27 Lies

by Mj Fields

  “It wasn’t real.”

  I swallow hard as he glares at me. Then he walks out of the room. As soon as he does, I lie down, bury my head in the pillow, and cry.

  Minutes later, the door opens and closes, the bed dips, and then arms are wrapped around me, pulling me tight into him.

  “This feel real to you, Ava?”

  I don’t answer.

  “Feels real to me. Feels real, and good, and right.”

  “Was never right,” I mumble.

  “That’s a lie we both believed on two totally different occasions. I thought so then when you didn’t. You are making yourself believe that now, but it’s wrong.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “It’s the truth, so please...please just leave.”

  “No.”

  “Luke, I—”

  “No.”

  “Luke...” I begin again.

  “No.”

  “You’re pissing me off,” I whisper.

  “That’s okay; I’m still here.”

  “I don’t want you here.”

  “I. Love. You,” he whispers into my ear. “I will prove what you already know. No amount of pushing me away or being nasty to me is going to make me run and hide, Ava. I know you. I know you, and I love you. It isn’t going to stop because you said so or because I don’t want to hurt you, or because tomorrow is not a guarantee, or because you think you don’t deserve it, or I think I don’t. You have loved me forever, and I will love you for as long.”

  “I loved T. I loved him. I couldn’t have him and me, Luke. What makes you think I can have me and you? What makes you think you can have me?”

  “Because I can.”

  “You can’t. I won’t let you.”

  “I’m not asking for something that isn’t already there. And I made a promise, Ava. Hell, I’ve made more promises in two weeks than I have my whole life. I made one to you, one to Hope, one to Chance, and one to myself. You may not be giving me a second shot at showing you what you already know, but I’m damn sure gonna take it.”

  I don’t say anything. What can I say?

  “I’ve got a room at the house; I’m taking them tonight.”

  I feel my body tremble.

  “You need sleep. And, Ava,” he continues, “I need them. I need them just as badly as you do.”

  “This isn’t fair, Luke. This isn’t fair,” I cry.

  He holds me tighter. I want to hate him for it—I do—but I understand. I just won’t tell him I do.

  “Hope stays. She stays,” I beg.

  “You have expressed milk enough for—”

  “Don’t do this,” I whisper.

  “You have expressed milk for two days. We’ll be fine. Get some sleep, Ava.”

  “My dad won’t let you take them.”

  “He’s not here. Go to sleep. You can come get them at Harper’s tomorrow. We’re making cookies.”

  “I will never forgive you if you take him.”

  “I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t.” He kisses the back of my head. “I love you.”

  “I hate you.”

  ***

  Logan grabbed me when I went after him. He held me when I fell to my knees, crying. He took my phone from me when I wanted to call the cops, Dad—anyone who would listen. He stopped me from running out the door during each attempt I made. And he slept in my room the entire night. Every time I woke up, he did, too.

  I am shocked when I look at my phone and see it is ten in the morning. I am even more shocked when I look out the window at the exact same time Luke pulls out of the driveway, going to Harper and Maddox’s.

  “Take a shower, Ava,” Logan tells me. “Let’s go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Have you gone shopping for your kids for Christmas yet? I sure as hell haven’t had time. Get showered, and you and I will head out.”

  I don’t respond, and he looks at me.

  “I miss my kids. I want my kids. My kids need me.”

  “So you said a million times last night. Get a shower, and then let’s go get them.”

  “But then I’ll be a shit mother without Christmas gifts.”

  “A shit godmother, too.”

  “Piper. Oh, God...” I cover my face. “I can’t go. I can’t.”

  “For someone who wanted out of this house so badly last night, you sure as hell are taking your time. Go shower. Let’s hit the mall then get your kids.”

  ***

  Walking into Target, Logan grabs a cart. “What do babies need?”

  “Their moms,” I answer, rolling my eyes.

  “Okay,” he says, picking me up.

  “Put me down, dammit,” I snarl at him as he sets me in the cart. “You’re ridiculous.”

  He laughs as he pushes the cart, using his dad voice to say, “It’s Christmastime; do you wanna build a fucking snowman?”

  “No, I want you to get me out of this cart,” I retort, trying to get out, but then he starts moving faster.

  He whips around the store as I hide my face in my hands. There is nothing else I can do.

  He throws things in the cart, things I don’t even know if they are age appropriate or not, but I don’t care.

  “Wait, stop!” I yell, and he does on a dime, nearly giving me whiplash. “I need those.”

  We are standing in front of the ornament display case where I see “Baby’s First Christmas” ornaments. There are also ones for grandparents, aunts, uncles, moms, dads, and by the time I am done, the cart is full of them and Logan has to let me out.

  On the way back to town, I am hit with the realization that I have not pumped. It hits hard, and it hurts.

  As much as I want to avoid the festivities, I need my children, and not just because I am in emotional pain. I am in physical pain, as well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I understand - J. Fields

  LUKE

  Mom bought this baby carrier thing, and I am actually wearing the damn thing. Hope seems to like it. I suppose it makes her feel safer snuggled up to me. Besides, it’s easier to have one in it and one on my hip.

  Hope had one hell of a time last night. I couldn’t put her down. Chance, on the other hand, was telling stories to everyone. He jabbered away like he is now, and everyone was laughing, him included. It’s fucking beautiful, and she should have been here.

  I have taken lives, wreaked havoc all over the world, yet nothing, not one damn thing, was as hard as walking out of her house yesterday with her kids.

  When I got home, Mom was pissed at me. I told her to stay out of it and enjoy them. She told me she was ashamed of me.

  She wasn’t the only one.

  It didn’t matter, though. It had to be done. And honestly, when they fell asleep and I walked out in the garage to do some lifting, hearing Ava going off, I actually felt better.

  She needed that. She needed to be pissed, and she needed to see what it felt like to not have her kids. I knew they were just words when she said take them, but seeing her walking down the middle of the road, followed by those words, she needed to feel it. She needed to feel what it is like when, not just a part of you dies, but what it feels like when your whole world has been threatened, in order to appreciate it.

  I have to do everything I can to stay strong, push forward, and look at the objective.

  Who am I to make that choice? I am the man who made a promise, and I don’t go back on my word.

  I feel someone pull on my pants and look down.

  “Hi.”

  I smile at Piper in her crown and tutu. “Well, hello. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” She licks some frosting from her fingers. “Where’s Ava? I need to tell her something.” She looks at Hope and beams. Then she puts her little thumbs together, fans her fingers, and wiggles them. “Butterfly hi’s, little Hope.”

  “That’s a great question,” I answer, trying to figure out what she
just did. “You think I should call her?”

  Please say yes. Give me an excuse to put myself out of my fucking misery.

  “No, she might be mad at you. T is.” With that, she skips away, leaving me standing there, confused.

  I look around and see Tessa standing two feet from me with Chance. She smiles as she looks at me like she’s trying to figure something out.

  “What is this?” I ask, walking up to her and doing the little hand thing.

  Tessa smiles and shakes her head. “Piper says she has dreams. She says that’s how T wants us to say hello to Hope and Chance.”

  “What?” This is unreal, but I want so badly to believe it.

  “She says she talks to him.”

  “Has she seen a doctor about this? I mean, I understand kids and their imaginations, but—”

  “She also told everyone you were going to be okay, T was okay, and the babies would be okay.” She pauses, allowing me to take this in. “That was before we knew, or even suspected, Chance was yours.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She sighs. “I had dreams like that, too...a long, long time ago.”

  Lucas walks up and puts his arm around her. “She dreamt of an accident, and a baby boy for months before anything...” He stops, and his eyes widen before he clears his throat. “… before your father’s accident.”

  “I don’t understand,” I admit, totally confused.

  “Neither do we,” Tessa says. “Maddox wishes to ignore it. Harper tries to stop her from being as vocal as she is about it.”

  “So, you are saying the two of you are psychic?”

  Tessa shakes her head. “Not at all. Not in the TV/movie way. I mean, I don’t know what it is exactly, just dreams. Sometimes they come true, and you wish they could go away. Sometimes, you wonder why you didn’t dream so you could stop something from happening.”

  “I dream about talking frogs, too,” Piper says from out of nowhere.

  “Oh, yeah?” I half-laugh.

  “Yep.” Then she leans in and whispers, “Real frogs don’t talk.”

  “They do, too,” I argue, and her eyes widen.

  “You’ve talked to a frog?” she asks even quieter.

  “Yep, and he said, ribbit, ribbit.” I laugh, and so does she.

  “Do you know what that means?” she asks, still laughing.

  “It means, brush your teeth.”

  “Does not.” She giggles.

  “Does, too. If not, they’ll turn green.”

  She rolls her eyes, and then I watch as she sneaks into the bathroom. When she comes out, she looks at me, and I look right back at her, elevating my eyebrows. She tries to raise hers.

  “Her teeth green from the food coloring in the cookies?” Lucas asks.

  I nod. “Made for a good story.”

  Two seconds later, I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around.

  “I need my daughter now.”

  “Well, good after—”

  “Now,” Ava hisses as she unbuckles the contraption and takes Hope.

  Hope looks at her, and her lip starts to quiver.

  “Oh, sweet girl, I’m here.”

  Ava stops when Hope does the same.

  “She’s doing good, Ava,” I tell her.

  The look she gives me nearly drops me to my knees. I have seen her hurt, pissed, angry, but that look...I never want to see that look again.

  She all but runs to the stairs, heading up them.

  “Can I have him please?”

  I take Chance from Tessa, who just finally got him away from my mother five minutes ago, and then I head up the stairs to find Ava.

  The door to Harper’s childhood bedroom is open just a crack, and when I walk in, I find Ava holding Hope tightly to her chest as tears roll down her face.

  “I’m sorry, Ava,” I start.

  “Don’t. Just go.”

  I start to turn when she says, “Can I say hello to my son?”

  “You want me to go or stay?”

  She doesn’t answer. She grabs a pillow and puts it under Hope to hold her up while she feeds. Then she wipes away her tears and holds her arms out.

  Chance grins at her and lunges. Then he reaches down her shirt, and she somehow manages to get his hand out while grabbing another pillow, using her teeth to pull her shirt up. Chance all but grabs her tit and starts going to town.

  “I swear they drank the boob juice.”

  “You are not a stupid man, Luke. An asshole, yes. Stupid, no. This is about bonding as much as it’s about feeding. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like some privacy.”

  I am just about ready to leave when Piper bounds in.

  “Lunch time?” she asks, climbing up on the bed.

  “Yep,” Ava answers, wiping away tears.

  “T said no more sad Ava. Only sunshine and butterfly hi’s.” She does the little hand gesture, and Ava heaves a silent sob. “He said so. He also said Luke’s a fanny, but that he’s okay. I told him Luke’s not a fanny.” She giggles.

  Ava blinks away her tears. I feel her pain and want to make it go away.

  “He said he loves you, and took a chance for one miracle and he got two.” She holds up two fingers.

  “Piper,” I whisper, hoping she will stop.

  “Leave her alone,” Ava scolds, not looking away from Piper. “Go on, Piper.”

  “He said number”—she scratches her head—“twenty-something—I don’t remember—but something about forever, and his forever is you, and yours is the babies and the fanny.” She giggles again. “Oh, and he says he’s sorry he told a fib, but he didn’t know what else to do to make you see the sun.” Piper takes in a deep breath then smiles, holds the palms of her hands up, and says, “That’s it. No, wait. He said it’ll be okay. Everything is okay.”

  “What else?” Ava all but begs.

  “He’s really funny. He said bricks hurt bottoms, and...”—she scratches her head again—“Luke’s a fanny.” Then she cracks up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  I’m okay and will be okay. - L. Migliore Clarke

  AVA

  “Anything else?” I ask.

  Piper shakes her head. “I gotta make cookies. You coming?”

  “I’ll be a while,” I tell her, trying my best to smile.

  When Piper leaves the room, Luke looks up from the ground. “I don’t know what to make of that, or what to say.”

  “I don’t want to talk to you, Luke. I don’t want to do anything but feed my kids, and then sneak out of here and take them home.”

  “I can help.”

  “You’ve helped enough.”

  He looks back down. “I don’t want it to be this way, either, Ava, but we were making progress. Then...Jesus, I wish I hadn’t tried to find the guy and make him pay for what he did to you, to Thomas, to the kids. I was trying to take some of your worries away.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” I tell him. “It’s not. And I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Ava...” He closes his eyes. “I got a new phone, so I’ll never miss a call again.”

  “It’s not that, either, Luke. Do you not listen to me?”

  “I’d rather listen to Piper talk about your T than listen to you tell me what I have done—whatever it may be—is unforgivable.”

  “I want to feed my babies and hold them, not fight with you.”

  “Fine, Ava, fine,” he says and walks away.

  As soon as he leaves, Harper comes in.

  “Is the room too crowded, or can Reed and I join you for lunch?”

  “He’s beautiful, Harper,” I tell her as I start to move over.

  “Don’t you dare move. I have one; you...you have...skill.” She laughs, and I can’t help smiling.

  “It was out of necessity. I didn’t have a chance to pump last night.”

  “How awful was it?” she asks, and I know it’s out of deep concern.

  “Well, on a scale of T dying in my arms just a few months ago
, to finding out he knew there was a possibility that one of them wasn’t his and never told me, to telling everyone I lied for months, it was still an eleven.”

  “Oh, Ava, I am so sorry.”

  “I don’t want pity, Harper,” I tell her, looking at the babies as they drift off.

  “It’s not pity. It’s...It’s awful what he did,” she whispers, looking around like she may get caught.

  I shake my head. “It’s not okay, but I probably would have done the same if it were the other way around.”

  “My God, you and Maddox are the same,” she says. “He said the same thing.”

  “The problem is, T knew I couldn’t keep it a secret from Luke, so he made it go away.”

  “You would have told him?”

  I nod. “Yes. I’m really not that bad of a person.”

  “I know you’re not. I know that, Ava.”

  “I mean, I see why he did it. Now I see even more. I don’t want to share them with anyone. I don’t, but I have no choice.”

  “You do. That man loves you, Ava.”

  “He needs to stop saying that.”

  She gasps. “He told you he loves you?”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean a damn thing. He loves me in a different way than T loved me. He’s Luke, Harper. He’s going to do the right thing. Then, a couple years down the road, he’ll figure out that I was right, and he’ll be miserable. I’ll be miserable.

  “Look at my parents. Their love was a lie. I don’t want to end up like that. I don’t want to be someone’s burden, and I damn sure don’t want Hope to be. Right now, as it stands, I’m a little slut, but I am nobody’s burden.”

  “You are not a slut.” She laughs. “Besides, I don’t think he sees you as a burden. As a matter of fact, I know he doesn’t. And I am even more sure he doesn’t feel that way about Hope. Heck, he wore her around all day and wouldn’t let anyone hold her.”

  “He’s Luke Lane, Harper. He’ll always be Luke Lane. And I will not hold him back from being who he is.”

  “But you are, Ava.”

  “He can take up another cause,” I huff.

  “You’ve always been his”—she pauses— “cause.”

  “So I hear. Well, I don’t want to be his cause; I want to be their mom. I want them to be happy and healthy.”