Two weeks. Fourteen days of agonizing stillness. The silence of the master suite was broken only by the cold, rhythmic hiss of the medical monitors and the quiet, helpless cries of the twins demanding a mother who could not answer them.
On the morning of the fourteenth day, Elana found Fennigan standing like a ghost between the cribs. Caspian was crying softly against his broad shoulder, his tiny fists curled in the fabric of Finnegan's shirt, while Briar fussed restlessly in the crook of his other arm. Finnegan rocked them with an automatic, mechanical rhythm, but his hollow, exhausted eyes remained dead-locked on the open door connecting the nursery to the master suite.
Elana stepped into the room and gently laid a hand on his arm.
“Fenn, I need to speak to you.”
“If this is about sl
