The Things We Leave Unfinished Yarros, Rebecca (reading like a writer .TXT) 📖

know, I know, I look a lot like your mummy, but she’s at least a half-inch taller than I am, and her feet are a full size bigger. Don’t worry, we’ll come into focus a bit better once you’re a few months older.” She lowered her face. “Want to know a secret? I’m going to be your godmother. That means I’ll love you, and spoil you, and always, always protect you. Even from your mummy’s awful cooking.”

Scarlett scoffed.

“Now, I’m going to go make something for her to eat.” She smiled down at the baby one more time, then handed him back to Scarlett. “Do you need anything before I head downstairs?” She eased off the bed as the bedroom door flew open.

…

“Are you okay?” Jameson’s strides ate up the distance to the bed as Constance slipped past him out of the bedroom. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he’d landed, or more specifically, since the clerk ran him down and told him Constance had called that morning.

That. Morning. No one had radioed—not that he could have gone off mission and flown back, but he would have. Somehow.

“I’m fine,” Scarlett promised, smiling up at him with a mix of radiance and what he assumed had to be bone-weary exhaustion. She looked unharmed, but there was a lot of her he couldn’t see under all those blankets. “Meet your son.” Her smile widened as she lifted the small, blanketed bundle.

He sat on the edge of the bed and cradled the tiny, breakable baby in his arms, careful to support his head. His skin was pink, the shock of hair he could see was black, and his eyes were blue. He was gorgeous, and Jameson was instantly head over heels.

“Our son.” Jameson looked at his wife to find her already watching him, her eyes heavy with unshed tears. “He’s amazing.”

“He is.” She flashed a smile, and twin tears streaked down her face. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too.” He leaned forward and brushed her tears away, careful to keep his son tucked safely in the crook of his arm. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“Only the messy bits,” she countered. “It’s only been an hour or so.”

“And you’re truly okay? How do you feel?”

“Tired. Happy. Like I’ve been torn in two. Madly in love.” She leaned in slightly to gaze down at their son.

“Go back to the torn-in-two part,” he demanded.

Scarlett laughed. “I’m fine. Really. Nothing abnormal.”

“You’d tell me if something had gone wrong? If you were hurt?” Jameson studied her carefully, weighing her words with her eyes, her face, and the set of her shoulders.

“I would,” she promised. “Though he’d be worth it.”

Jameson’s eyes fell to his son, who looked up at him with quiet expectation. An old soul, then. “What do you want to name him?” They’d been kicking around names for months.

“I like William.”

Jameson smiled, glancing up at his wife and nodding. “Hi, William. Welcome to life. The first thing you need to know is that your mother is always right, which you probably already know, since she’s been saying you were a boy for the last six months.”

Scarlett laughed, but it was softer. Her eyelids were drooping, too.

“The second thing is I’m your dad, so it’s a good thing you look a lot like your mom.” He lowered his lips to William’s head and pressed a soft kiss at his hairline. “I love you.”

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss over Scarlett’s mouth. “And I love you. Thank you for him.”

“I love you, too, and I could say the same.” Her breaths deepened, so Jameson placed their son in the small cradle next to the bed and tucked his wife in.

“Can I do anything?”

“Just stay,” she whispered, fading off to sleep.

That first night was an eye-opener. William was up every few hours, and Jameson did what he could to help, but he couldn’t exactly feed him.

They were already awake at seven a.m. when there was a knock on their bedroom door.

“Probably Constance,” Scarlett muttered with William at her shoulder.

Jameson glanced back to make sure she was covered, then opened the door to find Constance standing in the hallway, blocking Howard.

“You can wait downstairs,” she snapped.

“This can’t wait.”

“What’s going on?” Jameson asked from the doorway.

Howard raked his hand through his hair and looked at Jameson over the top of Constance’s head. “I figured you hadn’t turned on the news.”

“No.” His stomach tensed.

“The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. Thousands are dead. The fleet’s gone,” he said with a slight break in his voice.

“Holy shit.” Thousands are dead. Jameson sagged against the doorframe. He’d dedicated the past two years of his life to keeping this war from reaching American soil, while another had sucker-punched them.

“Yeah. You know what that means?” Howard’s jaw flexed.

Jameson nodded, looking back over his shoulder at Scarlett’s horrified expression before facing his friend again. “We’re on the wrong side of the world.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Noah

Scarlett,

How are you, my love? Are you as miserable as I am? I found us a house off-station. Now all that remains are your orders and we’ll be together again. I’ll wait forever for you, Scarlett. Forever…

My arms and back ached as I rolled my shoulders and neck behind the desk. The storm had dumped three feet of snow over the last two days, and it had taken me the better part of two hours to dig out Georgia’s house. Could I have called the plow company? Absolutely, but winter in Colorado made my favorite workout—climbing—impossible, so I’d seen it as an opportunity. I’d also gravely underestimated the length of the driveway.

“Busy?” Georgia popped her head into the open office door, and I forgot every single sore muscle. “I don’t want to interrupt your flow, but I didn’t hear typing so I thought this might be an opportune moment for lunch.” Her smile would have knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t already been sitting.

“You can have whatever moments you want.” I meant it, too. Whatever she wanted, she could have—including me.

“Well, it’s not much, but I