by Erika Kelly
Collapsing beside her, he shut his eyes and let his breathing come under control.
He loved her.
Loved his daughter.
And there wasn’t a damn thing that would keep him from them.
While Beckett flipped the French toast, Posie sat on the floor with her dolls. Beside them, Ollie ate his breakfast. He smiled when he realized that the soundtrack of his life had become the crunch of kibble and the rambling dialogue of his daughter and her dolls.
“Come give Mommy a hug.” Coco breezed into the kitchen, looking gorgeous in a wine-red dress that accentuated the sexy flare of her hips.
“I want to go with you.” Posie got up. “You said I could.”
“And you are. Grandma’s going to bring you by later today.”
“Why can’t I go with you and Beckett right now?”
Good question. Oddly, they still hadn’t fully embraced the idea of him parenting. In spite of how close they’d all become, he still took on the role of guest more than father.
When he thought of being alone with her—being fully responsible for her—his muscles clenched.
But he could do this. He’d been doing it.
Sliding the spatula under the toast, he dropped it onto a plate. On his way to the table, he said, “Come on and eat.”
Abandoning her dolls on the floor, Posie hoisted herself onto the bench seat.
He squirted syrup on it. “I was going to help your mom out, but how about I stay home with you this morning, and then we can both go over there this afternoon?” He cut a look to Coco to see how she felt about the idea.
He loved the moment her hesitation broke into a slow, blossoming grin. She trusted him with her daughter. His confidence wavered, but he wouldn’t succumb. He wouldn’t fall into that dark hole.
I got this.
“I could do that?” Posie sounded like it was some great treat.
“Absolutely.”
“Yay.” She stood up on the seat and flung herself into his arms. “Mommy, mommy, I get to be with Beckett today.”
Her enthusiasm snagged Ollie’s attention, so the kitchen was filled with the sounds of barking and shouting, and it all filled him up with an unspeakable joy.
“Okay, my little fairy princess. It’s you and me today.”
Coco stood off to the side, just a few yards from the ballroom entrance, and took in her festival.
The room was packed, and the scent of warm chocolate from the fountain in the center filled the air. Each chocolatier had gone all-out in creating an attention-drawing booth, resulting in a brisk business. She watched as they engaged with the guests, explaining their processes and offering samples. Everyone had prettily wrapped bags for sale.
“There you are.” Gigi rushed over and wrapped her in her arms. “I can’t believe you did this. It’s amazing.”
“It is. I’m so happy right now.”
She pulled away. “Where’s Posie and Beckett?”
“They went for a bike ride, so they won’t be here till a little later.” She sounded calm and rational, but only because if she shared her concerns she’d flip out. And she wasn’t going to do that in the middle of her chocolate festival.
“Is this his first time alone with her?”
Leave it to Gigi to read her so well. “He’s been alone with her at home, but he’s never taken her out of the house.” Posie could be stubborn and impulsive. If she heard the ice cream truck cruising around the town green, she might go racing after it, darting out into the street.
“You’re not used to relying on anybody.” Gigi rubbed her arm. “It’s just a bike ride. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I want ice cream.”
Beckett lowered the kickstand and swung a leg over his bike. His daughter gazed up at him with an assessing look. She was clever, this one. Liked to push him, see how much she could get away with.
Yeah, well, I might be new to this, but I’m not stupid. “With all the chocolate you’re going to have at the festival, I’d rather we just get a drink.” Which is why we stopped here in the first place.
He’d been surprised to learn she didn’t have a bike, so he’d gone ahead and bought her one. Since her mom didn’t have one either, he’d bought a set of three.
He hoped Coco wouldn’t mind. He almost always checked with her first, but he wasn’t about to bother her during the festival. Besides, a bike was pretty harmless.
“But I want ice cream.”
“Well, which do you want more? Ice cream right now or chocolate at the festival?”
She didn’t look happy, but she conceded. “Chocolate.”
And I was worried about this parenting gig.
I got this.
It’s much easier than I thought.
The rumble of wheels on concrete sent a signal of alarm racing down his spine. A group of skateboarders whizzed by, so close he felt the breeze. He grabbed Posie’s arm, yanking her out of their way. “Watch it,” he barked, while lifting her up. Jesus. They could’ve mowed her down. “You okay, sweetheart?”
She looked shaken. “They’re bad boys. Very, very bad.”
A woman rushed out of the coffee shop wearing a Calamity Joe’s apron. “That was a close call. You okay, Posie?”
His little girl nodded, tightening her hold on his neck.
“They shut down the skate park this summer to make some improvements,” the woman said. “So, those kids are everywhere. The mayor’s barred them from public spaces, but they don’t pay attention to anything.”
“Good to know. We were going to stop for a drink, but I think we’ll just head home. We’ve got to get to the festival anyhow.”
“Oh, come on in,” the woman said. “She’s had a scare. I’ll whip up her favorite vanilla frappé.”
“Can I, Beckett? Please?”
When her eyes sparkled like that, he couldn’t refuse her anything. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”
The woman smiled and headed back inside.
Posie wriggled to get free. With the skate boarders gone, he set her down.
“Take this off.” She tugged at the strap of her helmet.
He’d had a hell of a time getting her to wear it since it “scrunched” her fairy headband.
Pinching the buckle, he pulled it off and set it on her handlebar. “Come on.” He reached for her hand, and the feel of it sent a rush of protectiveness through him. This kid made him a mess of emotions.
“Can I have chocolate milk?”
“You’re cute, but I wasn’t born a grown man. I was five once, too. The answer’s no Miss Chocolate Pants.”
“I’m not wearing pants.”
“That nice lady’s making you a vanilla frappé, so that’s what you’re getting.” He reached for the door.
With a look of horror, she patted the top of her head. “My crown.” She yanked her hand out of his and took off running.
“Posie.” Right then, he heard the gravelly sound of wheels on pavement. The skateboarders were back. He bolted after her, but it was too late because the pack of boys swarmed the sidewalk and swallowed his little girl up.
He’d lost sight of her.
Fuck. He pushed through just as one of the teens fell down hard, his skateboard shooting out and slamming into a garbage can.
In the chaos of his thundering heart and the punishing white noise in his brain, he found Posie laying on the ground. Wide-eyed, she blinked at him, confused, terrified.
He knelt beside her. “You okay, sweetheart?” Without looking up from her, he said, “Call nine-one-one. Now.”
“Already did,” someone said. “On their way.”
She’s okay. She’s just stunned. But he wouldn’t move her, just in case she’d hurt her back, neck…brain.
No. She’s going to be fine.
My daughter will be fine.
In that moment of not knowing if his daughter would be all right, he became acutely aware of everything. Oddly, he smelled coffee, the
hot sun baking concrete, and the rubber soles of sneakers.
Those frail shoulders lifted off the sidewalk, as she tried to get up.
She’s okay.
He let out a harsh breath. Thank Christ.
She got knocked down. No big deal. “Hang tight, sweetheart. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
But she didn’t listen. Just as she sat up, her eyes rolled back in her head, and her body went limp. In an instant, her skull smacked against the pavement.
His heart stopped beating. “Posie? Honey?”
Nothing. She lay so still, those delicate eyelids shut.
Jesus Christ. Posie.
I lost her.
She’s gone.
Pain engulfed him, the harrowing loss amplified by the memory of his sister laying in this exact position.
His perfect little girl…gone.
A siren split the air, bright lights spun, and then paramedics came. With a flurry of brisk, efficient movement they strapped a neck brace on her, laid her out on a clean, white stretcher, and loaded her into the back of the ambulance.
“You coming?” a paramedic asked.
Beckett stood there, locked in pure, raw pain.
“Sir, you coming?”
“Yes. Of course.” He forced himself to follow the young woman, climb into the back, and reach for Posie’s delicate, lifeless hand.
The door slammed shut, the ambulance took off.
What have I done?
The curtain whipped closed, and the doctor entered the small, dark cubicle.
Beckett’s pulse spiked. “Is she going to be okay?”
He didn’t miss the way the doctor looked at him, like she was worried about his mental health, but he didn’t care what he sounded like. He needed answers.
“She looks good to me.” The doctor sounded cheerful. “I don’t see signs of a concussion.” She smiled, pulling a pen out of the top pocket of her lab coat. “I think she just got rattled.” Edging between Beckett and the hospital bed, she reached for Posie’s hand. “How you feeling, sweetheart?”
His daughter—fuck—she couldn’t speak. She lay there spooked, like her mind was trapped in an uncooperative body.
This girl who normally talked all the damn time couldn’t string words together.
The pen turned out to be a flashlight, and the doctor checked Posie’s eyes. “You hit your head pretty hard, huh?” Sliding it back into her pocket, she moved to the end of the bed. “Everything looks great, but we’re going to keep her here a few more hours, so we can monitor her. If you can just sit tight a few minutes, we’ll get her transferred to her own room.”
A shudder rocked through him. “It’s cold in here. Do you have a thicker blanket?”
Again, that fucking look. Like the doctor was wondering if he was going to lose his shit. “Sure, we can get her another blanket. I’ll take care of that right now.” She lifted the curtain, ready to take off.
“Hang on. Why isn’t she talking? What’s wrong with her?”
“Oh, I think she’s had a scare. Being knocked down by those big boys, the neck brace, the ambulance ride…” She smiled at Posie. “Your mommy’s on her way, okay?” And then she disappeared.
Beckett drew the lone chair closer and reached for Posie’s hand. She barely acknowledged him. This isn’t my daughter. She looked so weak, like her spirt had left her body.
He knew there was more going on here than being “rattled.” Holding her limp hand, he lowered his forehead to the bed. Fear made him wired and hyperalert, but he needed to calm down.
Please bring her back to me.
Please.
I can’t lose her.
Please.
I’ll do anything if you’ll just bring her back.
“Dammit, dammit, dammit.” How had this happened?
When he closed his eyes, he went dizzy, the room tilted, and he didn’t know whether he was twelve or twenty-nine. The blanket smelled the same, the little hand was the same size, shape, and weight, and the panic holding him hostage…
He’d felt exactly like this waiting for Ari to wake up from her coma.
But she never had.
She’d died.
His sister had fucking died.
Please don’t take my daughter. I swear to God, I will be a better man.
The idea that he’d struggled to make a decision between his career and this perfect little girl…that he could be so fucking selfish…disgusted him.
I’m just like my mother.
“I’m looking for my daughter. Posie Cavanaugh?” He heard Coco’s voice down the hallway. “This one? Okay, thank you.”
He lifted his head at the same moment she whisked into the room. “Posie, baby.”
“Murmma.” For the first time since landing on the pavement, the little girl grew animated but didn’t lift her arms.
She remained inert.
Something’s wrong.
“Hey, baby,” Coco pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Mommy’s here. I heard you hit your head.”
Posie just stared at her mom, eyes filled with fear. It was as if, with her mom present, she was allowed to fall apart.
Coco smiled at her, radiating a calm confidence. Everything’s one-hundred-percent all right. She smoothed the hair off Posie’s forehead. “I heard you got a couple of stitches, my beautiful, brave girl. Do they hurt?”
Posie’s eyes welled with tears, but she shook her head, No.
“That’s good, baby. Mommy’s here now, and I’m going to take care of everything.” Coco kissed her again, her lips lingering at her daughter’s temple. Touching his hand to get his attention, she took a few steps away from the bed. “How is she?” She whispered it, like they were in this together.
He was so disgusted with himself, he just looked away. How could he face her? In her five years on this earth, Posie hadn’t had a single accident. Not once had she gone to the hospital.
Until me.
“Oh, come here.” She wrapped her arms around his waist.
But he remained stiff. Couldn’t tolerate her comfort. He wanted to be anywhere but here.
She let go of him and took a step back, and he ignored the hurt in her eyes. “What did the doctor say?”
“That she’s fine. Just rattled.” Each word came out like he’d pried it out of his throat.
“Well, that’s great news.” She said it to Posie, moving back to her side. “How do you feel, baby?”
“Hur, Murmma.” His little girl tried to speak but only jibberish came out.
Beckett swiped the perspiration off his forehead, and then dragged his palm down his shorts. The doctor hadn’t known Posie before this, so she didn’t understand that something was very wrong.
She should be scheduling tests. MRI, X-rays…she needed to do something more than a couple stitches to the back of Posie’s head, dammit. Jesus, he was climbing out of his skin. He swept out of the room, glancing right. Nothing but an empty hallway and curtain-covered cubicles. He turned left and spotted the doctor at the nurse’s station. He took off. “Excuse me. Doctor Anand.”
She flicked a gaze at him, before finishing her conversation with the nurse. As he neared, she turned to him with a smile meant to appease. “What can I do for you, Mr. O’Neill?” She stepped away from the desk.
“What you saw in there isn’t normal. That girl’s full of life, always talking. When her mom came in just now, Posie tried to talk to her, but she’s not making sense.”
“I know it’s upsetting, but she doesn’t have a concussion, and the good news is that she got a hit to the back of her head, not the side. Trust me, though, it’s perfectly normal. Every child goes flat for about thirty to forty minutes after banging her head, so sit tight and she’ll be back to normal soon.”
“And if not? Could she have permanent brain damage?”
“Given the nature of the accident, the answer is no. But we’ll keep an eye on her for changes in her behavior, okay? All she needs right now is to rest and be loved by h
er parents.”
She was wrong, but he thanked her and headed back to his daughter. When he lifted the curtain, he saw Coco carrying on a one-sided conversation—handling her daughter a thousand times better than he had—and he let it fall.
Coco’s got this.
They don’t need me.
His head spun with images of the teenagers overtaking Posie, of her laying on that sidewalk, the fear in her eyes as she lay in a hospital bed not speaking.
What if she’s like this forever?
Fear spread like a cold, sickly fluid.
I’m not cut out for this. I’m just not.
I’m a fucking menace.
He couldn’t get the sound of the skateboards out of his head. The blaze of panic as he’d broken into a run.
And once again that memory dropped into his head, Ari in her navy blue snowsuit against the white snow. Her eyes closed, her skin so pale he could see tiny blue veins just beneath the surface. The image merged with Posie on the concrete.
He lowered his head, going dizzy.
What had he done?
What the fuck have I done?
Half an hour later, Beckett leaned against the window in Posie’s private room, watching Coco chat quietly with her. Just as the doctor promised, the little girl had returned to her normal self within twenty minutes.
But he couldn’t seem to feel anything. Not even relief. It was like his body was in the room, but his mind was hovering near the ceiling. “I’m going to let everyone know she’s all right.”
He had to get out of there. Anxiety was driving him out of his mind.
Heading toward the waiting room, he watched as Tyler and Joss Cavanaugh, Cassian, Gigi…the whole family got up from the couches and stared at him in anticipation.
“She’s good. She’s talking.”
“Oh, thank God,” Joss said.
As one, they moved past him down the hallway toward Posie’s room.
He felt like he was inside a fishbowl looking out. His chest ached, and it hurt to draw a full breath.
His phone vibrated, and when he pulled it out of his pocket, he nearly dropped it because his hands were shaking.