CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Kevin was screaming and, quite frankly, it was like music to Mackenzie’s ears.
It was time for his nighttime bottle—the one he seemed to be the most impatient for. But he was down to only one feeding a night, so Mackenzie was not going to complain. She got out of bed, placing a gentle hand on Ellington’s arm as she felt him trying to edge out of bed.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said. “I’ve got him.”
He only grunted. He’d suffered three broken ribs from Pinkett’s blow with the baseball bat. His doctors were making him sleep in a slightly elevated sleeping position, which he hated. Given the way their last day in Wyoming had played out, she was well aware that she was fortunate to have come away with nothing more than a massive bruise on the right side of her ches
