[This post is from Kira’s point of view.]
Teague exhaled a sigh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. Little Seamus stirred in his arms, yawning, then seemed to drift back to sleep again. Teague choked on a laugh and Kira leaned back a little, her brow arching.
He shook his head. “Just—sometimes I wish life was simpler. Everything’s so simple for him. We take care of him, feed him, change his diaper, cuddle him when he cries, hold him until he sleeps. He doesn’t have to shoulder the weight of the whole damn world.”
“Neither do we,” she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek with a damp hand. “You did your piece already, Teague. You did what you could—we did what we could. That part is over for us. Now we get to rest for a little while.” Her stomach dropped, her throat tightening. “Right?”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Her heart fell.
“Teague.” She took his face in both hands, now, cradling it gently between her palms. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, tears sparkling along his lashes. Her words came as a croak. “I thought we got to rest, now.”
“It’s changing,” he whispered bleakly. “Everything I thought I knew—I’m afraid it’s wrong, Kira. I’m afraid I was wrong, that Phelan is wrong, that everything we thought we knew is suddenly different. We thought we knew what would come to pass. We thought we knew what was going to happen, the general path of things. But now—now I’m not sure anymore. I don’t know why I ever was, how I could have been. Little things change so much.”
“But some things remain constant,” she said, thumbs stroking his cheeks, his lips. “Some things will always be. You both told me that. I believed you—and I still do, Teague. I still do.”
“How can you still believe that when I don’t myself?”
“Because one of us has to keep faith,” she said softly. “Through everything, one of us has to be strong. Right now, it’s my turn. Someday, it’ll be yours again. But not today. Not today.”