Never Enough

by Elliott, Kelly

  “They did. He told her he loved her.”

  Kaylee gasped. “What? What! Why am I just now hearing this?”

  The doctor walked in. I launched into the whole How could I be pregnant? We used birth control! questions. He repeated pretty much what Kaylee and Ty had said.

  After I signed the papers to discharge me, I made my way to Brock’s room. I sat in the chair next to his bed and stared at him.

  I’m pregnant. What are you going to do when you find out, Brock?

  He still had so many demons he needed to work through. We needed to work through together. My head dropped onto my hands, which were holding his. No matter what happened, I wasn’t running. I’d wait for him. For as long as it took.

  I pulled in a deep breath and slowly let it out. There was no denying I was scared shitless . . . for a few reasons. This pregnancy was totally unplanned. I was starting a new career and a new relationship in a new city. Brock spooked easily and was a flight risk. And Blayze . . . how would little Blayze feel about another baby to share his attention with his father?

  My head swirled with all the emotions. Happiness seemed to keep coming up to the surface above all the others, though. Was it wrong for me to feel joy in my heart? I didn’t think so. I’d always known I wanted to be a mom. I’d even dreamed of it with Brock and Blayze that day I stood outside his hotel room.

  Slowing my breathing down, I calmly let it settle in.

  I was pregnant.

  I was having Brock’s baby.

  I was going to be a mother.

  Lifting my head, I felt the tears run down my cheeks as I looked at the man I loved. How could I feel so insanely happy yet scared to death? How would Brock feel when he found out I was pregnant? Happy? Trapped? Spooked?

  I closed my eyes tightly. This was going to change everything. I prayed it would change it for the better.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  BROCK

  The light poured in as I slowly opened my eyes. My head was pounding, and my mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. I attempted to move and quickly stopped when the pain in my ribs stilled me.

  “Shit,” I whispered.

  Soft breathing made me look to my right. Smiling, I gazed down at the woman I loved.

  Lincoln.

  Her cheek was lying on my hand, and she looked uncomfortable. Hell, she was going to have a massive crick in her neck after sleeping like that.

  I lifted my other arm, the one that had an IV attached to it, and gently brushed a piece of her light-brown hair away.

  She whispered my name, and that word felt like it launched right into my body and pierced my heart.

  “Lincoln.”

  She didn’t move.

  I tried to reach her cheek, but the twisting action shot pain throughout my body. So, I gently lifted my other hand, causing her head to move. She slowly sat up—and then grabbed on to the bed. Righting herself as if she was dizzy.

  “Hey,” I said with a smile.

  Her eyes lit up with happiness . . . and relief. “Hey back at you.” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face, and she stood. Her lips pressed against mine. Lincoln kissed me like it was our first kiss. When she pulled back, her eyes drifted up above my eye, and then she did a quick sweep of my face.

  I remembered my face coming down on my helmet, so I was positive that I looked like shit.

  “I’m not going to lie to you: I was so scared.”

  My chest ached. I could see it in her eyes. No woman had ever looked at me like this before. With such love mixed with worry. Not that Kaci hadn’t worried about me; I think she was just used to seeing me banged up.

  The way Lincoln was looking at me right now, though, I knew this thing between us was entirely unlike what Kaci and I had shared. Not to take away from my love for my first wife, but I had to admit to myself that things felt completely different with Lincoln. I wasn’t going to let myself feel guilty for loving her like I did. Not anymore. Life was too short.

  “I’m sorry. It was stupid of me to take my eyes off the bull. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Her head shook. “Please tell me I wasn’t a distraction, because if I was, I’ll never sit in the stands again.”

  My brows furrowed. “What?”

  “If I distracted you, and that’s the reason you got hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  This woman was like no other. I fell in love with her even more in that moment.

  “Lincoln, it wasn’t your fault. It’s my job, and it’s dangerous. And honestly, I was expecting a lecture about how you couldn’t love a man who rode bulls and to come find you when I was done.”

  She giggled and kissed me again. “I told you, I’m not a runner. I know what you do, and I know you love it.” Her eyes turned serious. “Brock, I promise you right now: no matter what happens, on or off a bull, I will never ask you to give up riding.”

  The tightness in my chest wasn’t from whatever injury I had. It was from the knowledge that Lincoln would stand by me no matter what. She knew what I did for a living, and she was willing to support me. My chin wobbled some as I tried to speak.

  “I love you, Lincoln. The way I feel about you is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”

  It was clear in her eyes she wanted to ask about Kaci.

  “I loved Kaci; I did. But with you . . . it feels like my soul has finally found what it was searching for.”

  More tears filled her eyes, and she leaned over to kiss me. “I love you, Brock.”

  It hit me then—my son.

  “Blayze,” I said, a worried rush to my voice.

  “He’s fine. He was upset for a couple of days, but your dad took him back home and will be back tomorrow.”

  “A couple of days? How long have I been out?”

  She pulled in a breath and said, “Three days. The last eight hours or so, you’ve been sort of waking up off and on. Not opening your eyes, but moving a lot more. You’re probably really sore.”

  I nodded. “So, what damage did he do?”

  The door to the room opened, and the nurse came in. “You’re awake, Mr. Shaw! Thank you for letting me know.” She glanced at Lincoln, who was now retreating away from me.

  I tried to lift my brow in question but stopped when I felt more pain. Lifting my hand, I felt the stitches.

  “I pushed the call button when I kissed you,” Lincoln stated.

  The nurse took my vitals and asked if I wanted some water.

  Lincoln jumped at the chance. “I’ll go get it.”

  The moment she left the room, the nurse started chatting. “So, I hear from your wife that you’re a bull rider.”

  My breath stalled. “My wife?”

  She was messing around with my IV bag but stopped to look at me. “I’m so sorry. I just assumed you were married. She certainly loves you very much. Her friends nearly had to drag her out of the room each time to get her to eat. That’s the only time she’s left you alone.”

  I licked my dry lips and focused on my words. “I could see why you thought we were married. I love her too. We haven’t been together very long.”

  Her brow rose. “Really? Well, I have a feeling the two of you are going to make . . . a beautiful future together.”

  She had paused, and I couldn’t help but wonder why. I smiled, though, and agreed with her. “I do too. She’s an amazing woman, and to be honest, I’m not sure what she sees in me.”

  With a chuckle, she stopped and looked down at me. “Oh, I see it, Mr. Shaw.” Then she winked and headed to the door. “The doctor will be in shortly. I’ve let him know you’re up. Let me know if you need any painkillers. You got some in the IV a couple of hours ago, but now that you’re up and moving around, I can give you more.”

  “Thank you.”

  Lincoln came rushing into the room. “I’ve got water!” she declared.

  I laughed and then promptly stopped because of the pain in my side. Hell, all over, if I was being honest.

  Her h
ands shook as she poured it, then slipped a straw into the cup. I asked her to raise my bed some, and she did. Never once taking her eyes off my face so that she could read my reaction to moving. Little did my cowgirl know I hid pain well.

  “That’s good,” I said when I needed the movement to stop.

  Lincoln handed me the cup, and I drank.

  “Not too much. You don’t want to get sick. Take small sips. I stopped at the nurses’ station to see if they could get you some lunch.”

  I stared into her hauntingly beautiful green eyes. They were the color of a meadow on the first day of summer. Damn, I could get lost in them, and had . . . more than once. “So, tell me what’s wrong with me and why my side hurts like hell.”

  Lincoln pulled up a chair and sat down. “Well, the worst of your injuries is a costochondral sprain.”

  I stared at her, confused. “What in the hell is that?”

  She pulled out her phone from her back pocket and grinned.

  God, she’s beautiful. Especially when she smiles.

  “I had to look it up too. So, basically, your rib bone separated from the cartilage of your sternum.”

  “Ouch.”

  With a nod, she mumbled, “Yeah. The doctor said you need complete rest.”

  “For how long?” I asked, holding my breath, which made my ribs hurt.

  “Two . . . maybe three months.”

  I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath. “Fuck.”

  “But, if you relax and take it easy—that means no working on the ranch—you’ll heal faster. They’ve prescribed pain pills to help with the pain and breathing. Deep breaths will hurt.”

  A frustrated sigh slipped from my mouth. “What else is wrong?”

  “A concussion, but there was no bleeding on the brain, which is really good. A deep cut on your leg from the bull stepping on it. You got forty stitches on that one. Then, the cut above your eye got fourteen.”

  “Huh. He must have gotten me good on the leg.”

  “They think he stepped on it and then horned you. Your face is pretty bruised, but it’s already looking better after a couple of days.”

  “Blayze. How was he when he saw me?”

  As she chewed on her lip, I could tell she was hesitant to tell me. “Well, he cried and was really scared when it happened. Then, he cried when we brought him in to see you. The first night, he slept with me over on that little sofa.”

  My gaze drifted across the room. “You let him stay with you?”

  “Of course. You’re his father, and he was worried. I will give you a heads-up. Your son is a major flirt, and I’m pretty sure at least three nurses here have fallen in love with him.”

  I laughed and then stopped again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I like hearing stories about him. I also like knowing you were both here.”

  Her cheeks flushed.

  “Those are all my injuries?”

  She nodded. “You’ve had a plethora of people here to see you. Pitt has been here. He’s a nice guy. Going through a rough patch right now with his wife and all, but a super nice guy.”

  “Yeah, he’s good people.”

  Her gaze moved down to her hands, and then back up at me. “He’s sort of mad at you for getting hurt at a rodeo.”

  I tried not to laugh. “He’ll get over it.” Lifting my hand, I placed it on the side of her cheek. “How are you, sweetheart?”

  “Um . . . I’m good. Tired. Probably need to eat some.”

  Right then, the door to the room opened, and the nurse from earlier walked in, carrying two trays of food. “I figured you might be hungry too. You need to eat.” Her comment was directed right at Lincoln.

  She simply nodded. “Yes, I’m starving.”

  She winked, and Lincoln smiled.

  “Broth?” I asked as I opened the lid to my dish.

  Lincoln opened a pack of crackers. She put one in her mouth and dipped the other, handing it to me as she said, “Think of it as pieces of steak.”

  I took it and put it in my mouth. “Mmm . . . yeah, that’s not working.”

  After eating, I asked for some pain meds and quickly fell back asleep.

  I stayed in the hospital another couple of days, just so they could make sure I was breathing clearly, and then I was discharged and sent home.

  Lincoln had packed up some things and was staying in the guest room of my house. I loved hearing her and Blayze every morning in the kitchen. It took me a while to get around the house, but I knew the more I walked around, the better it would be for my ribs. It killed my leg, though, and Lincoln insisted I use a cane. It helped, even though I refused to admit it did.

  After managing to get up and dressed on my own this morning, I called my mom; then I headed toward the sound of Lincoln’s and Blayze’s voices.

  “What if I want it in the shape of a cow?”

  I walked around the corner and saw Blayze sitting on the large island, far enough away from the stovetop where Lincoln was cooking pancakes but close enough to be involved.

  “A cow? Ugh. Why couldn’t you say a heart?”

  Blayze snarled his lip. “Gwoss.”

  “Why is a heart gross?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno.”

  “Well, I think my pancake that I made for your daddy is going to be a heart, because he owns mine.”

  A lump formed in my throat.

  With a chuckle, Blayze asked, “How can Daddy own your heart, Lincoln?”

  He hadn’t called her Miss Lincoln. That was interesting.

  “Well, it really just means that my heart belongs to your daddy. I love him and only him.”

  “You don’t wove me?”

  Lincoln stopped what she was doing and moved closer to Blayze. “Yes! Wrong words to use. Blayze, I love you so very much. You own a piece of my heart too.”

  “I do?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

  She nodded. “And I want you to know something. No matter what happens and who comes into our little world that the three of us are building right now, you will always have such a special place in my heart.”

  “Like a mommy would have for her baby boy?”

  “Yes. I might not be the mommy who grew you in her tummy, Blayze.” Her head shook a little as she gazed down at him with nothing but love. “But I would be so honored to get to be the mommy to help your daddy raise you into a fine young man, like he is.”

  My eyes filled with tears at Lincoln’s answer.

  He wrapped his arms around her, and they held each other for the longest time as I let go of a bit more of the guilt I had been holding on to.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  LINCOLN

  “Hey, good morning, you two.”

  I jumped at the sound of his voice. Blayze turned and smiled when he saw his father walking into the kitchen. Stella and I had both explained to him where Brock was hurt and that hugs were off limits for now. So, Blayze stuck his arms out in the air and pretended to hug him before Brock leaned down and kissed him.

  “Morning, buddy. What’s going on here?”

  He moved over to me and turned me toward him. He placed his finger on my chin, and my whole body instantly warmed. He slowly bent and kissed me. He certainly wasn’t afraid of showing his emotions for me in front of Blayze. It was Brock who had explained to him that I would be staying for a while to help him get better, but that I would be in the guest room.

  “Lincoln was making pancakes for us. I asked her to make a cow, but she didn’t know hows to.”

  Brock smiled and then peeked in to see me lifting out a heart-shaped silicone mold so I could flip the pancake. “You’re cheating, using that!”

  With a laugh, I replied, “Hey! I might be an interior designer, but I never claimed to be a good cook!”

  “Speaking of, is Karen okay with the amount of work you’ve missed?”

  “Yep, I took care of some work while you were in the hospital. When I couldn’t sleep and my mind needed to
focus on something else. Right now, I’m finishing up Julia’s makeover. I swear, if I see another fish or whale or dolphin, I might get sick.”

  “Like you did this mornin’?” Blayze asked.

  I froze.

  “You were sick?” Brock asked.

  I quickly took the pancake out and placed it on a plate for Blayze. “That food last night must not have agreed with me. I had a bit of an upset stomach.”

  Brock placed his hand over my stomach, and I stilled. Then, it hit me. My out-of-whack emotions the last few weeks . . . at least now I knew why I had been so emotional lately.

  “How’s it feel now?” he asked as I looked up into his eyes. When he saw the tears building, he frowned.

  “It feels amazing.”

  He smiled. He thought I meant his touch, which . . . yes, that did feel amazing, and I instantly wanted more of it.

  “I see,” he purred, kissing me once more.

  “Gwoss . . . all this kissin’. Can I eats my pancake in the living room?” Blayze asked.

  I chuckled. “Sure, I’ll bring it in there.”

  Blayze jumped off the island and bolted out of the kitchen. I quickly cut his pancake into sections and poured a small amount of syrup into a bowl. Blayze liked to dip his pancake into the syrup rather than have it poured over it. Brock poured more batter into the pan.

  “Let me take this to him,” I said, taking the plate and bowl and heading into the living room. “Here ya go, buddy. One heart-shaped pancake cut up like little pizzas for my favorite little boy!”

  Blayze beamed as he looked up at me. “Thank you, Lincoln!”

  I ruffled his hair as I said, “You are so welcome, buddy. Remember what we talked about: eat over your bowl so the syrup doesn’t get everywhere.”

  He nodded and got to work eating his pancake while he watched a cartoon.

  When I walked back into the kitchen, my breath caught at the sight of Brock standing over the stove. Even broken and bruised, this man was a sight to be seen. My heartbeat quickened, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat.

  “How do you feel?” I asked.

  “Better. It’s always good to get up and walk.”