A grave injury leaves Hunter in a dangerous state. A place where he can no longer see the light. In anything. But Mackenzie can’t—and won’t—accept that.
So she sends him a reason to live. With that comes unforeseen difficulties.
Once again, Mackenzie sees firsthand how strong Hunter’s love and determination can really be. But is that enough? Will their lives ever be the same again?
So she sends him a reason to live. With that comes unforeseen difficulties.
Once again, Mackenzie sees firsthand how strong Hunter’s love and determination can really be. But is that enough? Will their lives ever be the same again?
When I’m finished packing, I join the other two in the living room. They’re sitting on the couch, arms crossed in front of their chests.
“I don’t want!” Hazel cries.
“But you can’t stay dirty like that,” Carey reasons with her.
“Yes, I can.”
“People need to take baths, Hazeline.”
“Not Hazel.”
“Aren’t you a person, too, Hazel?”
She shakes her head. I lean against the doorframe, amused.
“What are you then?”
“Tid.”
I smile. She’s pretty quick.
“Isn’t a kid a person, too?” Carey insists. Hazel shakes her head. “No? What is it, then?”
“Lion.”
Carey smiles. “A lion?”
“Grrr,” she says, sounding more like Simba’s first attempt at a roar than any real lion.
“Well, little lions have to take baths, too,” Carey tells her.
“How?” She looks genuinely confused.
“Their mommies lick them.”
“Eww!”
“So, what’s it going to be, little lion? Are you going to take a bath, or do you want Mac to lick you?”
She gives him a critical look. “With bubbies.”
“Bubbles it is.”
“Pink bubbies.”
He smiles and stretches his hand toward her. She slips hers in it and shakes it as hard as she can like they’ve just struck a business deal.
Carey looks up and sees me standing there. “Your baby does not want to be licked.”
“That’s totally okay. I don’t really want to lick such a dirty baby.” I pull a face and make scary hissing sounds, sending her running all over the living room. I run after her, yelling that I’m going to eat her. She squeals and sprints into Carey’s arms.
I come after her, and she squeaks as I kiss her shoulder making licking sounds. Carey laughs and saves her from me.
“Come on, let’s get to the bathroom, Hazeline, quick!”
She nods emphatically, and together they sprint out of the living room. I run after them, still making scary sounds they seem to find hilarious. Carey slams the door shut in my face, and I scratch at it, hearing them laugh inside.
“Your mom is crazy,” Carey laughs.
“Yeah,” the little traitor agrees, clapping her hands.
“I don’t want!” Hazel cries.
“But you can’t stay dirty like that,” Carey reasons with her.
“Yes, I can.”
“People need to take baths, Hazeline.”
“Not Hazel.”
“Aren’t you a person, too, Hazel?”
She shakes her head. I lean against the doorframe, amused.
“What are you then?”
“Tid.”
I smile. She’s pretty quick.
“Isn’t a kid a person, too?” Carey insists. Hazel shakes her head. “No? What is it, then?”
“Lion.”
Carey smiles. “A lion?”
“Grrr,” she says, sounding more like Simba’s first attempt at a roar than any real lion.
“Well, little lions have to take baths, too,” Carey tells her.
“How?” She looks genuinely confused.
“Their mommies lick them.”
“Eww!”
“So, what’s it going to be, little lion? Are you going to take a bath, or do you want Mac to lick you?”
She gives him a critical look. “With bubbies.”
“Bubbles it is.”
“Pink bubbies.”
He smiles and stretches his hand toward her. She slips hers in it and shakes it as hard as she can like they’ve just struck a business deal.
Carey looks up and sees me standing there. “Your baby does not want to be licked.”
“That’s totally okay. I don’t really want to lick such a dirty baby.” I pull a face and make scary hissing sounds, sending her running all over the living room. I run after her, yelling that I’m going to eat her. She squeals and sprints into Carey’s arms.
I come after her, and she squeaks as I kiss her shoulder making licking sounds. Carey laughs and saves her from me.
“Come on, let’s get to the bathroom, Hazeline, quick!”
She nods emphatically, and together they sprint out of the living room. I run after them, still making scary sounds they seem to find hilarious. Carey slams the door shut in my face, and I scratch at it, hearing them laugh inside.
“Your mom is crazy,” Carey laughs.
“Yeah,” the little traitor agrees, clapping her hands.
I'm a contemporary romance writer, who likes her men tattooed, her women independent and her coffee strong.
My stories are all about love, but some are of the romantic kind, some of the sad kind and others of the very steamy kind. So if you can stand drama, foul language and sex, you came to the right place.
Love, Annie
My stories are all about love, but some are of the romantic kind, some of the sad kind and others of the very steamy kind. So if you can stand drama, foul language and sex, you came to the right place.
Love, Annie
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