My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 412

Nadia

The smell of disinfectant and something bitter, like the burned popcorn the nurse station microwave always produced, hung in the air. I wanted to scrub it from my nostrils.

I don't know how long I sat there, curled on the hard plastic chair, fingers pinched white from gripping the gurney rail. The metal made a soft complaint as I straightened my legs. Pins and needles prickled my thighs, biting like a swarm of wasps. I shifted, trying to shake them off, but they clung tenaciously.

A sound, then: the squeak of wheels on a cart, somewhere behind me. One wheel needed oil, or a replacement, its protest rising and falling in an almost rhythmic melody.

Then, as if some internal projector clicked on, I saw the room in full color. Gowned figures moved with precision, exchanging hushed words. My father's body, covered in a white sheet, lay still on the gurney. And there, one hand dangled from beneath the cover, its fingers curled gently.

I stared at the hand, unmoving, transfixed. My father's hand. The stoic, steady hand that had always been there, to catch me, to hold me, to guide my own trembling fingers through a tricky knot. Now that hand hung limp, a pale ghost of what it once was.

A memory surfaced, sharp and clear, of him holding my hand as a child. Maybe I was six or seven, no older than Toby. I couldn't recall the reason, but I had been scared, crying, and Edran was there, warm and solid beside me. His thumb rubbed slow circles on my palm, calming me. I remembered the feel of the skin on his wrist, rougher where the scar was, the one from the wolfsbane accident.

Did he mean this? I wondered, still staring at the hand. When he said last night that he would fix everything. Fix it, make it all go away.

I scoff-cried, the sound harsh in my own ears. I shook my head, scattering the thought. He took the easy way out.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify