Sulliv
rd was a key, jamming into the dee
d aroun
y room. He had a mop of soft, dark brown hair and impossibly large
black backpack that looked
of the baby the doctors had pronounced stillborn all tho
ought away. I was exh
gentle. "Hey, little guy. I think you ha
antly filled with tears. He shook his head, h
e wrapped his arms around my neck, burying his face in my should
s so small, so warm, smelling fa
ing myself to
u're incredibly sweet, kiddo,
mommy. I kno
suddenly cut through the air from the
l body giving a visible shudder b
is gaze towa
tractive men, it seemed none of them could
l. His features were impeccably carved, like a masterpiece of marble, with a sharp, intelligent, and composed look in his e
ed out, immediately s
ally understanding exactly wh
oom," the man o
dded obediently. It was obvious the kid
ng back to my room now. It's right ne
puppy-dog eyes, I simply cou
ver later to properly explain to the po
Mason, but my nickname is Ma
uction, Mason reluctantly shuffle
anding next to him, the height difference between the elite
re time. His demeanor was stiff and completely aloof. Yet, somehow, it didn't come off as
A man like that, who treated strangers with such co
ibly difficult, but I stubbornly and proudly forced myself up onto my crutches. It was just instinct-the habit of being alone through a
rt of myself. It was exactly why, even when the sky seeme
lly managed to hobble out of the restroom on m
ing right in the midd
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