Colton's Covert Baby

by Lara Lacombe

  The other woman stepped close and took one of Molly’s hands between her own. “Like I said before, you don’t need to apologize. I’ll keep you up to date on the investigation.”

  “Thank you,” Molly said.

  The deputy sheriff nodded and walked out of the room, leaving Molly and Max alone.

  “How are you doing?” he asked quietly.

  She sighed, her shoulders sagging under his arm. “I’m not sure.”

  Taking a chance, Max kept his arm around her and pivoted to bring them face-to-face. He brought his other arm up and slowly drew her forward, giving her time to reject his embrace.

  She dropped her head against his chest, sinking into the hug. Max buried his nose in her hair. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he said, moving one hand up and down the valley of her spine. “I wish I could make this better for you.”

  His heart broke as she began to cry. Quiet sniffs at first, but soon she was sobbing, her body heaving as she fought to draw in choked breaths.

  Max held her close, his body absorbing her shudders as his shirt soaked up her tears. He wasn’t sure how long they stood there, but gradually her breathing began to even out and the sniffles subsided.

  “What can I do for you?” He wanted to help her, to charge into the fray for her, to do whatever it took to make her smile again.

  “Just take me home.” Her voice was dull, like a black-and-white sketch of her normal full-color self.

  “All right.” He took her arm and led her out of the hospital. When they neared the car, she dug into her purse and handed him the keys. “Do you remember how to get to my house?”

  Max nodded, taking the keys from her hand. Without saying another word, she crawled into the back seat and reached for Furbert.

  Max settled behind the wheel, eyeing the pair of them in the rearview mirror. Furbert half sat, half stood in her lap, his head leaning into her shoulder as Molly wrapped her arms around him.

  “Good boy,” Max murmured. He started the car and began the drive back to Molly’s, one eye on the road and the other on the duo he cared for more than anything else in the world.

  Chapter 10

  Molly moved on autopilot, walking from the car into her house with no true awareness of her actions. She sat on the sofa, feeling numb from the neck down. Everything was muted—the brightly colored throw pillows next to her looked pale, and sounds seemed distorted, as if she were hearing them underwater. She felt a warmth at her side; Furbert, she realized dimly. I should pet him, she thought. But she couldn’t seem to muster the energy to do so.

  Suddenly, Max was in front of her. He took her hands, cupped them around something warm. Tea.

  She stared at the mug for a moment, trying to remember what to do with it. The world seemed foreign, as if she’d been dropped in a parallel universe where everything was just a bit wrong, a knockoff that upon closer inspection revealed itself to be a cheap imitation of the real thing.

  “Molly.”

  The sound of her name brushed aside some of her mental fog. Max was sitting on her other side, one arm draped across the back of the sofa, his free hand helping steady the mug in her lap.

  “Are you hungry?”

  She blinked at the question. What did that even mean?

  “She’s gone.”

  Max’s features softened. “I know.”

  “Why did this happen?”

  He took the cup from her hands, set it on the low table in front of them. Molly missed its warmth, but she didn’t bother to protest.

  “I don’t know.”

  She stared at the table until it grew blurry. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Max pulled her against his side. He was solid. Warm. Strong.

  “You live,” he said simply. “You remember her, try to honor her memory. You carry on.”

  His words made a strange kind of sense. But even though he hadn’t said much, his advice seemed like an impossible task.

  “I—I don’t know if I can do that.”

  He stroked his hand up and down her arm. She focused on the sensation of his touch, an anchor in these unfamiliar waters.

  “You can,” he said. His voice was low and deep, his chest rumbling against her side. “Right now, the grief is so strong you don’t think you’ll ever be able to function again. But little by little, you’ll find a way to keep going. Your sadness won’t ever leave. But you will get better at dealing with it.”

  She wanted to believe him, she truly did. But it sounded too good to be true. “How do you know?”

  “I’ve lost people, too,” he confided. “The circumstances were different, but they’re gone all the same.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Her pain was so great, she wouldn’t wish this on her worst enemy.

  His hand stilled on her arm. Then he chuckled softly. “You are amazing,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” That seemed like an odd thing to say, under the circumstances.

  He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then rested his cheek there. “You’re in the middle of processing the shock of your life. And yet you’re still worried about my experiences from years ago.”

  “If what you said is true, then the loss still hurts.”

  “It does,” he confirmed. “But the rest of what I said is true, too. The pain isn’t so acute now—it’s more like a dull ache. A sore spot in my heart that I’ve gotten used to living with.”

  Maybe he was right. Maybe someday the pain would fade. But in this moment, Molly couldn’t imagine a day when she wouldn’t feel like her heart was being torn in two.

  “She was so beautiful,” she choked out. Memories of Sabrina filled her head, a movie reel of growing up together.

  “Tell me about her,” Max said softly. “If it doesn’t hurt too much to talk about her.”

  “No... I think I’d like that.” If she shared her memories of Sabrina, someone else would know about her. Part of her sister would still live on, in some small way.

  She started talking, haltingly at first, then picking up speed as the words flowed out of her. Despite their seven-year age difference, she and Sabrina had often ganged up to pick on Mason when they were all kids. Max laughed as she recounted some of their antics, such as the time they’d woken up early one Christmas morning and hidden all of Mason’s presents, convincing him that Santa had skipped him that year. Or when they’d switched the labels on some of his toiletries, so he’d reached for his mousse and wound up using shaving cream in his hair instead.

  “Poor guy,” Max said, his chest vibrating with laughter. “He didn’t stand a chance against you two.”

  “Don’t feel too sorry for him,” Molly retorted. “He paid us back, I can assure you.”

  “It sounds like you were all close, despite the pranks. I’m sure your parents were happy about that.”

  “They were.” Molly smiled, enjoying the moment of reverie. Then a black wave washed over her, stealing her breath. “Oh, my God,” she said, fresh tears forming. “My parents. I have to tell them she’s gone.”

  Furbert pressed himself against her side, apparently sensing her renewed distress. She ran one hand through his fur, grateful for the small tactile distraction. “How am I going to do this?” As bad as her pain was, she knew her parents’ grief would be even more palpable. Molly hadn’t even met her daughter yet, but already the thought of losing her was enough to take her breath away. How would her poor mother handle this news?

  “The police may have already contacted them,” Max pointed out. “If they haven’t, why don’t you let the deputy sheriff handle it?”

  “No.” Molly shook her head. As hard as it was going to be to tell them Sabrina was gone, her parents deserved to hear it from a family member. “I don’t want a stranger to tell them she’s dead.”

  “Fair enough,” Max said. “But why don’t yo
u and Mason tell them together? That way, you don’t have to do this alone.”

  She nodded. The idea of Mason helping her brought a small measure of relief. If they spoke to her parents together, her mom and dad might take comfort in knowing their two remaining children were fine, under the circumstances.

  She glanced around. Where was her phone? Might as well get this over with—the news would not improve with keeping.

  “Stay here,” Max said. “I’ll get your bag.”

  He rose from the couch. She felt his loss immediately, an unmooring sensation that made her stomach churn. Her hand tightened in Furbert’s coat; in response, the dog shifted so that his front legs were stretched out in her lap. He pressed his head to her chest, hugging her as best as he was able.

  Max returned a few seconds later. “Good boy,” he said softly, placing her bag on the cushion he’d just left.

  “He is,” Molly concurred. “You know, I don’t even like dogs. I don’t dislike them, but I’ve never considered myself a dog person.”

  “That’s okay,” Max said. “Furbert won’t hold it against you.”

  She smiled, then pulled her phone free. Keeping one hand on Furbert, she called her brother.

  “Yes?” Mason sounded exhausted, as though it had taken all his energy to answer her call.

  “How are you?” It was such a prosaic question, but she didn’t know what else to say.

  “How do you think?”

  Molly immediately understood his reply. “I know,” she said softly.

  “It just doesn’t make sense,” he said, a bit of emotion seeping into his voice. “I keep going over and over it in my head, but I can’t understand why she’s gone.”

  “I know.” She let him rage, listened as he said what she’d been thinking all day.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he said finally.

  “I don’t, either,” Molly admitted. “But I do know we need to call Mom and Dad.”

  Mason sighed heavily. “I...I don’t think I can do that, Mols.”

  Molly closed her eyes, feeling a weight descend on her shoulders. “I won’t make you,” she said. “But it would mean a lot if you helped me do this.”

  “I can’t.” There were tears in his voice now. “I can’t hurt Mom like that.”

  And you think I want to? A flush of anger rushed through her, making her want to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath. “Please, Mason. I want them to hear both our voices.”

  “I’m sorry, Molly. I just don’t have it in me right now.”

  She bit her tongue, choked back the words she wanted desperately to say. Deep down inside, she recognized that adding to Mason’s pain wouldn’t lessen her own. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll check in with you later.”

  “I love you.” There was relief and regret in his voice, as if he knew he’d let her down but was incapable of doing anything about it.

  “I love you, too.” Molly ended the call and dropped her forehead to rest on Furbert.

  “Come on,” Max said gently. “Why don’t you lie down for a bit? Collect yourself before you call them.”

  It was a tempting suggestion, but she knew if she didn’t tell her parents now, she’d lose her nerve.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “I have to tell them now. It’s been too long already.”

  “Okay.”

  Molly stared at Max, feeling as though she were truly seeing him for the first time that day. He’d been unquestioningly supportive, a rock she’d clung to as her emotions had raged and grief had battered her from all sides.

  She’d known he was a good man—had known it from the start. But his actions today had shown her he cared about her, more than any words ever could.

  Molly didn’t know what their future might hold. Truly, she couldn’t worry about it now, not with her sister’s death still so fresh. But the mountain of anxiety she’d been carrying around ever since learning she was pregnant began to lighten.

  He didn’t think of her as just a fling—someone to have fun with and leave when things got too heavy. If it were that simple, he’d have left after learning about the baby. But he was here, standing beside her while she dealt with the aftermath of Sabrina’s murder.

  Maybe things would work out between them after all. Maybe she didn’t need to be so worried about how they were going to handle adding a baby to their lives. She clung to the small hope, the only bright light in this otherwise dark time.

  “Molly?”

  She shook her head, dispelling the distracting thoughts. It felt wrong to even think about planning her future when Sabrina no longer had one.

  “Are you sure you want to do this right now?”

  No.

  She nodded. “Yes,” she said, swiping tears from her eyes. “Will you...will you stay with me?”

  Max’s green eyes warmed with an emotion she couldn’t name. He moved her bag, then sat next to her once more.

  “You know I will.”

  * * *

  It was his stomach that woke him.

  Max opened his eyes, peering into the dimly lit room. Where am I?

  He took a deep breath. As Molly’s scent filled his nose, it all clicked into place.

  Molly’s house. Her bedroom. Sabrina’s murder.

  He turned his head to the side. Sure enough, Molly was curled against him, her body warm and soft. She slept peacefully now, though she hadn’t started out that way.

  The call to her parents had been tough. Max had heard her mother’s cries, even though Molly had kept the phone pressed to her ear. She’d sat silently, absorbing their reaction. When their screams had stopped, she’d tried to offer words of comfort through her own tears.

  The whole thing had been heartbreaking. Max had felt powerless, unable to do anything but bear silent witness to Molly’s agonizing pain.

  When it was over, Molly had crumpled, sagging into herself like a deflating balloon. Max had scooped her up into his arms and carried her to bed. He’d intended to leave her, to let her rest while he took care of a few things he’d noticed around the house, like the trash that needed to be taken out and the dry dishes that needed to be put away. But as he’d tried to draw back, Molly gripped his wrist.

  “You said you’d stay,” she’d whimpered.

  “If that’s what you want.”

  At her nod, he’d slid into bed beside her. She’d immediately embraced him, resting her head on his shoulder. Furbert had jumped onto the mattress as well, arranging himself at Molly’s feet. The two of them had done their best to comfort her as she’d cried herself to sleep.

  At some point, he’d fallen asleep, as well. But now he was hungry, and he was willing to bet Furbert was, too.

  He glanced at his watch—just after 6:00 p.m. Time to get up and see about fixing dinner. Molly might not be interested in food, but it was important she ate something. She needed to keep up her strength for the baby.

  Moving carefully, Max climbed out of bed. He took his pillow and placed it next to Molly, hoping she wouldn’t miss him right away.

  Furbert lifted his head in inquiry. “Stay,” Max commanded softly. He didn’t want Molly to be alone when she woke.

  After a quick stop in the bathroom, he made it to the kitchen. A check of the freezer revealed a frozen lasagna—that would work for the two of them, but he had to find something for Furbert, as well.

  He had more luck with the fridge. There was a package of ground turkey, and he found a box of rice in her pantry. “Looks like we all get to eat tonight,” he muttered to himself as he began heating the oven, boiling a pot of water and cooking the meat.

  Molly shambled in about twenty minutes later, Furbert at her side. She took one look at him standing by the stove and nodded. “It wasn’t a dream.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, with no hint of emotion.

  Max shook his h
ead. “I’m afraid not.”

  She didn’t reply. Instead, she walked over to a cabinet, retrieved a bowl and filled it with water. She set it on the floor in the corner, then moved to the small table by the window and sat.

  It was a small gesture, one that hadn’t taken much effort. But the fact that she’d done something kind for Furbert in the midst of her own grief heightened his regard for her even more.

  Max stirred the turkey, unsure of what to say. She’d been so emotional earlier in the day, he didn’t know what to make of her preternaturally calm demeanor now.

  “What are you making?”

  “Lasagna for us. Turkey and rice for Furbert.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is that okay? I’ll make sure to replace the groceries I use for him.” He didn’t want her to think he and his dog were going to eat her out of house and home.

  “It’s not a problem,” she said, waving away his concern. “I just didn’t realize he could eat people food.”

  “Yeah.” Max relaxed, relieved he hadn’t upset her. “There are some foods that are good for him, and a lot that isn’t. But meat and rice is a nice treat for him.”

  Molly watched him quietly. He couldn’t read her expression, but she seemed almost...normal. If he hadn’t known about the events of the day, he’d have thought she was simply in a contemplative mood.

  She said something, though she spoke so quietly he couldn’t hear. “What’s that?” he asked as he dumped the turkey and the rice in a large bowl and began stirring.

  Molly gave him a small smile. “I was just saying you look good in the kitchen. A real natural.”

  Max laughed, though her words worried him a bit. He still wasn’t sure how they were going to work things out between them. The news of Sabrina’s murder had cast a pall over everything, dulling the earlier sense of urgency they’d both felt to come up with a plan.

  He wasn’t going to leave Molly and the baby in the lurch—that much he knew. But he also still knew he wasn’t cut out for marriage. It would be better for both of them if Molly didn’t get any ideas about domestic bliss, since that was one thing he couldn’t give her.