Book 9: Don't Trust Her

Sarah

Blake lifts his head from the carpet in the sitting room off the foyer, his chubby fingers gripping the carpet fibers as he whines, his mouth pulled in a frown. 

“This is supposed to be good for you, honey,” I urge when he starts to fuss. Dalia, on her knees beside me, nods in silent agreement. “See? You’re learning how to push up with your arms. Soon you’ll be rolling over onto your back if you want it bad enough.”

In response, Blake turns purple with rage and lets out a howl that I’m sure can be heard in the village. 

Dalia and I exchange looks, but she chuckles softly and promptly scoops him into her arms. “Bath time, then bed, I think,” she says, meeting my eyes for confirmation. 

I nod, shrugging. I watch them walk away and feel a pang of guilt ghost through my chest. My milk dried up. It was my fault for being so stupid and reckless. Blake doesn’t need me for that anymore, but I’ve been spending all my days wi