by Harlow Layne
“You need to finish your breakfast so you’re not late to class. We still need to go by the shelter, so you can change your clothes and grab your backpack for school.”
“Yes, Mama.”
For the rest of breakfast, I try to shoot imaginary daggers at Max, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles and talks to Beckham like he didn’t overstep by talking to my son about living here without me agreeing.
Once breakfast is finished, I gather the plates and start to wash them. I don’t want to leave a huge mess for Max to clean up later, because there’s no way in hell we’re staying here with him.
Looking over my shoulder, I find Beckham and Max looking out the picture window while pointing and talking. “Honey, go grab your shoes and anything else you left upstairs, so we can leave in a few minutes. You don’t want to be late.”
When Beckham runs out of the room and up the stairs, I turn on Max. “After we drop him off at school, we need to continue this.”
“There’s nothing to continue. I have the space and security to house you. If you want to help, you can keep cooking me meals like you did today. Other than when my mom cooks for me, I don’t get many home-cooked meals.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not? I don’t see what the problem is. I’m nothing like your ex-boyfriend, I promise you. I can promise you won’t be in my way, and I’ll stay out of yours if that’s what you want.” He moves closer until he’s only a few inches away. “It gets lonely here and I could use the company. Plus, it’s only until you get back on your feet. Let me ask you something. Does Beckham have his own room at the shelter?” I can’t form the words to speak, so I only shake my head. “Does he have his own bed?” Again, I shake my head. “And how big is this bed the two of you share?” I clamp my lips together, knowing what he’s going to say after I answer him.
“A twin,” I mumble.
“Surely you’d rather have your son have his own bed to sleep in at night. And yourself?”
Damn it, if he isn’t right.
6
Max
I can’t keep the smirk off my face as Delilah huffs around the small room she and Beckham have been staying in. After seeing the tiny space they’ve called home since they arrived in Murfreesboro, there’s no way in hell I’m letting them stay here.
There’s also the fact that I can feel that she’s not telling me everything going on with her ex, but I can be patient and wait for her to open up to me. Whatever it is, I sense it’s bad after what she told me earlier this morning.
There’s this profound need for me to protect them from all the ugliness they’ve endured now that they’re in my life.
“This really isn’t necessary,” Delilah hisses.
“It is since you’re staying at my house. How many times do I have to say it before it sinks into that thick skull of yours?”
“If you think it’s so thick, then why are you bothering?” She stops her packing and turns to glare at me. “We’ll only be a nuisance. Do you really want a pregnant woman and a seven-year-old under your roof?”
After what she said about Bradley never really liking her son, I can see why she’s concerned, but she doesn’t need to be with me. That kid is the best damn kid I’ve ever met.
“Like I said before, I wouldn’t have mentioned it if I didn’t mean it. You and Beckham will be no problem. Plus, think of how much easier it will be to take him to games while staying with me since you don’t have a car.”
“I feel like you’re using my situation against me to get what you want. What that is I don’t know yet, but what I do know is I don’t like it.”
She’s right in the fact I’m using it against her, but not to make her feel bad about herself. Rather, to convince her that staying with me is the best thing for her.
“Hey,” I say, stepping up to her and placing my hands on her upper arms, “I don’t fault you for what you’ve done. Now that I know the story, I commend you for leaving the way you did. I’m being a good human being and only want to help you and your son. What’s wrong with that?”
“Ugh,” she huffs and turns around in a circle. “There’s nothing wrong with it, but I don’t like the way you’ve gone about it. You didn’t ask me, and instead, you told me what I’m doing and I’m not going to have another man dictate my life. Not now or ever again.”
I can respect that. She didn’t have it easy with her ex, and I’m causing her to think about him and the way he treated her. I need to change my approach with her if I want her to cooperate without getting angry. The only problem is I like it when she gets mad at me. The way her cheeks flush and the way her nose crinkles when I say something she doesn’t like.
There’s something about her that draws me to her, and all I want to do is protect her from the world that seems to have beaten her down.
“That was never my intention, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to run your life, but to make it easier for you. It’s that simple. Now finish packing, so we have time to stop by the grocery store on the way back to my house.”
At least Beckham’s at school and didn’t have to witness this. She’s been fighting me since the second we dropped him off.
Her hands go to the curve of her hips and it has me imagining what it would feel like to have my hands on her supple curves. “You’re doing it again.”
What can I say? I can’t help myself.
Instead of saying something that will probably piss her off more, I keep my mouth closed and help her finish putting her things into the one bag she has.
“Is that it?” I ask once she’s stripped the bed.
“I know it’s not much, but yeah, as of right now that’s all of our earthly possessions.” She looks down at the bag and then up to me with a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there earlier. “It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“It’s not sad. I find it very commendable you took control over your life. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, especially with a young child and being pregnant. If you want, I can ask around about who’s the best doctor for you and your baby.”
She places her hands on her flat stomach. “That would be really sweet of you. Once I find a job and save a little, I want to see a doctor.”
I don’t tell her there’s no way I’m going to make her wait to receive the care of a doctor until she can afford it, since I know all it will do is start another fight. Even though I like that she’s a little spitfire, I understand Delilah and her pride.
Delilah leaves with the bedding and comes back empty-handed. For a moment, she looks around the room with a small smile on her face. “I’m ready if you are.”
I feel a sense of pride radiating off her and she should. Delilah took back her life when she left that asshole.
We both go to pick up her overly stuffed bag, but I push her hands away and take it. There’s no way I’m going to let her carry something so heavy when I’m standing right here. She narrows her eyes at me, but there’s also a slight uptick of her lips. Instead of fighting with me, she picks up a stuffed polar bear and hugs it to her chest.
“I’m surprised Beckham didn’t wake up in the middle of the night looking for this guy. He normally can’t sleep without him,” she says as she follows me out of the room. She waves to a few people but doesn’t say goodbye to anyone.
Still, she did tell them she’s leaving and didn’t say she’ll be back, so that’s a step in the right direction. That is, until I stop her from opening the truck door.
“Let me be chivalrous, woman,” I laugh down my nose at her.
“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” She laughs with me as she lets me help her up into her seat.
“You know, if you want to look for a job, I have an extra car in my garage you can use. It will help you save money instead of taking Ubers everywhere.”
She turns in her seat to look at me. “I was walking to most of them, and maybe that’s why I didn’t get the job because they saw me walking. Either that, or the bruising on my face, or t
he fact that I’m pregnant and will only be able to work for several months before I have to take maternity leave. Anyway, if we’re staying at your house, there’s no way I can walk anywhere, so I might just take you up on your offer.”
I smile to myself. It’s nice when she gives in easily.
“If you tell me what type of job you’re looking for, maybe I can help you.” I shrug.
She lets out a defeated breath. “Anything, really. I need to make some money before this baby is born. They’re not cheap.” Turning to look out the window, she rests her forehead against the glass as she speaks. “I had plans to go to college but got pregnant at eighteen. My boyfriend at the time joined the Marines and told me he’d happily take care of his family. I stupidly moved away with him all so I could stay home and play the part of the little housewife instead of going to college. The next thing I knew, Jacob was dead, and I was alone at the age of nineteen and a single mom.”
Fuck, that couldn’t have been easy. It has me thinking if she was eighteen when she got pregnant that had to make her twenty-five to my thirty-two years of age.
“Did you love him?” I hear myself ask.
“I did love him, but I was never in love with him if you know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.” I turn to look at her and find her staring back at me. “Can you explain it to me?”
“You know how if you’re around someone long enough, you begin to love them. Even if it’s a friend. After years of being friends with someone, you can love them. Well, that’s kind of what happened with me and Jacob. I got pregnant the summer after I graduated high school and while my parents didn’t demand anything of me, I wanted to show I was responsible, so I left with Jacob. I thought I was doing the right thing, even if it did break my heart and the hearts of my parents and sister with me moving to Biloxi.”
She wipes a tear that escapes as it starts to trail down her cheek. “I never got the chance to fall in love with him. He was deployed not long after we moved. I love him for giving me Beckham because he’s my everything. I had severe postpartum depression after I had him, and to learn that the father of my child was dead sent me spiraling.”
“Didn’t anyone know?”
“My parents had their suspicions, but I told them I was fine when I wasn’t. If I could do it all over again, I would have gone back home to live with them after Jacob died, but I still wanted to prove myself. If you ever meet my parents, you’ll wonder why I made the decisions I did and all I can say is I was young, dumb, depressed and wanted to show them I could be something.”
She’s right. Her situation doesn’t make sense to me. “Why do you have something to prove?”
“My parents are, well…” She shrugs and breaks eye contact. “They’re kind of famous. They’re not crazy millionaires or anything like that, but they are where they are today because of hard work. My mom is a famous photographer, and my dad was a male supermodel. He doesn’t model much nowadays, and he became a photographer as well. They travel all over the world for photoshoots. More so now that me and my sister don’t live with them. It’s a lot to live up to, even if they’ve never said I had to. I feel the pressure.”
Reaching over, I take her hand in mine. “Thank you for opening up to me. I know it wasn’t easy, but maybe you’ll see once you start it gets easier in time.”
“Maybe,” she shrugs, and goes back to looking out the window. “I know I’ll never do anything like them, but I’d be happy to even have the relationship they have. My parents are more in love today than they were when they got married.”
I know exactly how she feels. My mom and dad are the same way, as is everyone in the Mayson family. They are couple goals for sure.
“That’s a lot to live up to, but you shouldn’t compare yourself to them. I’m sure if you asked, they’d tell you they’re proud of the woman and the mom you are. I may not know you very well yet, but I can tell you are a wonderful mom and you’d lay down your life for your son.”
“I would. I really would.” Her voice breaks as she says the last. Pulling her hand from mine, she wipes her eyes. “I’m sorry I’m so emotional. I’m not typically this bad, but this time my pregnancy hormones have taken over.”
“If you say so,” I joke. I like a woman who isn’t afraid to show who she is or what she’s feeling. It’s better than the fake women who tried to surround me when I lived in New York.
“That’s enough about me.” She clears her throat, and her tone is more upbeat when she asks. “Have you ever been in love?”
“Can’t say that I have. It’s been hard to find women who are… genuinely interested in me, I guess you can say.”
She tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
“Being a professional athlete, women only want me for my money or status. They don’t care to get to know the real me. Especially when they learn I had a short career because of my shoulder and then that I wanted to move back to Tennessee. After a while, I stopped trying to find someone to spend my time with and only sought them out when I needed a release.”
“Oh,” Delilah shakes her head and then clears her voice. “I didn’t know we were diving that deep into our sexual history.” She laughs and then covers her mouth.
“I don’t want to lie to you. That’s not who I am and going by what you’ve told me, I can surmise you’ve slept with the two men who’ve gotten you pregnant.”
“A regular Sherlock Holmes over there.” She giggles. “But please don’t feel the need to tell me about all the women you’ve slept with. I don’t need those numbers.”
She probably thinks I’ve slept with hundreds of women, but she’d be wrong. I have quite a few under my belt, but I was never one of those guys to sleep with a different woman every night.
Raising my brows at her, I chuckle. “If you ever want to know, all you have to do is ask.”
“That will never happen.” She looks at me when I turn off my truck at the grocery store. “I still don’t understand why you have all those groceries when you don’t cook.”
“I never said I don’t cook. I just use the microwave for all my cooking needs. It’s fast and simple. I never saw the point of making much when it’s only me. It’s kind of sad. When I lived in New York, I had all my meals delivered to my house, so it wasn’t—”
“As sad,” she answers for me.
“Exactly. I got used to living the bachelor life.”
“And yet you want us to stay at your house.” She shakes her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Does it need to?”
She looks out the window and bites her lower lip. “If this was before Bradley, I would say no, but I have Beckham and a baby to think about as well as myself. Right now, I’m having a hard time trusting men.”
I don’t blame her. She’s been burned badly. Being abused and controlled for the last four years would make anyone hesitant to trust new people.
“I’m going to lay this out for you because I don’t want it to blindside you later. I like you, Delilah, and I like your son. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve felt a pull to you that I can’t explain, and I want to investigate it further.”
She opens her mouth to what I’m sure is going to be her politely turning me down, but I stop her with a finger to her plush lips.
“I know now isn’t a good time in your life, but let me get to know you and you can do the same with me. We’ll take it slow and if you see me as only a friend, I’ll try to learn to accept that fate.”
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she finds her words. “I’m not saying I’m considering what you’ve just said, but I want to know. How can you want a relationship with a woman who has children that aren’t your own?”
“You know December isn’t my real mom. She’s my stepmother, but she’s treated me and my brother more like a mother than our biological one ever did. Blood doesn’t make a parent. Love does, and I can say with one hundred percent certainty that it wouldn’t take me long to lo
ve your son.”
Her eyes turn glassy as she stares at me from across the cab. “That has to be the single best and sweetest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“I mean every word of it.”
She nods. “I know you do, that’s what’s so incredible about it. I…”
“What? Please tell me what you’re thinking.” Here I spilled my heart out to her, and she’s leaving me with bated breath.
“I like you, but I need time and I’m not sure how much. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I’m pregnant again.”
“I guess it wasn’t planned,” I say even though she said last night it wasn’t a planned pregnancy.
“You’d guess right. There was never an instant when I wanted to have his baby, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love it. I already love him or her.”
“I never doubted it for a second. You’re a good mom, and I’ll give you the time you need as long as you can tell me I’ll eventually have a chance.”
She doesn’t say the words as if she’s too afraid to say them, but she gives me a timid smile and nods. That’s all I can ask for in that moment. I need to show her I’m someone she can trust and someone who will be good to her, her son, and her unborn baby.
I wish I knew the magic spell that would help me break through to her. I may have seen glimpses of her softening to me, but there are more times than not she’s had her walls up around me.
7
Delilah
“Mama,” Beckham shouts from the back door of Max’s house, “there’s a dog out by the creek and I think it’s hurt.”
He sounds so sad that the poor puppy might be hurt that I set down the dish I was washing, and head to the door where my son stands. His eyes are transfixed on what looks to be a German Shepherd. A big German Shepherd, and even from here I can see there’s blood on its hindquarters and it’s limping.