Under The Willows (Jackson Bay #1)

by Ciara Shayee

  Shaking my head, I tune back into the conversation in time to hear Arlo ask for a bedtime story. Even from my spot a few feet away, there’s no missing the way Kellan’s shoulders tighten, his back ramrod straight. I don’t know why a bedtime story is a trigger for him, but I can make an educated guess. Before he has to say ‘no,’ I make my presence known.

  “It’s late, kiddo.” Kellan twists just his head to face me. His desolate sigh and the way he hangs his head is gutting. “No story tonight, okay? You need to get lots of sleep.”

  Arlo is too tired to fight me tonight. He huffs, but wriggles around to get comfy and yawns. “Night, Kellan. Night, Momma. Love you.”

  “I love you, kiddo.”

  Kellan doesn’t move while I cross the room to plant a kiss on Arlo’s forehead. As I straighten up, our eyes meet over my son and I hope he can see my willingness to support him and be a shoulder for him to lean on in mine.

  God knows I can see the loss and confusion in his.

  *

  The log crackles and pops as I carefully drop it into the pit before breathing out a contented sigh and settling myself in my seat. Kellan flashes me a small smile as our eyes find each other. “Is it weird I’m relieved today is over?”

  “Not at all,” he says with a snort, taking a big mouthful of his beer before adding, “I’m surprised you’re still standing, to be honest. I was ready to kick your parents out and crawl into bed when my place was finally move-in ready.”

  Nostalgia tugs my lips up into a smile. “I think I remember…it was really hot, like today.”

  “It was,” he agrees. Like today, the day my family helped Kellan move into his house was the hottest day so far that year.

  “Didn’t Bass fall in the pool?”

  Kellan chuckles, nodding. “He did. Carson was fuming because he’d had too much to drink to drive him home, so he had to walk Bass back to your place—uh, your mom and dad’s place—to get changed.”

  Smiling, I shake my head and tip it back, gazing up at the stars. I was twelve when Kellan finally completed his house. My memories of the day he moved in are hazy from lack of use, but clear enough that I can still picture my dad’s exasperation when Sebastian hauled himself out of the pool after falling in while showing off with Kellan’s younger brother, Lucas.

  “You did an amazing job with that house,” I finally breathe when a gentle breeze blows the cobwebs from my mind.

  “Thanks.” Kellan’s inability to accept praise of any sort makes me grin. He reaches up with his free hand to rub the back of his head, his ears turning pink.

  Hesitating for a moment, I tell myself to just take the chance. “It’s still the same yellow, isn’t it?”

  I know I’ve hit a nerve when I see his shoulders lock into place, tension rippling up his spine as his jaw ticks. I wait with bated breath, knowing it was risky, wondering if I’ve pushed him too far—

  “Yes,” he whispers roughly. “I don’t…I can’t change it.”

  When Kellan completed the house, the exterior was painted a crisp, clean white. A handful of years later, he, Sebastian, and Dad spent an entire weekend painting it a cheerful, sunny yellow.

  All because it would put a smile on the face of a little girl with her daddy’s grass-green eyes.

  Sixteen

  Kellan

  “To Kellan!” The small group cheers, gathered on the front lawn outside number 13, raising their plastic cups in the air.

  I shake my head with a grin.

  Finally, finally, the house is done. As everyone meanders inside with their drinks, clapping me on the back and pulling me into congratulatory hugs on their way, I take a moment to just soak it all in.

  The hot August sun beats down on my back as I blow out a big breath, displacing my floppy mess of hair which is long overdue for a cut, and think back to the run-down piece of crap I bought a little over two years ago for a steal of a price.

  Two long years, over twenty-eight months of back-breaking, soul-destroying, frustrating-as-all-hell work later, I have a beautiful home fit for a family.

  My family, I hope.

  As if she knows I’m thinking about her, my phone lights up and rings with a familiar tone. My lips twist up into a bigger smile as I answer the call, my eyes moving over the letters I painted on the mailbox just a few minutes ago.

  The Pattersons.

  “Shan, it’s all done.”

  “What’s done?”

  Frowning, I move to rake a hand through my hair before realizing both my hands are occupied. “The house, Shannon. The house is finished. It’s all signed off and ready for us to move in.

  “Oh, right, of course.”

  For a moment, I’m nervous, then confidence takes over. I know she’s not a hundred percent sold on this move. She likes Utah too much to be as excited as I am about our fresh start, but it’ll be worth it, she’ll see. And it’s not like Jackson Bay will be totally new to her; she’s been out to visit plenty of times. The plan was always to wait until the house was ready and then Shannon would move here so we can finally start our life together in one place.

  So we can finally start a family.

  I’ve always wanted kids. The more, the better. I’ve been wary the last couple of years, what with us living apart and the house still being a work in progress, but there’s nothing stopping us now. Growing up as one of two kids in the house, I often wondered what it would be like to have more siblings. My best friend growing up, Alfie, is one of four kids and I was always a bit jealous of his loud, boisterous house.

  This place, this house which will hopefully become our home right here on the beach, would be perfect for three or four kids. Three or four little Pattersons Shannon and I can teach to swim in the pool and watch grow up on the sand. I just need her to realize its potential, too.

  Rubbing the back of my neck, I gaze at myself in the mirror and swallow a roar of frustration.

  I was so foolish, my ideas of what life would be like, rose-tinted. Had I known then what I know now, I never would have been so cocky.

  I’ll never regret the choices that brought me to Jackson Bay. I’ll never regret marrying Shannon or wasting years of my life with her. Those choices, those years, gave me the light of my life.

  I just didn’t realize I’d be plunged into darkness so soon.

  After spending too long staring at my reflection, I sigh and leave the bathroom. In the kitchen, I find Piper.

  Humming along to a tune only she can hear, she sways her hips and stacks rinsed glasses on the rack to dry. Her long, pink-red hair tumbles over her shoulders and back, the very ends teasing the curve of her ass. The flowy black skirt she pulled on when the sun dipped low dusts the hardwood and offsets the clean white of her off-the-shoulder shirt. Her clothes are bland in color, but her innate vibrancy bleeds into the atmosphere around her anyway.

  My chest aches as I watch her, my eyes burning with a familiar threat. She’s so effortlessly beautiful, so serene.

  So the opposite of everything I am.

  As a boy, I was taught by society that tears and emotion are for girls. People don’t think that way as much now, and it’s more acceptable for men to show emotion, but it’s still not something I’m completely comfortable with myself. I once prided myself on being a strong man.

  But that was before my whole world imploded. The incessant ringing in my ears blares louder, every beep making my head pound, until—

  “Hey, it’s okay.”

  Soft hands cup my face, warmth brushing my chest. Piper slowly leans into me until her forehead bumps my sternum.

  “I’m here, Kellan,” she whispers.

  A shudder rushes down my spine as my trembling hands reach for her hips. I hold her too tight, but she doesn’t complain. She simply holds me as memories rush through my mind on a bruising loop.

  Today has been amazing. There’s nothing like that feeling of pride when a child trusts you enough to fall asleep on you,
and Piper’s boys had no qualms about crawling onto my lap and pressing me to tell them stories about my childhood as they drifted off.

  It’s been…peaceful. Happy, and full of smiles.

  But now, in the quiet of the night, nostalgia and loss rise in a debilitating tide of pain that spreads through my chest and pulls memories I’ve shoved to the back of my mind right to the front.

  A wail, a spongy cord, bright green eyes.

  Toothless smiles, sleepless nights, bright green eyes.

  Never-ending giggles, first teeth, first steps, first words, bright green eyes.

  A tiny backpack, matchy-matchy scrunchies and shoes, bright green eyes.

  Those eyes…my eyes in a tiny, heart-shaped face. I’d begun to wonder if I’d ever see that, then she came along. The perfect little girl I’d been dreaming of with my grass-green gaze and her mommy’s sunny blonde curls.

  Those green eyes haunt me.

  My heart thumps harder, a breathless curse escaping me as Piper’s arms slip around my waist to hold me together.

  When she came along, I never thought I’d find myself saying ‘goodbye’ to her.

  A forgotten promise, a grateful sigh, then the screech of brakes.

  “I can’t…Piper…”

  “It’s okay, Kellan. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

  It’s not, though. This isn’t okay. None of it is.

  These memories…I can usually keep them at bay. I have to, or this happens. This is why I run. This is why I hide from my thoughts and why I avoid spending too much time with other people. I’m not normal—not whole.

  Normality slipped away from me six years ago, along with my reason for breathing.

  I need to forget. I need to not feel. Just for a little while. I need…

  Pulling back slightly, I pour every ounce of my pain and need into Piper. She hesitates before her lips move against mine, the taste of indecision strong.

  Please, Piper. Give me this. Make me forget. Distract me, please.

  I can feel the moment she surrenders. Her hands grip my shirt tighter, her kisses more purposeful. All the air rushes from the room, our breaths quickly turning into panted declarations.

  You feel so good.

  I need you.

  Gripping the backs of her thighs, I hoist her feet off the ground and almost smile at her yelp of surprise. She doesn’t stop kissing me as I carry her out of the kitchen and down the hall.

  Laying her out on the bed beneath me is a somewhat surreal experience. Her coy smile makes my heart pound, but when she pulls her lower lip between her teeth and begins peeling her shirt over her head, I’m lost. Every inch of sun-kissed skin calls to me as it’s revealed to my hungry gaze. Lifting herself a little to remove her shirt, she leaves me breathless.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I breathe, lowering myself to taste her everywhere she’ll let me. Sun-warmed and smelling faintly of whatever lotion she uses, Piper tastes like summer and sunshine. Her hands explore my shoulders as I lick, suck, and kiss across her stomach from hip to hip, pausing where the moonlight sneaking through the drapes makes her faded stretch marks shine. Reverent, I kiss those, too, smiling against her skin when she stutters a breathy moan.

  My name.

  It’s my name this beautiful woman is gasping as I move up until my nose brushes the lacy cup of her bra. “Off,” I murmur.

  “Bossy,” she huffs, but her lips are spread in a smile when I glance up with raised eyebrows. When the offending fabric is out of the way, I make sure to give each breast the attention it deserves. By the time I’m done, she’s writhing under me and my dick is about ready to drill a hole in the bed.

  “My turn.”

  I comply as she rolls me over onto my back, groaning when she removes her stretchy skirt in one smooth motion before settling on top of me with a smirk, rolling her hips over mine. “Mean.”

  “Pot, meet Kettle,” she whispers teasingly, slowly unbuttoning my shirt. As she moves lower, perched over my thighs, I remove it and toss it on the floor with her clothes. There’s no doubt that the brush of her palm over my aching dick is anything but on purpose. I thrust up into her touch instinctively, glad she doesn’t seem to mind. Her lip goes back between her teeth, and I never realized how hot I’d find that until now. “Someone’s impatient.”

  “Yeah, well. Someone else has been sauntering around in indecent shorts and a tank top all afternoon,” I grumble half-heartedly, lifting my hips so she can tug down my shorts and briefs.

  Piper’s surprised burst of laughter turns my ears red, but any embarrassment I feel evaporates the second her eyes drop to the part of me that aches for her the most.

  My own hunger is reflected right back at me in the flush of her cheeks and the darkening of her steel gaze.

  Drunk on her, this sinfully gorgeous woman who apparently wants me as much as I want her, I can’t wait any longer. Her panties give way with barely a tug; I catch her gasp in a desperate kiss and lift her hips, sliding into her hot, wet heat with a groan that she swallows and chases with one of her own.

  Perfect. “You’re perfect, Piper. Fffuck, so good.”

  Over and over and over I thrust into her, my eyes unable to stay in one spot for long.

  Lit by the moon, her hair shines as it sways between us. Her breasts prove too much temptation to resist, her head tipping back and a sigh escaping into the air as my lips close around one tight nipple, then the other. I press a kiss to the small tattoo that rests under her right breast—a tree with three small, blue birds resting in the branches, each a little different from the others. One for each of her boys. I didn’t notice it the first time she stripped down to her bikini in front of me, but then I was busy trying to look like I wasn’t gawking like a schoolboy seeing his first porn magazine.

  Flipping her over so she’s between me and the mattress, I catch her gaze for a moment before looking lower, her eyes too intense for me to handle right now.

  It’s the flush spreading over her chest and her panted “It’s never been this good” that breaks me.

  My release barrels down my spine way too quickly, my heart fit to burst clean out of my chest.

  I’m relieved when Piper gasps that she’s about to come a split-second before I can’t hold myself up any longer, my eyes squeezed shut against the sudden onslaught of pleasure as my movements become jerky, my hips slamming against hers and my face burying itself in her hair.

  *

  Lightly trailing her fingertips over my chest, Piper gazes at me with a softness I wasn’t expecting.

  Guilt quickly took the place of pleasure when sense returned and I realized I’d essentially used her as a distraction, but lying here now, with her understanding blanketing me and the soft glow of moonlight making her eyes shine silver, I feel nothing but peace. At least for the moment.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she finally whispers.

  I want to scream ‘no.’ I want to run. I want to hide.

  I just don’t have the energy—the mental or physical energy.

  I’m not twenty-five anymore, and I want to let her in. I know that’s what’s holding her back. My inability to open up has pushed everyone away to at least some degree, but I want to keep her close. If sharing the absolute mess taking up space between my ears will accomplish that, I need to try.

  “I don’t know where to start,” I murmur up at the ceiling.

  “Try the beginning?”

  I don’t know if it’s her gentle tone and gentler touch, the weightlessness of post-orgasm relief, or the cocoon-like ambience in the room, but I want to talk.

  Casting my mind back isn’t something I do often, if I can help it. Memories tend to bring me more pain than comfort and regret is something that goes hand-in-hand with most of my memories. But this is Piper, and Piper isn’t forcing me or putting any pressure on me to open up and spill all my raw emotions over the floor. I know she wouldn’t be angry if I told her ‘no.’
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br />   So, instead of pushing her away, I squeeze her to my chest and enjoy the relief that rushes through me when she shuffles even closer to wrap her arm around my waist, her head resting on my chest.

  “I miss her,” I croak. For a second, I wonder if she knows which ‘her’ I mean.

  “I can’t even imagine what it’s like to lose a child,” she admits, her arm tightening around me.

  Of course she knows.

  I turn my head, pressing my lips against her hair to breathe her in. My throat starts to close up. “She’d love your boys.”

  “Oh, God…” Leaning up to look right into my soul with her eyes brimming with tears, she shakes her head and offers me a faint smile. “They’d adore Willow, Kellan.”

  As usual, my daughter’s name sends a spear of agony right through me.

  “Have we got a name for this precious little one?”

  I grin at the pink-wrapped bundle in my arms. I’m sure the doctor calls every baby ‘precious,’ but in this case, I’m inclined to agree with him. It’s the morning after my daughter arrived and I’m more in love with her every second that passes.

  Glancing at Shannon, who simply smiles tiredly, I breathe a content sigh and look at the doctor. “We do. Willow Belle Patterson.”

  Willow for me, because I love nature themed names, and Belle for Shannon’s grandma, who passed when Shannon was a little girl.

  It’s insane, because I know it’s going to end in more heartbreak, but I let myself conjure images of Willow running along the beach with her favorite yellow soccer ball, Piper’s boys running behind her. It’s easiest to picture her the age she was, but I try to see her as she would be now instead and find that she’s blurry, out of focus.

  “She would have been twelve this year.”

  Willow died nine days before Piper gave birth to Jaxson and Finley. She was just two weeks away from her sixth birthday, the same age the twins are now.

  I can see her schooling the boys, her blonde curls tangling in the salty sea breeze and her bright green eyes alight with joy. She was always smiling, always. Willow would have loved Jaxson, Finley, and Arlo because they were all made of the same stuff—sweetness and mischief and a love of life all rolled into one.