Juniper Hill (The Edens, #2)

by Devney Perry

Motherhood, I’d learned in the past two months, was nothing more than a ritual of second-guessing yourself.

That tiny cry was like a dagger to my heart. It was the sound of a dream lost. The sound of a family gone.

Maybe motherhood wasn’t always being the person your child leaned on, but finding the person they needed when you weren’t enough.

“I cook for you because it’s how I show someone I care. I cook for you because I love the look on your face after that first bite. I cook for you because I’d rather cook for you than anyone else.” “What?” My jaw dropped. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with you, woman.” My mouth was still open. Which suited Knox just fine. Because he raised his hands, framed my face. Then sealed his lips over mine.

Knox was a good man. He was as reliable as the sunrise. As breathtaking as the Montana sunsets. He was the type of person I wanted Drake to become.

“You are . . . you are a dream,” he breathed. “I gave up on those.” My breath hitched. “So did I.”

“Then here’s another truth. I’m going to take them. I’m going to take all of your bests. Every damn one until you can’t keep track of the top five anymore because there are so many bests that you’ll need a hundred to capture them all.”

“You would turn your back on your family?” “Be careful, Daddy. Your hypocrisy is showing.”

Passion comes from the mess, Memphis.” He threaded his hands into my hair. “So does everything lasting.”

“Let me make this clear. You are mine. Drake is mine. For all of your todays and each of your tomorrows. Mine.

“Because he wakes up before dawn,” Griffin muttered, pulling out a stool. “My boy’s a morning kid.” “Not mine.” Knox pulled out the stool beside his brother. “Mine’s a night owl.”