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