“You will not think about getting rid of our baby Addy, I won’t allow it,” he growled, his voice laced with fury and panic.
“What … no, of course not … Marshall, that never even entered my mind,” I told him, stunned by his wrong conclusion and the ferocity behind his command.
I looked up into his handsome but ravaged face and a bout of tenderness ran through me. Even mad, I couldn’t let him think that this baby wasn’t dearly wanted and loved.
Reaching up to cup his hair covered face, I forced him to look at me.
“Hey, despite how this happened, I want this baby, Marshall. Am I shit scared of being a single parent, yes, I definitely am. As a product of the foster system, I know basically nothing about parenting or how a loving family looks. But I meant what I said when I called this miraculous, and if you want to be a part of it, that would be great.” I smiled at him, trying to convey in one smile that I wasn’t going to do anything but love this child. How could I tell him that finally I would have someone that would love and depend on me? Someone to call mine, to make the centre of my world and be the centre of their world too.
To be important for the first time in my life.
Marshall dropped his forehead to mine and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“I will be part of this; we both will because we are getting married as soon as possible. I will make a call and see if Ford can speed up the process.”
I dropped my hand from his face and took a step back from him.
“Married? Are you insane!” I gasped, stupefied by his announcement.
I wanted a baby sure, and I wasn’t opposed to the idea of loving a man enough to marry, but Marshall didn’t love me, obligated because he knocked me up yes, but love?
“We are not getting married because I am pregnant, Marshall,” I stormed at him, moving to stand on the other side of the stainless-steel table, eager to put some distance between us before I did something stupid and accepted his proposal.
“Yes, we are.”
“No, we are not.”
“Addy,” Marshall growled, putting his hands on the table and leaned closer to me.
Mimicking his posture, I growled back, “No.”
“Jesus Christ,” he clipped, dropping his head down to his chest.
“Getting married is not the answer here; I don’t even know your last name for cripe’s sake.”
“Webber, Marshall Webber.”
I smiled and held out my hand to him. “Nice to meet you, Marshall Webber, I’m Adeline Welham,” I formally introduced myself, grinning at him when he shook his head then placed his hand in mine.
“Like wise, now we can get married.” He smirked, and I knew instantly that this man was going to be a difficult but sexy problem.
“Ah, no, we can’t,” I said again, then walked to my desk and grabbed a pen. “Here, take this.” Jotting down my home address on a piece of paper, I walked back and handed it to him.
“I have to finish my appointments, but come to my place tonight for dinner and we can talk about … everything. I have had twenty weeks to come to terms with this, take a few hours for yourself. Trust me; I know how mind-blowing it is.”
Holding out the small square of paper, I waited for him to take it.
“And you won’t disappear again? You will be there?” he asked, looking down at the paper, still not taking it.
Shame filled me almost immediately. I couldn’t blame him for being wary of my intentions, after all I had been the one to sneak out before the crack of dawn leaving him in bed and alone.
“I promise. That is the address of my home, I won’t disappear again,” I promised, meeting his gaze head on.
“Okay, is six alright with you?” he asked, taking the piece of paper from me, his fingers brushing over mine, sending shivers of memories of what those strong fingers did to me that wonderful night.
Ducking my head to hide my reaction from his brief touch, I cleared my throat and quickly changed the subject.
“Perfect, bring your appetite. Sproggo loves to eat,” I joked, then laughed when his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.
“Sproggo?”
“I like the movie Mad Max, he called his son in the movie Sproggo. I started calling him that and it has kind of stuck.” I shrugged.
“Him? It’s a boy?” Marshall croaked, his hand going to my belly. Warmth invaded me the second his hand covered my bump. Without permission my eyes dropped to look at his hand and tears instantly threatened behind my eyelids.
Oh, my god.
Tenderness oozed from Marshall, and I could have easily allowed myself to believe it was for me as well as for the baby. Believe that he wanted me too, but I knew differently. He had already told me relationships and his line of work couldn’t mix, and I was far too screwed up from years of neglect to begin to know how to be a part of one.
Steeling myself, I patted his hand then slipped away from him.
“No, I have an ultrasound next week. They should be able to tell me the gender then if I want. Would you … would you like to go with me?” I asked hesitantly, deciding to show him that I wanted him to be part of our baby’s life. We might as well start this off the right way rather than be at odds for the next twenty weeks.
“Yes.” One word but spoken with so much conviction and determination, I couldn’t help smile shyly at him.
“Okay, good, well, we can talk about that at dinner too.” Leading the way to the door, praying he would follow, I opened it and stood there. Marshall stood by the exam table, his hand still out in front of him. His eyes narrowed at me for a moment, staring at me until I felt myself squirm under his intent scrutiny.
“Okay, Sweet Cheeks. We do this your way,” Marshall finally agreed, then slowly moved towards me, but instead of leaving like I wanted, he crowded in close to me again, one hand went to my belly and one cupped my face. Dropping his head, Marshall pressed his lips to my forehead, his lips soft and warm against my skin.
Tightening my fist against my thighs, I willed them not to reached out and haul his mouth to mine, my resolve dwindling with each second he stayed.
Closing my eyes, I enjoyed the show of tenderness from this strong, tough soldier, then opened them when I felt his hand move to my chin and lift my face.
Eyes the colour of melted chocolate held me captive; determination swam in them.
“For now,” he allowed, then without another word, he left.
Closing the door quietly, I leaned against it and let out a sob.
“Oh Lord, how am I going to survive this.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRILL
The drive back to the compound went by in a blur. The traffic lights and stop signs, I saw nothing of only Addy standing there with her hands on her belly.
I was going to be a father.
Goddamn, I was going to be a father.
What the hell direction did I take now? I meant it when I offered marriage to Addy, not a spur of the moment thing. She had been wrong when she said I needed time to get used to the idea like she’d had. Only thing was I knew it somehow, for the last twenty weeks I knew that Addy was carrying my child. Somehow, I just knew, seeing her belly today didn’t freak me out as it probably should have.
I mean we had a one-night stand, we didn’t even tell each other our last names, hell I never told her that I went by Grill, not Marshall. Though, I had to admit I liked her using my given name. For the last eight years, no one called me by that except for Faye.
I had no memory of my mother using my name; I’m sure she did in the six years before her death, I just couldn’t remember any occasion.
Glancing at my watch, I noted how long I had before I needed to leave for Addy’s, seeing I had more than enough time for a workout in the ring, then a shave. I didn’t miss the way Addy scrunched up her nose at my full beard, not that I blamed her. I looked like a homeless man when I got back from deployment. Gabe shaved the minute he returned, either before or after our ritual meeting in t
he war room, to discuss with the original members what we saw and what we did. The Souls were the only men outside of the uniform we shared those intimate details with, they understood better than anyone, and most importantly, they never judged.
Pulling my Ford ute into the parking space allotted to me at the club, I quickly turned off the engine and jumped out. I needed to get a new car, I wasn’t aware yet of what kind of vehicle Addy drove, but I couldn’t take her car and leave her stranded and putting a baby capsule in a ute was definitely out. I suppose we could always swap cars whenever I needed to take the baby anywhere. Thoughts and plans played around in my head as I headed across the quadrangle to the huge front doors of the club.
“Yo, Grill,” Booth shouted, just as I got to the doors, turning my head I looked over and saw the former Souls president sitting at one of the picnic tables. Changing my direction, I walked over to where he was.
“Sir,” I greeted him respectfully.
“Can’t take the soldier out, hey,” Booth observed with a knowing smirk.
“No sir, and have no intention of doing so,” I answered him honestly.
“You found your girl?”
“I did, thank you for that, Booth. I spent weeks and weeks making phone calls coming up with nothing and you find her just from being observant.”
Booth looked up at me, then over towards the garden where his wife was in the process of pulling weeds.
“Observing is what I do best, my speciality. Like yours is patience, a sniper must excel in it. It isn’t enough to be a good shot; the ability to wait and let the target come to you is where the specialty lies.” Without looking at me, Booth got up, patted me on the shoulder and walked towards his wife, leaving me with the feeling I was just given advice from a father. Not that I knew anything about having a father, mine died before I was even born. Leaving my mother alone and pregnant to live the life of a single mother. One she failed at miserably.
Staring at the man I admired more and more; I shook my head ruefully.
“I can be patient, Sweet Cheeks; I can be very patient.”
***
Quarter to six that night, I was sitting in my car out the front of Addy’s house, waiting for her to get home. There was no car in the driveway so I figured she was still at the clinic finishing up, plus I was a little early; however, I did figure she would be here by now; after all, she did say we were having dinner. Maybe she was expecting me to help her cook. That thought appealed to me, and I liked to cook and was pretty fucking good at it. Growing up with Faye, I learned to cook from her; she wasn’t one to serve on me. Oh, she loved me and saw to my care and needs, but she proclaimed she wasn’t going to raise a helpless male. I had chores, learned how to use a washing machine and knew my way around an iron. Faye made sure I could look after myself, preparing me for any future relationships without me even knowing it at the time.
Powering down the window, I cast my eye over Addy’s place. The house was a typical Australian miner’s cottage, small but long in length. A front porch with cast iron lattice support and on either side of the blue front door sat two old rocking chairs. Why were there two of them? Did she live with someone, a roommate, perhaps? My hand fists around the steering wheel as the thought that maybe she had a boyfriend, someone who didn’t mind her carrying another man’s child. Maybe that was why she kept her distance from me at the clinic. Another reason for her obvious nervousness, and why she balked at my offer of marriage.
I wasn’t kidding when I told her I wanted us to get married. Finding out for certain about the baby changed everything for me almost immediately. Seeing Addy’s burgeoning belly cemented my resolve for the last five months that I was going to do this right.
Two parents that are married.
So, if there was some bloke in the picture he was going to find out sooner than later, he was shit out of luck.
There wasn’t going to be a marriage of convenience or arrangement with both us living our own lives. Our night together was no fluke, and neither was the off the charts chemistry between us. No fucking way was our marriage going to be one of convenience, separate rooms and all that shit. Addy felt something for me in those hours we gave each other our bodies, the way she gorged herself on my lips, travelled every inch of my body with her hands. We had something, and I knew it down deep in my soul. Our life was going to be happy, and I was going to die, making sure of that.
My kid was going to have a loving home to grow in, not one shrouded in grief and despair.
My baby and my woman.
Glancing at my watch, I saw that fifteen minutes had already passed and there was no sign of Addy. It wasn’t late, but dusk was setting in, I didn’t like her locking up the clinic this late. Summer was ending, so the daylight was getting shorter, I needed to take a better look at the outdoor lighting at the clinic; see what kind of surveillance she had then talk to Ford about tapping into it. I wanted eyes on her while I was away on deployments.
“Where the hell are you, Sweet Cheeks?” I asked out loud, just as a figure came walking up the street. Even in the fading light, I could make out the sexy body, the hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end, not from lust but anger.
Quickly releasing my seat belt, I threw open the car door and jumped out, heading straight for Addy. As I got closer, I could see she was carrying a takeaway bag in one hand, and in the other arm, she had a stack of manilla envelopes.
“Fucking Christ,” I clipped, stalking faster to her, doing my best to reign in my temper. Addy and I didn’t know each other on any other level than in bed so far, going alpha postal on her on the first day I found her again wasn’t going to get me any brownie points.
Addy’s wide happy smile calmed a little of my fury at seeing her walking home loaded down with extra weight she didn’t need to be carrying.
Fuck, she was so goddamned beautiful.
“Hey, you! Sorry, I am late, I decided— Marshall what’s wrong?” Addy rushed to ask, quickening her pace, but in her haste to get to me, her shoe caught in a crack in the footpath and she lurched forward.
“Shit!” I raced to her, catching her in my arms before she could hit the ground.
“Fuck me, Sweet Cheeks, what the hell are you doing walking. Where the hell is your car?” I asked, with a deep growl, holding her against me, the paperwork and takeaway squashed between us.
“Car? I don’t have a car, Marshall,” Addy answered, looking at my chest. I’d changed out of my uniform from this morning to a pair of well-worn jeans and a dark blue button-down shirt. The top three buttons were undone, showing a decent amount of my chest. Addy’s eyes were glued to my uncovered skin, her mouth open and her pink tongue licking at her bottom lip, taunting me.
“Addy,” I growled, setting her gently away from me, taking the bag out of her hand.
“Huh?”
“Car. Why don’t you have one?” I pressed, bending at the waist, so I was face to face with her. Damn, I loved that she was so short compared to me, I wasn’t exceptionally tall, just a bit over six foot, but Addy was lucky if she was five-foot-three.
“Sweet Cheeks?”
Addy leaned her body into mine, a slow and tired sigh leaving her mouth as she did.
“Marshall, can we do this inside? I am over being on my feet for today, and to be honest, I am starving. I only ate three KitKats today and an orange.”
Instantly, my protective side kicked in along with my pissed off side. Biting the inside of my cheek, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pushed her up the footpath and across her front lawn to the front door.
“Keys, baby,” I prompted, holding my hand out. Switching the folders to her other arm, Addy fished her keys out of her handbag and placed into my hand a ridiculous amount of keys connected with a messy array of keychains. Flamingos, diamantes, a small penlight and even a— mini Swiss Army knife?
“Baby, this is nuts,” I told her holding up the keys, my eyebrows raised in amusement.
“What? I like to bu
y fun key rings,” she answered with a shrug, then put her head back on my shoulder, but not before I caught the faint pink stain on her cheeks. She liked me calling her pet names when I first called her Sweet Cheeks, her breath hitched and the same sexy stain covered her face then too.
“Come on, let’s get you inside and off your feet then fed. The we can—”
“Then you can lecture me about not eating properly, working too hard, oh and walking home from work.” Addy looked up at me, a sassy smile playing on her lips. “Did I forget anything?”
Growling low, I shoved the key into the lock and turned it. “Smart arse,” I mumbled, pushing the door open and guiding her inside.
The minute I walked into Addy’s small house, I instantly got the feeling of comfort. The lounge room was small but filled with comfortable looking furniture, and the walls had framed crafts, hand-stitched tapestries, and pleasant reproductions of landscapes. A mantelpiece over what looked like a working fireplace housed about ten statues: each one was different, but all of them held something in their hands and arms. Bunches of flowers, red hearts, one had a little dog attached to the bottom of it. They seemed to be from a collection, all looked in the same style, but none of them had faces painted or drawn on them.
“The kitchen is through this way,” Addy called out, tossing her bag on one of the lounge chairs, kicking her shoes off, then moaning in appreciation.
“Mmmm, that feels so much better.”
Everything inside me screamed to wrap Addy up in a warm blanket and spend the rest of my life carrying her around, so she never suffered from sore feet ever again. But somehow, I didn’t think Addy would accept that gesture, not yet anyway.
Biting my tongue, stopping the response I wanted to say; instead, I held up my hand to gesture her to lead the way. The smell from the takeaway bags now permeating around me, making my mouth water.
Entering the kitchen, I got the same feeling of a home. Warm yellows and oranges with decorations of red all over the benches and a small, round wooden table with intricately carved legs, it looked to be old and maybe second hand, but well looked after. Again, the walls were adorned with pretty pictures, these ones all of sunsets, and morning landscape scenes. One thing I did notice was there weren’t any framed photographs anywhere, in here or the lounge, nothing depicting Addy in childhood, parents or grandparents, brothers or sisters. Not one.
Grill (The Wounded Sons Book 3) Page 6