Her All Along

by Cara Dee

  Elise hugged my arm and pressed a kiss to my shoulder.

  I extended one of the sets of keys to her and smiled a little.

  It was overwhelming to have your dreams come true.

  “Are you ready for this, Pipsqueak?” I asked quietly.

  She’d come such a long way. Gone were the cartoon PJs and pigtails. Next to me sat a graceful, energetic, young woman who’d just crushed her education goals and was ready to start her own business. Subtle makeup, strong opinions, a dirty mind, the kindest and most mischievous twinkle in her eyes, keys in one hand, a glass of champagne in the other, and her white-gold bracelet glinting in the light, a birthday gift from me.

  “I’m so ready, Mister.”

  So was I. Fuck, I couldn’t even describe how ready I was, and it was because of her. Because of that slip of a girl who’d been by my side in one way or another for a decade. She’d always been what I’d needed. A fresh perspective, a friend, my most avid supporter, brave, ballsy, constantly genuine.

  It’d been her all along.

  Epilogue 1

  Two years later

  God only knows…

  My eyes flashed open, and a streak of terror bolted through me.

  That fucking song. I hadn’t heard it in my head for years and years.

  I heard my mother’s cackling laughter, the crunch of her teeth crushing hard candy, and her voice as she sang along with the lyrics and chased Finn and me around in the living room. Not a happy chase. I’d pleaded with her to stop; I’d begged for forgiveness without knowing if I’d done something wrong. But I must’ve, since she was punishing us.

  I swallowed dryly and sat up in bed, and I rubbed at a tight spot in my chest.

  Fuck.

  My feet hit the floor with a muted thud.

  God only knows…

  “Elise?” I called hoarsely.

  What the hell was happening to me? The pressure over my chest grew heavier, and it sent radiating pains out my arm. Jesus Christ, was my life too good? That had to be it. Evidently, I wasn’t allowed to be happy.

  Maybe she’d heard the urgency in my voice, because I heard her running up the stairs. Then she appeared in the doorway, and a breath gusted out of me. Aside from the visible worry in her expression, she was perfection. Sunday morning perfection. Flour on her cheek, wearing one of my tees and my boxer shorts. She was probably making pancakes with Grace in the kitchen. It was their Sunday tradition.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?” She hurried over to me, and I pulled her between my legs and hugged her midsection, effectively burying my face against her stomach. “Ave…?”

  “I don’t know. Bad dream, maybe.” I cleared my throat and breathed in her scent.

  Deep breaths.

  I let my hands roam her body, her hips, her ass, her thighs, her sides, then her stomach.

  Deep breaths.

  The past slowly loosened its grip on me, and I was able to anchor myself in the present again.

  “What can I do, Mister?”

  I shook my head and lifted her tee to press my lips to her stomach. “You’re already doing it.”

  Deep breaths.

  I couldn’t wait for her to start showing. This time, I wasn’t missing a damn thing. No one could keep me away from every part of her pregnancy.

  “Mommy!” Grace yelled from downstairs. “Are you and Daddy canoodling?”

  I coughed around a laugh and felt the last of the terror piss off. Thank fucking goodness for my family. They were everything.

  “This is why we shouldn’t let Willow babysit,” Elise giggled.

  I chuckled and peered up at her. “I kind of like it.”

  Willow taught our girl the most random words. Canoodling, blimey, bamboozle, lollygag, and malarkey were just from this spring.

  “Come sit with us in the kitchen,” Pipsqueak urged. “You need some coffee, good music, and watching us make breakfast.”

  That sounded perfect to me. “Count me in. Not that you know what good music is.”

  She slapped my shoulder lightly, causing me to smirk up at her.

  The unease tried to sneak its way back throughout the day. When it did, I sought out Elise and Grace.

  Sunday was sacred. The only day everyone was off, and we tended to spend it without intrusions. A family day for a family with hectic lives. But today, it seemed like the world had other plans.

  Aside from the wretched memories of my childhood trying to make themselves known, Darius stopped by after lunch with a glum Lias.

  “It’s your turn,” Darius told us, pushing Lias through the doorway. “Doesn’t matter what the fuck I do. He won’t cheer up. It’s been a goddamn month.”

  I winced. I loved my buddy, but he wasn’t the most sympathetic creature when it came to love and relationships.

  “Can you be nice?” Elise demanded frankly.

  Darius offered a blank expression.

  I gave Lias’s shoulder a squeeze and told him to go into the kitchen. Elise had all kinds of sweets for him there, and I had beer and whiskey if that was what he wanted.

  “A month is nothing,” Elise pointed out.

  “I’ve never needed that long to get over someone,” Darius retorted.

  Christ. “I don’t even know where to begin,” I drawled.

  “I do,” Elise said. Then she began ticking things off her fingers. “For one, a milk carton in your fridge is likely to last longer than the women you date. Two, they were together over fifteen years—they grew up together. Three, you’re an asshole sometimes.”

  Darius frowned. “You’re not that pleasant right now either, El.”

  “I’m more pleasant than you are,” Elise shot back and shut the door in her brother’s face. “God. One day, fuck, I hope someone will knock him on his ass.”

  I kept my amusement to myself and followed her out into the kitchen.

  While Elise sat down next to Lias at the table, I got us some coffee.

  It was a mystery, though. Lias and Evelina had been together since junior high. No one had thought they’d make it past high school. But when they remained solid throughout college too, it was assumed they’d get married and start a family. Then, out of the blue, Evelina broke up with him last month. Not only that, but she left town.

  I didn’t get it. And frankly, I was irritated with her. She didn’t have much of a family of her own, so the Quinns had taken her in, much like they’d been there for me. Now she was gone, without a word to us.

  We’d waited. Willow and Elise had speculated for a little while; maybe something had been wrong that we didn’t know about. Ryan and Angel had gotten married. Elise and I had gotten married. In other words, Mary had attended two weddings that always came with the question, “When is it your turn?” And Lias and Evie had been somewhat evasive, though not shown any signs that something was actually wrong. To that degree. Besides, not everyone got married. Not everyone wanted children. Nothing weird with that. Except, Lias wasn’t one of those people. He was family-oriented and wanted kids, house, dog, the whole nine yards.

  On the matter of dogs… He’d adopted two just this month, and he’d moved back home to his parents.

  “Daddy!” Grace yelled. “I watched the movie!”

  “I’ll be right there, love,” I hollered back. “Actually—come say hi to Uncle Lias. I think he needs a hug.”

  “Okay!”

  She abandoned the living room and darted into the kitchen as I brought the coffee to the table.

  “Whatsa matter?” She crawled up on Lias’s lap and offered no privacy whatsoever. “Are you sad?”

  He mustered a small smile and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m feelin’ better already.”

  “What can we do, buddy?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

  “Nothing. Actually, this is good. I need distractions.” He shrugged out of his leather jacket and repositioned Grace on his lap.

  “Ave is building a vegetable garden for me in the backyard,” Elise mentioned. “M
aybe you can help him? My tomatoes need to be transplanted outside soon anyway.”

  My wife didn’t need another project. I did. I liked doing that sort of thing for her, but she was so busy with her shop as it was. Though, try talking a Quinn out of something…

  She claimed it would give her the “perfect mild exercise” through the summer as her belly grew larger. As if she didn’t run around plenty at work. Thankfully, she’d been able to afford her first full-time employee this year. And Mary loved helping out too.

  “Just put me to work,” Lias said. “Anything to get me outta my head.”

  “You gots to have a head,” Grace scoffed.

  I grinned.

  “Ave, you want them lined up along the fence?” Lias asked.

  “Here, Daddy?” Grace was being ever helpful.

  I looked up from the crate I was building and squinted toward the corner of the backyard. “Leave five or six inches between the crates and the fence,” I replied. Living on the very outskirts of Downtown meant you had a taller fence in the back, because this was northern Washington and there was plenty of wildlife. It also meant, since the fence was wood, you had to take care of it. I didn’t want the soil from Elise’s gardening to turn the fence into decomposed mush in a few years.

  While Lias lined the crates near the fence, with his little helper in tow, I went back to finishing the next one.

  There’d be twelve in total, and each one would be filled with soil that Darius was bringing over tomorrow. He’d recently bought a piece of land up in Westslope, the forest district north of here, so he had more soil than he needed. He’d spend the next couple of years building his…homestead. We weren’t allowed to call it a house. It would be a homestead straight from the 1800s. But he had time. He said he wasn’t going to start building anything until the loan he’d taken out for the restaurant was paid back in full.

  It’d be nice if he had processed timber too. I had to go to the lumberyard again next weekend when it was time to build a smaller fence around the garden. Wildlife was one thing. Protecting the garden from Grace and the little one on the way was a whole other.

  This house had turned out great for us. There was always something new to fix, and I felt better being able to build something with my own hands. Whether it’d been Pipsqueak’s dream kitchen, replacing the molding in the living room, installing insulation in the garage, building a deck here on the patio, or now, fixing her garden, I was there. I’d racked up an impressive collection of tools and workbenches that I kept in the garage.

  I suspected Elise had helped Grace pick out a tool belt for me for Christmas…for other reasons than practicality, though.

  I smirked to myself and reached for the drill—

  “Avery, honey?” Elise poked her head out the terrace door. “I need you two seconds—figuratively speaking.”

  “All right.” I stood up and brushed my hands off down my thighs.

  I shed my boots and hoodie at the door, because Elise didn’t want sawdust everywhere. She may have told me that once or twice.

  Then I followed her to the kitchen, or more precisely, the kitchen window.

  “Who are we spying on?” I joked.

  Our neighbors were, much like us, preparing for summer. Shutters were being cleaned, cars washed, flower bed shrubs tossed out, and picket fence repainted. Ours had a good decade to go, I hoped. I’d repainted it last spring.

  “The blue Ford behind Mr. Cohen’s car.”

  “I was kidding, baby.”

  “I wasn’t. Look.” She tugged at my arm and pointed toward the car. “It’s the third time this week I’ve seen that car, and I swear the man looks like you.”

  My stomach tightened instinctively, and I couldn’t avoid the car even if I wanted to. My gaze became fixed on it.

  God only knows…

  It was nearly impossible to see because Cohen’s car blocked the Ford’s driver’s side. But I did see someone. Through the back window of Cohen’s vehicle, I saw someone sitting behind the wheel.

  It couldn’t be him.

  “Finn doesn’t know where we live,” I had to say.

  “It’s a simple Google search, Ave,” she murmured.

  I swallowed and looked again.

  God only knows…

  When I shifted a bit to the left, I got a fraction of a second with a better view before the man in the Ford turned his head, and what my brain refused to admit, my body already believed wholeheartedly. My heart started hammering in my chest, my hands broke out in a cold sweat, and my throat closed up.

  I shut my eyes and watched that little glimpse on repeat. A reflection of myself, except it wasn’t me.

  Pipsqueak hugged my arm. “I wouldn’t have called you in here for anything less than a strong suspicion.”

  I knew that.

  Go to him.

  I didn’t know if my wife told me, or if I heard her voice in my head, but I nodded once before my body took charge. I didn’t recall making the decision to leave the kitchen, to walk out the front door, or to close the gate behind me, but suddenly I was on the sidewalk in front of my house. The air was crisp, the sun warm. Thoughts jumbled. Memories began playing on a reel in my head, Finn’s shy grins mingling with his cries of despair. If it was, in fact, him in that car, he would be a stranger to me. He’d be nothing like the man I’d created in my mind.

  As soon as I’d passed the parked cars along the curb and made it out onto the street, there was nothing obstructing my view, and a whirlwind of emotions surged forward. It’s him. He spotted me too, and he looked fucking terrified, this spitting image of myself. I didn’t even register the steps I took toward him; I only noticed that I got closer and closer—until I was right next to his car.

  My breathing was weirdly calm and even, a stark contrast to the rest of me.

  My God, it was Finn. He glanced up at me with so much trepidation as he opened the door, and he could not look more reluctant to step out of the car. But he did it. He was here. He’d been here…according to Pipsqueak, more than once.

  He looked a bit more ragged than me. I couldn’t look away from him, and I was already cataloguing his features. The scruff on his jaw, the messiness of his hair, jeans and a wrinkled button-down, the same fucking eyes I saw every morning in the mirror when I shaved.

  A voice at the back of my head screamed at me. I didn’t hear the words for shit, but before I knew it, I pulled him in for a tight hug, and something broke within me. My eyes flooded with tears, my breathing stuttered, and my heart stopped for a moment.

  I heard a short, quiet, choked sound escape him as he hugged me back.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my hold on him further.

  “I don’t have my life together like you do,” he croaked.

  Jesus Christ, he had my voice too.

  “I don’t care.” I sniffled and refused to let go of him. “I don’t fucking care, Finn.”

  He sniffled too and dropped his forehead to my shoulder. “Did you know that she’s dead?”

  I stiffened for a second. Our mother was dead…

  Relief pummeled through me and caused a fresh round of emotions to well up.

  “When?”

  “Few years ago.”

  “Not a moment too soon, then.”

  He exhaled unsteadily. “No.”

  After a while, I eased up a little so I could look him in the eye. The sight of him made my heart beat faster. I couldn’t describe how good it felt.

  He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “They tracked me down when she died. Asked if I wanted to attend the burial. I fucking hung up on them.”

  “I would’ve done the same.”

  Maybe I’d made myself clear enough when I’d visited that I didn’t want anything to do with her, because it wouldn’t have been difficult to track me down either.

  He nodded slowly and glanced over at my house. “I think someone’s watching us.”

  My mouth twitched. I didn’t need to follow his stare
to see who it was. “Elise—my wife. You’ll like her.”

  He swallowed and dropped his gaze to the ground. “I saw your wedding photos on Facebook last year. And your house when you moved in. And your daughter. And the announcement when your wife adopted your girl. And two vacations. Oh, and when your wife opened her shops.”

  So, he’d lurked in the background for a while. It made sense with what I knew of him. Of the person he’d once been. Careful, cautious, curious.

  “I don’t think I’ll fit in anywhere in your family, Ave.”

  I cocked my head and stuck my hands down in the pockets of my jeans. “There was a place for me in what I call family today back when I had nothing to show for myself. When I was at my worst. Hating my job, going through a divorce, ready to pull the trigger on myself.”

  His gaze snapped up at that. “You tried to kill yourself?”

  I half shrugged. “With a gun, there’s no try. I chickened out every time.”

  He winced. “I tried to hang myself once.”

  I clenched my jaw, and he became blurry as my eyes filled with unshed tears.

  I could’ve lost him long before I ever got him back in my life. And he had to be back. He belonged with me.

  “When?” I had to clear my throat.

  “I don’t know—five or six years ago. I was a junkie. Complete screw-up.”

  Jesus. We had a lot to talk about.

  “I’m clean now, though,” he said, uncertainty in his tone. “I wouldn’t barge into your life, otherwise. I haven’t had anything stronger than coffee and beer in years.”

  I furrowed my brow and watched him fidget nervously, and he retrieved a pack of smokes from his back pocket and lit one up.

  “Finn, you don’t have to earn a spot in my life. I’ve missed you for as long as we’ve been separated, and if you think for a fucking second that you can only be around us once you’ve…I don’t even know, proven yourself worthy, you’re out of your damn mind.”