by Tessa Teevan
“Amelia, you don’t have to do this alone.” I shake my head. “No, you’re not doing this alone. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Ever again.”
Tired, green eyes stare back into my own defiant ones. “It’s a nice sentiment, Knox. It really is. But you don’t have to do this, either. You don’t have to stay. I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to. It’s not the fifties. No one’s holding a shotgun to your head. And you’re probably not thinking straight after getting the shock of a lifetime.”
“I’m not leaving, Amelia. I’m never leaving you or him.”
“Knox.” Her voice is a soft whisper of protest that I’m dying to drown out. “Your life is in Nashville. Not here. Not with us.”
“He’s my son. My life is where he is.” The conviction in my head and my heart doesn’t even surprise me. It’s a no-brainer. I should’ve stayed before. Or demanded Amelia come with me. Now that there’s both of them to consider, I’ll stay here forever if I have to. My future’s irrevocably changed and I don’t give a damn. I reaffirm my stance. “He’s my son.”
Three simple words I never expected to utter so soon in my life and one sentiment that makes my heart swell three times its size.
“And me?” she whispers. “What am I?”
I can’t believe she has the audacity to ask. But then I have to remind myself that I walked away. That she let me. That this is something neither of us dreamed up, yet now that it’s reality, I can’t imagine anything more. She has no idea I’ve been replaying every moment of our summer together since the night I left.
“You’re all you’ve ever been since the moment I first laid eyes on that pretty scowl and perfect tits.”
Her eyes flash, but she remains silent.
“What are you, Amelia? You’re fucking mine.”
“You’re wrong,” she snaps, eliciting a possessive growl from me. “I was yours once, Knox. You let me go and didn’t look back.
If it weren’t for the bundle in my arms, I’d fling my arms wide. “I didn’t look back because I didn’t have to! You were all I ever saw. In front of, behind, beside, on top of, beneath me. You were always there, even when my eyes were closed.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to drill into her by any means necessary that it wasn’t so cut and dried. But she’s just had my son, and the last thing I want to do is push her away before I win her back again.
“You’re right. It wasn’t just you. We let go. I thought I was strong enough to handle it. Now? I don’t even know what I am or what I’m doing.”
I sigh, running a hand through my hair, trying to decide if I want to scream or curse more. The baby in my arms chooses this moment to coo in his sleep, and I smile instead of doing either. The little guy’s already playing peacekeeper between us.
Amelia’s watching us closely. I can tell she’s trying not to smile and not as angry as she may seem. So I switch tactics.
“Amelia, why don’t you take a moment and ask yourself why I’m here?”
If I were a crying man, I might break down in tears the moment realization crosses her features.
“Yeah, she finally gets it.”
Wide eyes meet mine and I nod.
“Baby, you were the siren song callin’ me back here. It just took a while for my sails to change course.”
There’s a brief twinkling in her eyes. Then she lifts her chin. “Considering the mythology of sirens, weren’t you afraid of sailing to your doom?”
I shake my head and readjust the baby in my arms. “Never. I’ll do whatever it takes to be with you, even if it means being lost at sea. I’d die for you. And now that I have a son, I’d die for him.”
“I know you would,” she whispers. “Family means everything to you. But, Knox, just because you know about Branson doesn’t mean you have to pretend to want me.”
God, she’s so infuriatingly stubborn.
“Amelia, when I left Nashville and drove to Crystal Cove today, I had no idea about the baby. I came back here for you.”
Knox’s intense gazes penetrates my heart, my brain, and my fricking lady parts, which have no business being electrified right now. Just looking at the bundle in his arms is enough to make me melt like butter in the hottest cast iron pan. Him talking all sweet? Nope, my heart can’t take it.
There should be an unwritten rule that, after a woman has a baby, men aren’t allowed to make romantic declarations. Scratch that. It should be written on the entrance of every maternity ward and repeated on each delivery room door. Hell, make the men sign waivers. “I, insert name here, will not wreck my wife’s”—or, in my case, baby momma’s—“hormones or take advantage of her out-of-the-ordinary state of mind by deciding to be sweet at the most inopportune time.”
Of course, since Knox barged in here after the fact, such a form wouldn’t have been useful for me anyways.
I want to pinch myself. I still can’t believe he’s truly here. With the whirlwind of Branson’s birth and subsequent shock of the art of breastfeeding, I almost thought I was hallucinating him through my exhaustion. Eight months I’ve pined for him. Eight months I’ve yearned for him. Eight months of my body changing, my life changing, and he had no idea. Seven months, once I found out about the baby, of me alternating between cursing him and loving him wholeheartedly.
The first time Branson was placed in my arms, love won out over anger.
With one look at Knox holding Branson in one arm, using his other hand to rub circles on my wrist, I’m falling for him all over again. As much as I want to hold him at arm’s length, I want to let him back in even more. Heck, if I’m honest with myself, I’d admit I can’t let him back into a place he’s inhabited since the first night we met. But I can’t admit that. Not yet. It’s too soon. It’s too simple.
He showed up here for me. I believe him because, well, why else would he be here, especially if he never got my letter? Yet I need to know this is going to stick. For my sake, and for Branson’s, I need to know that this isn’t a fluke. That, when reality sets in and he’s hard at work, rising in the ranks at his dad’s company, he’s not going to forget us or leave us behind.
As much as it kills me, I just can’t do it. Not yet.
I love Knox. I think giving birth to his son amplified that, something I didn’t know was possible.
I just don’t know if it’s enough.
DEAFENING SILENCE FILLS THE AIR on the drive home from the hospital. Amelia watches over Branson in the back seat, and I find myself glancing at the rearview mirror more times than I can count.
I’m not thrilled to see the crowd awaiting us, but Amelia seems pleased at the welcoming committee. Or perhaps she’s just happy to be away from me.
She peers out of the windshield to where Sunny, Joe, Sam, and Mrs. Mayfield are gathered on the porch. I’m surprised I can even recognize them with the amount of balloons, gift bags, and wrapped presents surrounding them.
Tears are already streaming as she gets out of the car and waves to her friends. She’s moving to the back passenger’s door to get the baby when I grasp her wrist.
“Hey.”
She stops, peering up at me.
“I’ve got him. Go be with your friends. I’m sure they’re eager to see you.”
Her laughter echoes. God. It’s been so long since I’ve heard that sound. I want to close my eyes and savor it.
“Pretty sure they’re eager to see the baby,” she says.
“Either way, you don’t need to be carrying all that weight. Go settle and I’ll be right in.”
She hesitates, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, unsure if she should trust me with him. The idea that I could hurt to our son is unfathomable, and I thought Amelia knew me better than it.
I get it. She’s a new mom.
But he’s my son. I’d die before allowing any harm to come to him. I’d do the same for her.
“Amelia. I’ve got him. I always will. Now, go.”
I lean into the back seat, coming face-to-face with Brans
on. I study his features, searching for any sign of me. Any sign of Amelia. His eyes already have a deep-brown color, but the rest? Well, he’s two days old, so I guess we’re going to just have to wait a bit to know who he takes after.
“If you’re lucky, buddy, it’ll be your momma.”
He blinks, continuing to stare at me. Probably like I’d do if someone walked up to me and started speaking Russian.
“You and me? We’re in this together. We’re gonna make your momma so happy she won’t know what hit her.”
Another blink.
Who knew blinking babies could be so damn endearing?
“Well, you’ve got a few people in there who are eager to meet you, buddy. Mrs. Mayfield doesn’t like me much. That’s okay though. I think you just may help out with that. Joe’s solid, a stand-up guy who doesn’t talk too much and plays a mean game of pool. I’d keep you from Sunny and Sam as long as I could…if I could. They’re wacky but good people.”
I’m barely onto the porch with the car seat when four bodies crowd in close, all wanting to get a look at him.
Huddling Branson behind me, I whisper in exasperation, “Back the hell off or the baby’s going back in the car.”
As quickly as they came in like vultures, they back away. Joe’s grinning at me, his knowing smile a welcome presence. Mrs. Mayfield also smiles at me, which is a bit odd.
“Knox is right,” she says. “We musn’t startle the baby.”
“Let’s settle in the living room,” Amelia suggests, and they all follow into the house after her.
To Branson, whose eyelids are already drooping, I mutter, “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let them hog you for long.”
I swear he smiles at me, but do two-day-olds smile? I’m probably just imagining it. Not surprising seeing as I’ve gotten about three hours of sleep since I left Nashville.
I’m reluctant to hand the baby over when I enter the living room, but since Mrs. Mayfield did me a solid, I place him in her arms.
Figuring this is the best time to make my move, I head towards the door. But then Amelia calls out to me.
“Where are you going? Didn’t you already bring everything inside?”
“Not quite.”
Her brow furrows. I don’t explain. She’ll understand soon enough.
She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s not rid of me. Not by a longshot. And I make that clear when I head out to my car, grab my luggage, and bring it inside.
The welcoming party continues as I pass by Amelia, whose eyes narrow in my direction. I can practically feel her fury radiating at my back, and I’m not surprised she’s following me into her room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she hisses, her tone rigid.
My eyes dart past her. “You sure you wanna do this with an audience?”
She pushes into the room and silently closes the door. We’re nearly chest-to-chest, with just enough space between us for her to poke me.
“I asked you a question. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I move away from her, giving her some space. Do I want Amelia to attack me, climb me like I’m a fucking tree? Hell yeah. Do I want it while her claws are out? Well, actually, yeah, I do. But do I want her doing it when she’s a couple days postpartum?
Hell fucking no.
“I’m movin’ in,” I tell her as nonchalantly as possible, all while bracing myself for the impact of her inevitable rage.
“Excuse me? No freaking way. Thank you for the ride home. Now, get the hell out of my house and out of my life.”
Her animosity stirs my own temper, which I think was her intent. “You got rid of me once before. Never again.” I point towards the living room. “Babe, that little bundle of unexpected joy out there is half mine. My son. If you think I’m fucking going anywhere, you’ve lost your damn mind. Try and get rid of me. I dare you. You won’t like the result.”
Dark eyes flash with fury. “Who are you? You weren’t like this last summer. If you think I’m going to let some overbearing asshole manhandle his way into my home, you have another thing coming, buddy.”
“Did the pregnancy cause amnesia?” Her eyes flash with anger, but I don’t give a damn right now. “Because from what I recall, you didn’t mind me overbearing or manhandling last summer. Don’t go changing history.”
She huffs, folding her arms across her chest. “Don’t you have a completely different future you need to get back to? Just because mine’s changed doesn’t mean yours has to. Trust me, we’ll be fine here without you.”
Oh, for fucks sake. Screw space. If Amelia needs to attack, I’ll take my licks.
I cross the room and kneel before her. However, she won’t even meet my eyes. God, I knew I’d have my work cut out for me, but damn. She’s got her shit locked up tight and I have no idea if I’ll be able to get back in. But I won’t give up until I do.
“Amelia, look at me.”
Her jaw’s tight, and she defies me. Still fucking cute.
“Please,” I say when really I want to order, Now.
She swallows hard but eventually gives in. Dark circles ring her eyes, and I vow to make this transition as easy on her as possible.
“Who I am is a desperate man with a woman and a son to protect. To care for. I don’t care about my shit at home. What I care about is the two of you. So I’m gonna stay here for as long as it takes. You can’t say your future has changed and mine hasn’t. That’s fucking bullshit and you know it. You’re my future. Our son is my future. Get used to it, sweetheart.”
Okay, I could use a little more tact, but I’m too fucking irritated to rein it in anymore.
“You can’t just decide you’re moving in. Don’t I have a say?”
“No,” I growl, and just as she’s about to protest, I cover her mouth with my hand. “Just fucking hear me out, Melia.”
She sets her chin and pushes my hand away but doesn’t make a peep.
“He’s my son. And you’re my woman. I’m not staying with you because of the baby. I came back because I can’t live without you. He’s just bonus. You’ve gotta get that through your thick head, babe.”
“I’m sorry, Knox. I don’t believe you,” she says, her voice breaking enough to tell me she’s lying—either to herself or me, but it doesn’t matter.
I want to groan. I thought I’d gotten through to her last night; clearly a restful night of sleep didn’t do the wonders for her mental clarity that I hoped it would.
“Yes, you do,” I insist. “You’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”
Her eyes flash. It’s a mixture of irritation, surprise, and bewilderment. As if she thought I’d just let them go. As if she can’t believe I want to stay. As if she’s damn pissed I called her out, because as much as she wants to not believe me, she knows me better. She knows I’m right and it angers the hells out of her.
Scares the hell out of her.
“It’s fucking true, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you. Amelia, I did the one thing that I made you promise not to do. I should’ve said it before. I lo—”
This time, it’s Amelia’s hand that covers my mouth, drowning out the declaration that’s been in my heart for nearly the past year.
“No. I don’t want to hear it. Not now. Too much has happened. You’re not thinking straight. You’re just shell-shocked about the baby.”
I grip her wrist and brush her hand away from my face. My eyes bore into hers, as if a stare-down may get her to listen to a damn word I’m saying. “I’m not shell-shocked. Maybe I didn’t plan on bein’ a dad so young, but he’s here and I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m pleased as hell. I love him already, just like I—”
I stop at the panicked expression on her face.
I rest back on my heels, muttering a curse beneath my breath. “Fine. I won’t repeat it until you’re ready.”
Weary green eyes meet mine. “And what if I never am?”
“Don’t care. I’ll wait as long as it takes.�
��
“Knox—”
“You may not think it’s possible, sweetheart, but I know us. I believe in us. There’s been a damn hole in my heart where you should’ve been. I don’t want to be intersecting lines anymore. I want to be an endless loop, not knowing where I end and you begin. You wrapped around my heart, ensnared it completely.” I search her eyes for something. Anything. Lightning flashes, illuminating the room, and she’s so exhausted that she doesn’t even seem to register the storm that’s now raging outside. Hell, I wonder if she even fathoms the one raging within me. “We can weather anything, Amelia. No matter how fierce the storm. How high the tide. How crazy all of this seems. Through the ups, the downs, the highs, and the lows—we’ll get through it the best way we can.”
“How’s that?”
“Together.”
A lone tear spills out and streams down onto her cheek. She goes to push it away, but I grasp her wrist in my hand. I can’t begin to imagine how she’s feeling right now. A multitude of emotion emanate on her face ranging from shock to worry and there’s a brief flash of hope and relief I have to capitalize on.
With my thumb, I wipe it away. “As much as I wish I could, I can’t change the fact that I left last summer. I wish to hell I could. But I’m here now and I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. And remember this, Amelia, when you’re condemning me in your head. I may have left, but you let me go. It’s a two-way street, babe.”
“You don’t have to sweet-talk me because of the baby, Knox.”
It’s as if she didn’t hear a word I just said. I want to scream at her. I want to shake her.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering how long I’m going to be on this damn merry-go-round. “You’ve said that before, and feel free to become a broken record. I told you I came back for you. I told you I wasn’t leaving multiple times. That hasn’t changed. That isn’t going to change, so you might as well get used to having me around. I want to be with you. Every night. Every morning. All the time in between. I was a coward last year. I’m not anymore. And I know you’re not ready. I’ll wait until you are. But I’m waitin’ by your side.”