In Name Only (A Pine Falls Novel Book 2)

by Jennifer Peel

  Brock’s eyes widened. “Your past?” He seemed confused.

  Hadn’t his father told him?

  “No. He wouldn’t do that.” Brock was in denial. “He said he was going to talk to you. Tell you how much our family needed you.”

  That was quite the spin on it. He’d told me how much he needed me to keep my mouth shut. I was done being quiet. “That’s not how the conversation went. Ask him yourself. Edward Copeland owns your dad. I don’t know why or how, but your dad seems desperate to keep him happy.”

  Brock turned his shocked face up to the tiled ceiling as if begging God for me not to be telling the truth. “I need to talk to my dad.”

  “You do that.”

  He lowered his head and locked eyes with me. “So you didn’t want to marry me?” Hurt and vulnerability laced his words.

  I rubbed my heart. “Brock, I dreamed of marrying you for years. But not like this. This was a mistake. We were a mistake,” I cried out.

  Chapter Twenty

  I was pretty sure I was starting to stink, but I’d been crying so much my nose was too stuffed to tell. Honestly, I didn’t care, and I had no desire to get out of bed and shower. That meant actually living, and I’d decided that was highly overrated. Living meant hurting. Besides, leaving my room meant seeing Brock, who had been keeping vigil on the new leather couch in the loft. After declaring the old burnt orange couch unsalvageable, he’d had a new couch delivered and had decided since I wouldn’t go home with him, he would come home with me.

  The man wouldn’t go away, even after I’d told him all the things his dad knew about me. He hadn’t even flinched when I told him about my sordid past. All he had said was, “I don’t give a damn about your past—I only care about our future.” The thing was, we didn’t have a future. And he did care about my past. He had cared that I was going to have his brother’s baby. My baby, who was gone. Who had left me feeling so empty I could hardly breathe.

  Nothing seemed the same anymore. Food, when I could stomach getting anything down, had lost its appeal. My job that I loved seemed daunting. I didn’t want to see a soul, not even my sisters or grandparents. I felt as if I had nothing to offer anyone. And I was tired of people telling me that I would be okay. That we could have another baby. I didn’t want another baby—I wanted my baby. My baby who I was willing to live through hell and take on John and Edward for, if I had to. The baby I was willing to lose it all for. And now I had.

  I curled up in my bed and closed my eyes, begging for sleep. It was the only reprieve I had from the loss and emptiness. After lying in bed for a few days, only getting up when I absolutely had to, I was still more exhausted than I had ever felt. Sleep came more and more easily. I let it consume me.

  I only woke up because someone had the audacity to turn on my light. My eyes burned from it since I had been keeping my room as dark as possible. Even during the day, I’d been shading the windows with blankets. The light made me feel exposed. Like all my emotions might explode out of me. I wanted to keep them bottled up and hidden from the world, even myself. They were too much to bear.

  When I was able to open my eyes against the stinging light, I thought at first I had double vision; then I realized it was Brock and Brant. Two-thirds of the Three Musketeers. Two of my best friends who I had turned into enemies. Another failure in the flesh, coming to taunt me.

  I pulled the covers over my head. “Go away,” I pleaded.

  They didn’t listen.

  I heard footsteps cross the creaky floor before someone landed on my bed. A strong hand rested on top of me. “Dani, I’m so sorry,” Brant cried. “I would have come sooner, but . . . well, it doesn’t matter. I should have come. You shouldn’t have been alone. I should have taken care of you and our baby,” he choked out so emotionally.

  Our baby. Those words rang beautiful. I so desperately wanted someone to share my baby with. I wrapped my arms around my empty womb. “I’m so sorry I lost our baby.” The tears flowed.

  Brant peeled back my covers. His wet eyes were filled with tenderness and loss. The same loss I felt in the depths of my soul. He gently wiped away my tears. “You can’t blame yourself. This wasn’t your fault.”

  “Maybe it was. Maybe I did something wrong. Or it’s my punishment for what we did.”

  Brant easily lifted me, took me in his arms, and held me against his chest. There was nothing romantic about it. It was as if he were trying to save me from myself. I clung to him, soaking his dress shirt like I had the night where it had all gone wrong. And just like that night, I wanted him to take away the sting of death.

  “Dani.” He stroked my unwashed and unkempt hair. “You are not being punished. You did nothing wrong. If anyone did, it was me. I knew it wasn’t me you wanted that night. You wanted Brock, and I reasoned I could give you a part of him. And . . .” He paused. “I wanted to be with someone I loved one more time before . . . well . . . before I would never have the chance to again.”

  I wondered what Brock made of that, even though I knew the kind of love Brant was talking about wasn’t the romantic kind. It was the safe, friendly, enduring kind. To know that was why he wanted me that night broke my heart even more for him. He knew he was facing a lifetime of misery. I sat up and touched his cleanly shaven cheeks. Even though he and Brock were identical twins, their countenances were different. Brant’s had always been more lighthearted and mischievous, until this past year. Now he wore an expression of stoicism and regret. A sentenced man. His punishment was to live life with a woman he didn’t love.

  He held my hand against his cheek. “Dani, I’m sorry I hurt you. All of us.” He turned toward his brother. “Brock, I do love Dani, but it’s not like you think, nor is it like the love you have for her. I never wanted to stand in the way of you two, and I’m sorry that I have. I’m sorry for all of it.” This time he fell into my arms. It was my turn to comfort him.

  I stared at Brock while I held his brother, who was still murmuring his apologies.

  Brock was leaning against the closed door, his eyes fixed on us, but there was no ire in them. In fact, he wore a similar look to Brant’s. One that spoke of regret. Did he regret me? Did it matter? I knew we were over, and that played a part in the unfillable void that had enveloped me. Brock didn’t say a word. Didn’t step closer. Just carefully watched.

  After a few moments, Brant leaned away and captured my attention. “Dani, I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you from my father and Edward.” The color drained from his face when he mentioned his future father-in-law. “I had no idea our father had threatened you.”

  “What hold does Edward have on your dad?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Dad said the less I know, the better. But it’s enough.”

  His words sent a chill down my spine. “Enough what?”

  “Enough for me to . . .” He couldn’t or wouldn’t finish his thought.

  “Enough for you to marry Jill?”

  He gave me a sad smile. “Don’t worry about me, Dani. You heal.”

  Heal? “I don’t know if that’s possible.”

  He took my hand and squeezed it. “I’ve never known anyone stronger than you. You’ve beaten incredible odds in your life. You’ll beat this too.” He tilted his head. “You don’t have to do it alone, though.”

  I looked up to the steel beam ceiling. “I am alone,” I stammered.

  “No you’re not,” Brock and Brant spoke in unison.

  I looked between the men. My men, as I used to refer to them. It was all so screwed up now.

  Brock took a step closer but maintained his distance. I think I frightened him. Or perhaps it was my unpleasant aroma.

  Brant, on the other hand, drew me in for a long hug. “I’m here for you,” he whispered in my ear.

  I sank against him. “I won’t put you in danger.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Don’t worry about me.”

  I could hear the trepidation in his voice. It was enough to put the fear of God in
me. “I am worried about you. I will keep our secret.” My silence was all I had to offer him.

  He pulled back, and relief and sorrow washed over his face. “Dani, I don’t expect you to. I . . . I wouldn’t ask for myself, but for your protection and for . . .”

  “Jill?” I rankled.

  “No. Someone much more precious to me.”

  My eyes widened. “Kinsley,” I whispered.

  He kissed my cheek without a word, giving me all the answer I needed. He stood and peered down at me. “I am sorry, Dani. If you need me, I will walk through whatever hell I have to, to be there for you. Just say the word.”

  That meant more to me than he would ever know. But . . . “I won’t let you suffer because of me.”

  “I’m afraid suffering is inevitable, but it will never be because of you.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure. I seem to have a knack for it,” my voice cracked. I didn’t dare look at Brock, but from the corner of my eye I could tell he’d moved closer to the bed.

  Brant tipped my chin up with his finger, making sure his eyes could penetrate my own. “The only suffering you’ve ever caused is from you being so damn irresistible.” He smiled. “But it’s the best suffering any of us who are lucky enough to know you have ever endured.”

  My lip twitched.

  “I can’t wait for the day we all get to see you really smile again. It’s been far too long.”

  “The same could be said for you.”

  His finger dropped and he shrugged. “At least I knew what I was signing up for.”

  “Did you really?”

  “You should get some rest.” He was quick to change the subject.

  I nodded, even though I had probably had too much rest. Still, I was tired. So tired.

  Brant kissed the top of my head. “I’ll see you later. Call me if you need me.”

  I tugged the covers back up and leaned against my headboard. Brock’s gaze was fixed on me. I wondered why he had come in. Was he worried Brant and I would do something stupid? Or was he just worried? Whatever it was, it was unnerving the way his eyes seemed to go through me. I pulled my knees up to my chest. His mouth opened, and I waited anxiously for him to say some magic words that would make it all better. The words didn’t come, but when Brant walked past him, Brock reached out and drew his brother into an embrace.

  Brant immediately threw his arms around his brother—his best friend and confidant.

  I watched the brothers hold on to each other, tears streaming down my cheeks. It was raw and beautiful. A step toward reconciliation for the two. If there ever was a chance to tangibly touch love, this was it.

  After several moments, Brock spoke the magic words. “I love you, brother. I am sorry.”

  I placed my hand over my mouth, completely overcome.

  Brant must have felt those same overwhelming feelings. He could barely choke out, “I’ve missed you.”

  “We need to change that,” Brock responded to Brant before he zeroed in on me. “I need to make several changes.”

  I bit my lip. I knew that look. And I wasn’t sure my heart could take it. I didn’t want him to fight for me. Not now. Not after I had given up and had nothing to offer. Didn’t he see it was impossible? We’d missed our chance. We were too broken. And I wasn’t sure a tool existed that could fix how dead I felt inside or how much we had hurt each other.

  “I love you,” Brock mouthed.

  For the first time, I believed him.

  But it was too late.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Wake up, sunshine.” Grandma’s cheery voice hit me like a sledgehammer against my head. What was worse, she tore down the blankets I’d hung up to cover the windows and threw open the shades. She was evil.

  I burrowed under the covers, refusing to let the light blind me, or worse, make me feel the slightest bit of the sun’s warmth. Unfairly, Grandma had brought her minions with her—Ariana and Kinsley. They ripped off my blankets and tossed them far from my reach before plopping on my bed. I scrambled for my pillow before they took that, too, and used it to cover my face and shield me from their presence. Unfortunately, the three of them were stronger than me. Lying in bed for days hadn’t done my muscles any good.

  With nothing left to hide behind, I was forced to acknowledge their existence, my existence.

  Grandma sat on the edge of my bed and caressed my cheek. “Enough, Dani. You can’t live like this forever.”

  “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  Grandma chuckled. “You still have some sass; that’s a good thing. Now get up.”

  I buried my head in the mattress. “I don’t want to. I’m tired.”

  “Of course you are. You’ve been lying in this bed for a week.”

  Ariana picked up my mop of hair and let it drop. “I think we could grease all of Kinsley’s bread pans with your hair.”

  Everyone snickered, even me.

  “Help yourself,” I quipped.

  “We’re only here to help you.” Grandma kept it real.

  “Well . . . and me,” Kinsley added. “You and Brock are kind of putting a damper on my love life, and . . . I hate to say it, but you stink.”

  I pulled out my shirt and took a whiff of myself. I reeked so bad it made me cough. I rolled over and faced them all surrounding me like they were getting ready to either sacrifice me or save me. Hopefully the latter.

  I was met by three pairs of anxious eyes, blinking in disbelief at my state. They all smelled and looked too good to be in my presence.

  Grandma took my hand and held it tight. “Honey, you aren’t the first woman to lose her baby. Unfortunately, you won’t be the last. Sooner or later you are going to have to cope with the loss and, as hard as it is, accept it. Your baby wouldn’t want this for you.”

  Tears leaked out of my eyes. “My baby didn’t even get a chance to live.”

  “That is a tragic shame,” Grandma’s voice shook, “but it doesn’t mean you should stop living. Look around you. Look at the people who love you, who you have touched. Read the cards from your students—all the children whose lives you’ve made better because you mothered them when they needed you the most. Dani, you lost your baby, but think of what the children who look to you for help would lose if you gave up. You’ve been a mother already to many. And you will continue to be, if you choose it.”

  I dared to look around the room at all the flowers and cards that had been sent to me. They’d come in a variety of colors and sizes. From large rose bouquets to simple carnation arrangements. Even the cards that were stacked on my nightstand varied greatly. Kinsley had hung up some of the pictures several children had drawn me. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge them, since I felt so undeserving. I hadn’t just lost my baby—I had lost my way and done things I wasn’t proud of. Honestly, I hadn’t wanted to feel good about myself. It was easier to feel dead inside.

  One of the pictures struck me. It was of me and Amelia Anne holding a baby boy. I knew exactly who it was from because last year all Amelia Anne wanted for Christmas was to see her baby brother who had been born while their mother was incarcerated. The baby had gone to a different family than Amelia’s. I’d arranged for a special meeting between the two families. When we’d placed that baby in Amelia’s arms, she’d cried and smothered him in kisses. She kept saying, “I’m so happy. I’m so happy.” It was the most precious scene of my life. I had worked this past year to make sure Amelia and her brother were adopted by the same family, and miracle upon miracle, they were last month. On the bottom of the picture, Amelia had written the same thing she’d said last Christmas: I’m so happy.

  I wanted to be happy again.

  I wiped my eyes and sniffled.

  “What do you need from us?” Ariana asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe we could start with a shower,” Kinsley suggested with a smile.

  I softly laughed. “That would probably be a good idea.”

  “While you’re at it, you nee
d to talk to your husband,” Grandma more than suggested.

  “He’s not really my husband,” I whispered through the ache.

  “Please.” Ariana waved her hand. “I don’t care what you say. He didn’t marry you because you were pregnant. The man was a mess when he couldn’t get ahold of you last week. He was desperate to find you. He called all of us, and then, when we couldn’t find you, he almost called the police. Do you know how many times we’ve caught him sitting outside your door this past week, listening for any sign that you needed him?”

  I shook my head. I had no idea.

  “You should have seen him in the hospital waiting room while you were in surgery,” Kinsley added to the commentary. “He kept saying he would never forgive himself if something happened to you. He wanted us all to know how much he loves you.”

  That was all well and good, but they had no idea about the lie we had been living. The tangled web we were trapped in. They couldn’t know about the baby and Brant.

  “And,” Kinsley continued, “he’s been camping out in the living room for days now. Which is sweet but kind of hard to bring your date home to. I don’t think Brock likes Tristan all that much.”

  I didn’t think that was it. I think it was that he knew how Brant truly felt about Kinsley. Despite that, I was happy for my sister. Happy? What a novel concept. Yet, I was happy for her. “Ah, Kins, I’m sorry if we ruined your time with Tristan before he flew back to England.”

  She gave me a coy smile. “We found other ways to have alone time.” She blushed. “Besides, he’s coming back next month for Thanksgiving. He wants to see what the fuss is about our American holiday.”

  “I think he just wants to see you again,” Ariana wisely stated.

  “I think so too.” Kinsley twirled her beautiful blonde hair. She was absolutely radiant. It eased some of my guilt.

  “Let’s get you out of bed and into the shower.” Grandma was a woman of action.