Dare to Hold

by Carly Phillips

  “So explain you don’t feel that way anymore!” Olivia glanced over her shoulder, but there was no sign of Meg yet.

  “What if I do?”

  “Excuse me?” his sister asked, sounding appalled.

  “Look, Liv,” he said, ignoring Dylan because he really couldn’t deal with the other man at the moment. “I love her, okay? What if I let myself get so involved with her and the baby and then we wrap things up with her stalker ex and she doesn’t need me anymore? She can pick up and move out, and that’s it. Everything gone again. Except this time, I don’t know if I’d get over it.”

  His sister’s jaw had gone slack. “You love her?”

  Scott couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud either. Hell, he hadn’t admitted it to himself before now. But what else was this driving need to be with her, to protect her, to get so involved in her life that she wouldn’t want to leave?

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “Then man up,” Dylan said.

  Scott clenched his hands beneath the table. “What the fuck do you know about me or my life?” he asked the other man. “Just because you are or were Meg’s best friend doesn’t give you the right to tell me what to do.”

  Dylan’s hand came down on the table hard. Olivia jumped, then wrapped her fingers around his hand. “Stop it and listen. Both of you.”

  She turned to Scott. “I, of all people, know how hard it is to get over the pain in your past.”

  His sister had lost a baby when she was young, been betrayed by both that baby’s father and their own parent. So yes, Olivia understood better than most.

  “But the risk is so worth it,” she said, glancing at her husband, her eyes shining with love. “Dylan stuck by me. He never gave up on me. On us. And because of that, I was able to come around and believe that I deserved a future that included kids … and a good man,” she said, her voice thick and full of emotion.

  His sister’s words wrapped around him, making sense not because of the logic but due to the fact that she’d all but experienced the same feelings of loss. She’d closed herself off to more. And she’d come out the other side because she’d been brave.

  “Look, man. You knew Meg was pregnant when you started this thing. Are you really going to bail now because it’s getting real?”

  “Dylan,” Olivia said, warning him to shut up with her tone.

  “What? It’s the truth,” Dylan muttered.

  “He gets what I said, don’t you?” his sister asked him.

  Scott met Olivia’s gaze and nodded, because he did. Olivia had done what he would have thought was impossible and gotten through to him. Dylan was right. He had to man up. Not necessarily throw Meg’s life into further turmoil by dumping his feelings on her in the middle of her current nightmare, but he had to stop waffling. He’d told her from the beginning he was all in.

  Then he’d turned around and backed off when messy emotions had gotten involved. Shame on him, he thought.

  “Here she comes,” Olivia said softly.

  Scott looked from his sister to Dylan. “I heard you. Both of you,” he said, rising to his feet as Meg approached the table.

  He held out her chair so she could sit, and Emilio returned with their food. The rest of the meal passed with general conversation. Scott was ready to get Meg home and fix things between them as best he could. The rest would come with time. He hoped.

  * * *

  Meg walked out of the restaurant and headed for the parking garage. The balmy air settled on her shoulders, too humid for comfort. She glanced at Scott, who seemed … calmer somehow. Which she didn’t understand considering how intense so much of the conversation had been.

  “Would it be okay if we stopped by my apartment on the way home?” she asked. They weren’t too far from her place, so it wasn’t out of the way. “I need more comfortable clothes, since I’m not going to be working, and while I’m there, I can grab my mail.”

  “Not a problem.”

  He braced his hand on the small of her back as they walked, and she did her best not to visibly react to his warm touch. Even if her body responded to him, would always respond to him, her brain was sending out warning signals to keep her emotional distance.

  “I should have told you what I knew about the Ashtons,” he said, surprising her. “I just figured you needed time to breathe before we jumped into that again on Wednesday.”

  She smiled grimly. “And you didn’t know Luke was going to tell me first, which pissed you off.”

  “It’s not that,” he said, too quickly.

  She deliberately cleared her throat, giving him a chance to change his mind.

  “Okay, it’s that,” he said, obviously caught. “It’s just… I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  They paused outside the garage where they’d parked. “But you didn’t. You decided to wait. We’ve talked about this already. You can’t keep making decisions about what I need to know and when.”

  “You’re right.” He tilted his head, looking into her eyes as he spoke.

  “I am?”

  “But you have to admit we’ve had a lot of different emotional topics going on. I can’t always know what’s best or get it right.”

  She sighed, and the weight on her shoulders eased a little. “I’ll give you that.” Nothing between them was simple. Or easy. Not anymore.

  His hand slid from her back to her hip, and he turned her to face him. “Don’t give up on me,” he said in a thick tone, his eyes a darker navy than she could remember seeing them, his expression serious. “I know I’ve given you reason not to trust me. I came on strong, and I pulled back … but that’s over now.”

  She shook her head, not understanding. But her heart beat faster inside her chest.

  “You’ve been great,” she told him honestly. “You stepped up when nobody else did. You’re making sure both me and my baby are safe. I’m grateful.”

  His hand tightened on her waist. “I don’t want your gratitude, baby.”

  Her heart tripped at his use of the word in that tone. He sounded more like the Scott who’d pushed his way into her life and promised he’d never leave and less like the man who’d pulled away emotionally.

  She ran her tongue over her lips, gratified when his eyes followed the movement. “What do you want?”

  “You,” he said gruffly, pulling her against him and kissing her hard.

  If he was trying to make a point, he did it well, his tongue swiping over her lips, demanding entry she willingly gave. As he consumed her mouth, he held her hard against his hips, her body well aware of his hard length pressing into her. Excitement and yearning filled her veins, a liquid pulsing desire that spoke of true need and longing for this man. She kissed him back with everything she had, ignoring the warnings that tried to intrude.

  Suddenly a loud car horn sounded, and she jumped back. “Get a room!” a man yelled out the window of a car that had pulled up the ramp of the parking garage. She and Scott were blocking the driver from leaving.

  Certain she was blushing, she stepped to the side and waved. “Sorry,” she called toward the car’s open window as Scott joined her, laughing.

  They didn’t discuss the moment outside the garage or the words he’d spoken, and Meg was grateful. Her head was spinning as it was, and she needed time to unwind and just be, something Scott seemed to sense.

  Once they arrived at her apartment, they stopped at the mailboxes downstairs, and she pulled out the stack of letters and a bulky soft package that barely fit into the box.

  Scott waited while she packed up a few more casual tops and other things she’d forgotten before rejoining him. “I’m just going to look through the mail here, so I only take what I need. I have my checkbook so I can mail out any bills I don’t do online.”

  “Take your time.”

  She sorted junk mail from bills, tossing the former into the trash. Her eye caught on the package, and she picked it up, looking for a return address. “Huh.”

  “What is it?”
Scott asked.

  “I don’t know.” She grabbed a scissor from a drawer in the kitchen and cut straight across the top. She turned it upside down and shrieked as a small baby doll, the head separated from the body, fell onto the table.

  Meg stared, unable to believe what she was seeing.

  “Holy shit,” Scott muttered. “Don’t touch it.” He grabbed her and pulled her back, away from the doll.

  Shaking, Meg glanced up at him. “He’s lost his mind,” she whispered.

  “He’s not going to get near you or the baby,” he promised, wrapping his arm around her and leading her away from the counter and the offending package.

  “Let me just call someone to come pick this up and dust for prints. I don’t expect to turn up anything, but maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  Meg didn’t reply. She couldn’t. She was too nauseous and scared to even try. This time, a friend of Scott’s from the force arrived, not a cop he didn’t know. The man took more interest in Meg and her case, and they processed the doll for evidence, but like Scott, he didn’t hold out much hope for prints.

  Through it all, Scott held her hand or wrapped her in his protective embrace, and she didn’t think it made her weak to accept his comfort. Mike wanted to kill her baby. No way would she let it happen. Neither, she believed, would Scott, and that was the only thing that kept her marginally sane.

  A very long while later, they returned to Scott’s house. She still didn’t speak, and he didn’t push, which she appreciated. His steady presence was all she needed.

  He locked up the house and set the alarm before joining her in the bedroom. She’d already washed up, changed into a nightie, and climbed into bed. Scott slid in beside her, pulling her tight against his hard body, holding her until she fell into a fitful sleep.

  * * *

  The beginning of the week passed slowly, the damned baby doll never far from her thoughts. Scott offered to stay home with her, but she insisted he go to work and get used to his new job and let the guys see him pulling his weight as boss. He needed to do that for himself and for Tyler, and Meg didn’t want to grow to rely on him any more than she already did. The house was alarmed, Rick sat outside, and Meg was as safe as possible. For now.

  By the time Wednesday arrived, Meg was edgy from a combination of boredom and angry frustration. Mike had made her a prisoner in Scott’s house, unable to live her life, and she resented him for that. The Ashtons had invited Meg to meet at their Palm Beach country club. She explained she was bringing Scott as her friend and as her bodyguard because she wanted them to understand just how serious a threat their son posed to her and her baby. She pressed her hand against her growing belly protectively, nervous now that she had to leave the safety of the house.

  She dressed in a pair of knit leggings and matching top, a gray and white outfit that was true maternity wear. It seemed as if her small belly had popped overnight, her baby making its presence well and truly known. A flutter of excitement filled her along with a healthy dose of trepidation. The thought of a baby was way different than the reality, and now she’d get a feel for how Scott would react when he noticed her body’s changes.

  He’d asked her not to give up on him, and she’d felt the intensity and seriousness in his tone and his actions. Ever since Sunday night, he’d been back to the Scott who’d barreled his way into her life and made her the center of his world. She just didn’t know if it would last, and she didn’t need the added emotional stress.

  Scott drove them north to Palm Beach, where the Ashtons lived, and the long ride passed in tense silence. The tension wasn’t between her and Scott, however; it was Meg’s nerves that had completely overtaken her. It didn’t help when they pulled up to the front of the club, an imposing structure with white pillars and lush palm trees surrounding the building. She felt way out of her league.

  Valets were waiting to take their car. Scott accepted the ticket before walking around the car, toward her. He always took her breath away, and today was no different. He’d showered and shaved, so not only did he look good, he smelled delicious, his musky scent calling to her body and arousing her despite the time and place.

  He’d dressed up in a pair of black slacks and a pale blue long-sleeve button-down dress shirt. Blue was clearly his favorite color, and it had quickly become hers because of how the color set off his gorgeous eyes. He also wore a black sport jacket, his holstered gun hidden at his side. Though she hated the idea of the weapon, she felt so much better knowing he was with her and armed. She didn’t want to think the older couple would set her up by bringing Mike, but anything was possible. Mike was tracking her or following her somehow, and today’s meeting wouldn’t go unnoticed. Her stomach flipped painfully at the thought.

  “Are you okay? You didn’t say a word on the drive up,” Scott said, his big hand cupping her elbow as he joined her.

  “No,” she said honestly. “But I have to do this.” She pulled in a deep breath of air.

  “Well, you’re not alone.” He pressed his forehead to hers, the gesture both tender and intimate, and her entire body flooded with warmth and heat.

  “I know.” She pulled back and managed a smile to reassure him. “Let’s get this over with.”

  He studied her face, as if making sure she really was ready, before nodding. “Okay.”

  A little while later, introductions complete, they were seated at a small round table, facing the older couple. Lydia seemed nervous, which ironically put Meg more at ease.

  “Thank you for meeting with us,” Walter said. He had gray hair and, now that she allowed herself to really look at him, kind eyes.

  Meg swallowed hard. “You’re welcome.”

  Lydia leaned forward in her seat. “How are you feeling?” she asked Meg.

  “I’m fine. I was pretty lucky early on. The morning sickness wasn’t that bad, and now I’m feeling good.”

  The older woman nodded. “That’s good.” She paused before speaking. “I wanted so badly to carry a child.” She smiled, but her eyes appeared sad. “It wasn’t meant to be for us, but we were lucky enough to be able to adopt.”

  Meg didn’t know what to say, so she remained silent. Beside her but beneath the table, Scott reached over and clasped her hand in his. He always knew when to offer silent support, as if he could read her mind or her moods.

  “I’ve always been hands-on with children’s charities, and it made sense to me to adopt a baby that not everyone else would want.” Lydia wrapped her heavily jeweled fingers around a cup of hot tea, as if needing the warmth. “Mike had fetal alcohol effects,” she explained. “We didn’t know what the impact would be on him long term, but we thought we were equipped to handle it.”

  As if sensing she needed his strength, Walter reached over and took his wife’s hand away from the cup, covering it with his own. Meg watched them, surprised. She hadn’t expected a loving couple, and both her heart and her mind told her this wasn’t a performance for her sake. The affection between them was real.

  “I take it Mike was … more than you anticipated?” Meg asked gently.

  Lydia’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded. “He didn’t have the physical problems sometimes associated with a mother who drinks, but he had the behavioral issues. As time went on, things got worse. And with the inherited addictive tendencies, when he started drinking at a young age and hanging out with the wrong kids…” She shook her head. “We tried counseling, out treatment, in treatment…” She trailed off, her voice catching.

  “I had no idea,” Meg said. “When I met Mike, I didn’t notice anything wrong. He was working construction. I met his friends… There were no warning signs. Until he lost his job, and then he changed.”

  She recalled that night, the first display of temper, and she shuddered. He hadn’t hit her then. In fact, he’d never laid a hand on her until she’d told him about the baby, but the sudden shift in his mood had been terrifying.

  “Losing a job is something that happens often, I’m sorry to say,
” Walter said.

  “He did get another one quickly, so I didn’t think much of it. Except he was laid off pretty fast from there too.” Meg took a sip of water. “He used to say you wouldn’t help him because he wouldn’t be the person you wanted him to be, that your expectations were too high. Then again, he found my expectations too high, and all I wanted him to do was pay his share of the rent and come home at night instead of partying with his friends.”

  Scott stiffened beside her, clearly not happy with her replaying of her past.

  “It’s not your fault,” Walter said. “My son is good at manipulative behavior and getting what he wants from people.” He met his wife’s gaze with a sad nod.

  “This is all well and good, but we need to figure out how to get Mike to back off and leave Meg alone. He’s threatened to help her get rid of the baby, and he just sent a beheaded doll as a warning in the mail,” Scott said, his angry tone reflecting his frustration.

  “Oh my. I’m so sorry.” Lydia shook her head, unable to meet Meg’s gaze. “What can we do?”

  “From what Mike has said, this is all about money. Just assure him that if he signs the papers relinquishing his rights to the baby, you won’t cut him off. That will take the edge off his anger and get him to back off and leave Meg alone.”

  Meg knew it wasn’t a guarantee, but she agreed with Scott it might be a start.

  “I’m sorry but we can’t,” Walter said.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Can’t? Or won’t?” Scott asked the older man, disappointed for Meg’s sake that the last twenty minutes of understanding and kindness had still led to disappointment.

  “Scott—” Meg said in warning.

  “No, he’s entitled to his opinion. We’ve heard it all before,” Walter said.

  “Have you ever dealt with an addict?” Lydia asked.

  Meg shook her head.

  “Well, it’s simple. We can’t enable Mike in order to ensure good behavior. It doesn’t work, it won’t last, and in the end, more trouble will come down the road. You’re asking me to keep paying him, which will only feed his addiction. And I promise you, it won’t keep you safe,” Walter explained, and in that moment, he appeared older than he had on first meeting. When speaking of his son’s problems, the lines in his face, the extreme sadness, were more pronounced.