted herself, but she didn’t meet his gaze. With the rapid thrum of their connection, she knew what she needed about his state of mind. Not much had changed since they left the car.
The cap atop her bottle twisted with ease. Plastic met her lips, sending a rush of cool liquid to soothe the dryness in her throat. Dryness she’d acquired after talking about the dream for the last twenty minutes.
Neither her parents nor Delia had said a word the entire time she spoke. Judging by their pressed lips and long faces, their silence had no end in sight.
As the last of the water poured into her mouth, she pulled the bottle away and returned the cap with a single twist. The more silence dredged on, the more energy she sensed—her mother’s worry, her father’s disgruntlement, and Delia’s curiosity.
She understood the relevance of those emotions and why each felt the way they did. What she couldn’t accept was the distance and hurt in Layne’s energy. He was the one who wanted space between them, even went to the trouble of stressing how much he wanted it. Where did he get off directing the hurt in his soul toward her?
Pushing the thoughts aside, she refocused on her mother, who sat on a bench near the bay window. Her statuesque posture concerned Heaven, as did the way she stared toward the patio doors. The glass didn’t interest her, but Layne did. She looked at him as if he were a puzzle she needed to put together.
Heaven wanted to save her the time and trouble. She’d spent the last five months trying to do the same. It gained her nothing but an anger-filled argument on the side of the interstate and a very pissed off husband.
Crackling wood drew her eyes to her father. He knelt in front of the fireplace, poking a log he’d placed inside when they first came to the den. Though he seemed focused on getting the fire started, she knew it was a means for distraction. What he really wanted was to knock some sense into Dylan and Layne, which didn’t surprise her in the least. She had no doubts he’d read their thoughts the second they walked into the house.
Once the silence reached its limit on awkwardness, she leaned to the edge of the couch, gaining Delia’s attention as she sat in the chair across from them. “I don’t mean to be rude or impatient, but your silence concerns me. We sacrificed sleep because we wanted to get here as soon as we could. You and my parents are the only
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