Page 119 of Wyatt

Really.

Coco lay on the bed with Mikka, his tiny body tucked against hers. He’d woken after the procedure’s novocaine wore off and felt well enough to go down the hall to the play area. Now, four hours later, he’d eaten dinner and had fallen asleep watching something on the television.

Coco had wasted way too much of that time watching the doorway, calling herself a fool.

Gerri had fetched her dinner from the cafeteria, as well as picked up a puzzle for Mikka in the gift shop, teaching him how to put it together, even learning a few Russian words.

Gigi. She practically glowed every time he called her that.

Coco would have been so happy she could burst if it weren’t for the unbroken shadows down the hallway.

Now, Gerri sat in the recliner, under a blanket, asleep, and Coco was trying to grapple with the hard truth.

Despite Gerri’s words, she was in this alone.

She should keep reminding herself that deep inside her soul, she’d expected this.

Well, notthis. Not her life imploding around her, but she’d gotten so used to Wyatt not really wanting her…

Oh, Coco. I love you.

She closed her eyes against the burn. No. He’d wanted her.

He just hadn’t wantedthem.

Except…I’m crazy about him, Cookie.

Oh, she didn’t know what to think. Just…he wasn’t here. And the longer the hours stretched out, the clearer the fact was that he wasn’t coming back.

Wyatt loves you enough to do something crazy like go to Russia to find you. I haveno doubtthat he will come back, his heart in his hands.

Frankly, she didn’t blame him. After all, she’d been so overwhelmed with Mikka she allowed her father to talk her into sending him to an orphanage. She didn’t deserve Mikka.

He stirred in her arms, made a noise, and she bent, kissed his cheek. He smelled of the cotton sheets, the antiseptic on his skin. A bittersweet, sort of sickly smell that she should probably get used to.

What if he had leukemia?

What if she wasn’t a match?

What if Mikka was taken from her?

She didn’t want to think about the what-ifs. She closed her eyes, her throat thick. Only three days ago she’d actually contemplated disappearing.Leaving him behind.In fact, if she hadn’t been on the run, if she hadn’t gotten shot, she might not have seen Mikka for another month, when she came for his birthday. And who knew how sick he would have been by then?

The thought stilled her. In a strange way, maybe God had saved her son because of the chaos of her father’s near assassination.

Gerri stirred in the chair, and Coco heard her voice.You don’t have to fix this, Coco. You don’t have to run anymore. You don’t have to figure out how to keep yourself and Mikka safe. You don’t have to doanythingbut let Jesus care for you.

She hadn’t let anyone care for her for so long, she wasn’t sure, exactly, what that looked like. Being weak only got her into trouble.

She’d been weak when she met Wyatt. He made her feel wanted and safe. In fact, her broken, empty heart had always led her into Wyatt’s arms.

When you are weak, He is strong. Because to Him, you belong.

She tightened her arm around Mikka. Closed her eyes. Because despite Gerri’s words, she knew the truth.

She’d blown it with God. She’d had her chance—He’d given her a fresh start with the Marshall family, and she’d taken their trust and…

Coco, are you sure? My parents…they’re going to be home soon—