*Through Emily's Eyes*
“Izzy, baby, stop hovering around me like a nervous bee. I’m fine,” Dad said, swatting Mom’s hands away as she tried fluffing the pillows around him for the third time in two minutes.
The look she gave him shut him up, and he indulged her and let her go about her business.
Since watching Dad and Uncle Xander after they were shot, I wasn’t sure which was worse: being the person injured or being the mate of someone injured. Obviously being shot was painful, but they seemed much less frazzled than Mom and Aunt Sage.
“I still think you should be in the hospital,” she mumbled, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. The look of love in his eyes as he looked at her was both adorable and disgusting. Was any child in the world comfortable with their
