Truth About Love Duet: A beautiful small-town, angst filled, story of love (Legacy World Box Set Book 4)

by Mj Fields

After I lay him down, I pick up Hope. She is feeling better. The doctor talked Ava into giving her a small dose of Tylenol at bedtime so she can sleep, and here I am, taking a chance at waking her up.

  I stand at the window with her snuggled into my chest. “Hey, little princess. I’m gonna take off for a few days, and I don’t know if you’ll notice, but I made you a promise, one I vow to keep, so don’t get upset with me, okay? My leaving is part of the plan to keep my promise.

  “God, Hope, I wish you were mine. I feel like you are. I pray you see me as a father someday, and I will be on my knees, begging the Good Lord to make sure you don’t get your mind twisted like I got mine when I was younger.

  “Ryan, he’s such a good father. Doesn’t matter that he isn’t mine by blood, and it doesn’t matter that you aren’t mine by blood, either. Your father...Well, you’re asleep and will not remember a word I’m saying ‘cause you’re too little, but he and I were not friends. I don’t know much about him, and the majority of what I do know makes me want to kill his ass, but he loved your mom better than I could. He would have raised Chance as his own, too, and he is part of you, so those are three things I can tell you about him that are real and true if you ever ask.” I kiss her head then lay her back down. Then I step back and look at them both. “Love you. Love you both.”

  After that, I can’t stick around and chance seeing Ava. Woman drives me insane in every way possible.

  I pull up to the motel just on the outskirts of town. It’s a shithole, but it’s the kind of place I need.

  I see a white sedan and, although it’s still dark, the man inside is, without a doubt, one of mine.

  I get out of my truck and see the white sedan door open. I nearly fall over when I see Trigger step out and stretch.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask, knowing damn well what he’s doing here.

  “My team needs me. I’m all in.” He throws an arm over my shoulder and pats my back. “Got some time on my hands.” He holds up his left hand, and I shake my head. Trigger lost two fingers on that last explosion. “Plus, I needed to let you know how pissed off I am that you didn’t drag your shattered ass back in and find those fingers before you passed out.”

  I can’t help laughing. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that, man.”

  “Not as sorry as you will be when the old lady gets a hold of you. She much preferred the left-handed shocker to the right,” he says, laughing as he opens the motel room door.

  “What a fucking mess,” I comment as I walk in behind him and toss my bag on one of the two double beds.

  “Damn, are times that tough? This place is a shit hole,” he remarks.

  “You see Raider?” I ask, ignoring his question.

  “Not yet. We’ll have to have a beer when this is done. He’s at Miss A’s place, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s there. Been a long damn time since he’s been able to play with us.”

  “Glad you reached out to him.”

  I nod. “Fucker has skill.”

  “We all do. Don’t you ever forget it.”

  After a couple hours sleep, my phone squawks. Both Trigger and I spring up, and I grab the laptop while he reads the message.

  “Big Daddy has arrived, and I got the girl,” Trigger reads out loud.

  I nod and point at the screen. “See them both.”

  “Let the fun begin.” Trigger tosses me an ear piece, and I put it in.

  We sit and watch as Raider sits across from the girl at the motel across town then unties her hands.

  “Take the hood off if you want, darlin’,” he drawls.

  She does, and then she flies out of her seat at him, arms swinging, yet she makes no contact. He has her arms behind her back, and then she’s on the floor, swearing at him like a sailor.

  He says nothing, not a damn thing. He just sighs and waits until she calms down.

  “You done throwing your fit, darlin’?”

  “What do you want from me!” she screams.

  “It’s simple, really.” He pulls her up and sets her ass back in the chair. “Just want to know what you know.”

  “I know I’m going to make you pay, you fucker!”

  He laughs as he sits across from her, threading his hands behind his neck and crossing one ankle in front of the other. “How you plan on doing that? And please, don’t leave out a detail. Make it sick and twisted. I kind of like it that way.”

  Her face goes blank, and her eyes grow wide. She looks terrified.

  “You ready to start talking, or can I show you just how sick and twisted I can be?”

  Trigger snickers. “I love that son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Shut the fuck up, would ya?” I snap at him.

  “Still haven’t gotten laid, have you?” Trigger laughs.

  I don’t answer.

  All it takes is Raider opening his bag of tricks, and she starts talking. Everything we need, she gives us. I should feel good about it, but for some reason, I don’t.

  “You done good, little darlin’,” Raider says with a wink. “I didn’t even have to hurt you.”

  She covers her face and begins shaking.

  He stands and pulls her up to a standing position, forcing her to look at him. “I’m gonna make sure you’re okay.”

  She looks up at him, nodding frantically. “Please. Please don’t hurt me. I can’t—I won’t survive it, not again.”

  His body stiffens, and he takes in a deep breath. “You want me to make it better now?”

  She nods again. “Please.”

  “All right, then. Let’s you and I get comfortable.” Then he turns around, diverting his eyes from the camera, and switches it off.

  “What do you think is going down right now?” Trigger asks, standing up and grabbing his piece off the nightstand between the beds.

  “As long as he gets her where she’s supposed to be tomorrow, I don’t wanna know. Don’t care.”

  He shoves his gun in his waistband. “We doing this quick, or by the book?”

  “Haven’t decided yet. Let’s see how cooperative he is first. I do know, if it’s him or us, it’s fucking him.”

  Chapter Twenty

  He would never hurt me. — A. Gnuschke- Jones

  Ava

  The kids are a little clingy, which means I have to hold them on my lap in order for them to even allow Logan and Dad to be near them.

  Dad is beside himself. I know what he’s thinking: If I hadn’t kept them here, they would know him. And yes, it hurts that I have done that to him, to them.

  He’s moping while Logan is doing everything he can to get Hope and Chance to notice him. He’s making faces and dancing like a fool to Burning Souls music, which I seem to be able to listen to now without wanting to cry.

  When the kids are down for a nap, Casey calls and asks for a few days off. She sounds horrible, so of course I give her as much time as she needs.

  That will make Luke happy, I think to myself as I walk into the babies’ bedroom where Dad and Logan are rocking the two sleeping babies.

  I feel bad that they have to be asleep to be held. Their pediatrician says it’s completely normal and that they will go through stages like this several times for the first couple years, and then again as teenagers. They are growing, changing, becoming people with personalities. It’s all so very beautiful.

  I’m glad Luke isn’t here to see me calling the doctor. He may not have said anything, but when Hope had a fever, I could tell he thought I was a little crazy.

  Logan and Dad cook dinner, and I pretend it is good. Thank God Tessa can cook, and Logan has the dining hall. Otherwise, they would both starve.

  When everyone is in bed, I take a picture of the kids sleeping and send it to Luke with a message, thanking him for giving us this time. I also let him know that Casey isn’t here. I figured that would make him happy.

  He doesn’t reply.

  The next day is a little better. Dad and Logan are able to hold the babies as long as I am in eye shot.
/>
  Is it sick that I kind of love that they need me around? Like, I get some sort of invisible gold star to put on my imaginary motherhood crown because they seem to think I am the bomb.

  I laugh at my own thought as Dad walks over and sits next to me.

  “They sleep a lot more than you did,” he remarks.

  I smile. “They’re growing.”

  “They are,” he says, looking around.

  I recognize that look. It’s a look that, although I rarely saw growing up, it is one you can’t ignore.

  He stands up, walks to the windows, and looks out them, shoving one hand in his pocket and the other through his hair.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Don’t ask,” Logan whispers. “Don’t. Ask.”

  I ignore him, getting up and walking to the windows to stand next to my dad, repeating, “What?”

  “Ava, I’m not that old that I didn’t hear your brother warn you not to ask. I suggest you heed that warning.”

  “What?” I push.

  After a long pause, he looks over at me. “Do you wanna build a snowman?”

  “Do I, what?” I laugh.

  He ignores me and turns around. “Logan, do you wanna build a snowman?”

  “No, Dad, I really have no interest in building a—”

  “Tough shit. Let’s build a fucking snowman.” He throws his hands in the air. “It’s Christmastime, and—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, here we go,” Logan mumbles.

  “Look at me,” Dad says as he pretty much walks in a circle. “I’m getting older; if I wanna build a fucking snowman with my kids so that my grand-kids can see the damn thing, and maybe, by the grace of God, end up liking me—”

  “They love you, Dad,” I interrupt his rant.

  “Love me? They don’t even know me, and it sure as hell isn’t because I don’t want them to.” He walks toward the elevator, shoves his feet in his boots, grabs his coat, and then looks back at us. “Get your shit. We’re building a fucking snowman right out there on that...brick whatever the hell it is. It’s Christmastime, and we...we are building a fucking snowman.”

  Logan looks like he is about to explode. He’s pissed at Dad. No, he’s pissed at me.

  I laugh. “What? I’m not the one pushing Christmas down your throat.”

  “You’re the reason he’s going over-fucking-board this year.”

  I am shocked, hurt. No, I am pissed.

  I try to make light of the situation. “It’s a snowman, Logan.”

  “No, Ava, it’s not a snowman. Go on Google Earth and type in his address. Swear to fuck, you can see all them damn lights from space without zooming in. The nativity scene has grown—those barns are almost life-size—and I’m telling you, if he asks me one more time to do the living nativity scene during the town’s Christmas celebration, I am going to snap.”

  I can’t help chuckling.

  “It’s gonna be a good time,” Dad says, narrowing his eyes at Logan.

  “There is no way I am gonna stand there, dressed like a shepherd in front of the entire town. Do you know how embarrassing that would be?”

  Dad smirks. “Piper’s gonna be an angel.”

  “Piper is three.” Logan rolls his eyes. “I build this snowman, you gonna back off the nativity nonsense?”

  “Deal,” Dad says. “Now, let’s go.”

  We stand at the window, looking out at the snowman as we drink the hot cocoa Logan made, which took longer to make than it took to build that one little, pathetic snowman.

  “It’s nice, right?” Dad asks, smiling.

  Logan and I look at each other, and without second thought, we bust up laughing. We laugh so hard my stomach hurts. We laugh so hard that, even though he started out being annoyed, Dad is now laughing, too.

  “Pathetic,” I admit, wiping away tears, ones caused by laughter, and God they feel good.

  “Well...” Dad begins.

  “Well?” Logan asks, wiping his tears.

  “Well, we built a fucking snowman. The kids will see it. Maybe, with Photoshop, you can make something that looks like a damn Christmas card out of it.” He shakes his head. “Then I’m gonna kick the shit out of that ugly-ass thing.”

  We all laugh. Then Dad pulls us into a group hug.

  “You have to come home, Ava. They deserve a Link’s Christmas, and I need you there to help me torment your brother.”

  “Okay,” I surrender.

  “Wait, what?” he gasps.

  “Okay, Dad, we’ll be there.”

  I am caught up in the excitement that is my father’s love for Christmas and family. I am caught up in the hope that they, my children, will be able to get as much joy out of his enthusiasm. And I am caught up in the hope that they won’t be affected by my...not mistake; they are not a mistake. They are love. They are home. They are my miracles.

  “They’re my Christmas miracles, Daddy.”

  “That they are, Ava.” He smiles and takes in a deep breath as if it’s the first he has taken in a year.

  “Dad, I need to tell you something,” I whisper as tears well up in my eyes. “And I’m so sorry—”

  “No sorrys, Ava. There is no need to apologize for your Christmas miracles.”

  “Chance,” I sigh out.

  “I know, Ava, I know.”

  I sit in bed, looking at my phone. Luke never messaged back, and no, he doesn’t have to, and I should not be sending him this text, but I want to.

  I told Dad and Logan about Chance. I told them he is yours.

  I cried when I told my dad, and my daddy held me, and it felt good.

  I stare at the phone forever. There is no reply.

  He’s angry at me. For what?

  I lie down and look up at the ceiling, wanting to ask God if I did the right thing, and ask him to explain to T why I made this decision. I can’t hide them. I won’t. And even though I’m pretty sure I sent Luke away, and he’s running again, I can do this on my own.

  I hold on to the fact that he’s not one to break a promise, but I will not lie to myself anymore, and I will not make up fairy tales in my head about who or what we are.

  The truth is, he is Chance’s father. The truth is, no one will be a fiercer protector of Chance than Luke Lane. The truth is, I’m kind of a snoop, and I listened to him talking to Chance in the nursery the morning he left, and I heard him talk to Hope. They say the truth will set you free. I already feel a little freer.

  I believe that he loves them. I believe that he will always be there for them. I believe in him. I believe that, for some reason, Luke Lane will forever be part of my life. But I am no longer a naive little girl. I am a woman, a mother. I have lived more in the past year than some live in twenty. I have lost the first man who ever loved me and wanted me for me.

  I know I will never be loved that way again. I find comfort in that. Thomas Hardy’s and my love is a forever love. No other love will erase it, and if he’s the last man who ever says those words to me, I will die a happy woman. Why? Because I am a mother and childhood notions are gone.

  Those babies are my life and my loves. My hopes, chances, and dreams all lie with theirs, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

  The next day is a little bit the same. The babies are clingy, and yes, I love it. Dad and Logan are here, and for the first time in eleven months, I am here with them.

  Me, Ava Links.

  The house is messy, Logan and Dad are loud and foolish, but they are my family, and I have missed them so much.

  We take pictures with that damn abomination of the snowman, and the kids, my babies, let Dad hold them long enough that we get a picture where they aren’t wearing boo-boo faces while looking at me.

  When they are down for a nap, and Dad and Logan are out doing...I don’t know what, I upload the pictures and, for the first time, post them on social media. And yes, I tag my father, their grand...person.

  Fifty likes in ten minutes. I laugh as I sit there, posting picture after picture of
my children from birth to now, not taken by me, but from everyone who held them, everyone who loves them.

  I tag Dad and Mom, and Logan, and Tessa, and Harper and Maddox, and Liam, and Lexington, and London, and Piper, and Brody, and Emma. I even tag Jade and Ryan in a picture of the gifts they sent. And I cry while doing it. I feel scared, nervous, and so many other emotions, but all of them are laced with love and happiness. Then I put away my computer because I want to stop myself from the need to hide them, to protect them from the naysayers.

  When Dad and Logan walk in, they are carrying groceries and Toys “R” Us bags. I smile at them, because my children are theirs, too.

  “Ava, you feeling more social today?” Logan asks with a chuckle.

  “What?”

  “Logan...” Dad warns then looks at me, beaming.

  I know he’s seen the posts. For him, I am happy as can be.

  I start to text Luke again but stop myself. If he hasn’t returned my texts, he’s an asshole. However, he’s an asshole who helped me realize, in just a week’s time, that I can do this. I can love out loud and be free of the ties that, not only I allowed to bind me, but hell, I tied those knots myself.

  As I hold Chance and Dad holds Hope, I ask, “Dad?”

  “Princess?”

  “Um, will you message Jade and ask how Luke is without her knowing I want to know?”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “I suppose, but why not text him yourself?” He narrows his eyes at me. “Or I could. He and I need to have a chat.”

  I can’t tell him he’s been here—that’s between Luke and I—so I simply say, “Please, Daddy.”

  He nods, just like I knew he would, and then he gets up and puts Hope down.

  I follow suit and put Chance in his crib, kiss them both, and then follow him out.

  “Hey, Jade, how are you?” Dad asks, and I mouth, “Speaker.”

  He rolls his eyes, but he does it.

  “I’m good. Holy shit! I saw the pictures of those babies. Lucas, there is no way he’s not—”

  “How is Luke?” he interrupts.

  “Great question. I’ve called him for two days straight, and he’s not answering. That’s not like him. Well, not since the accident, anyway, so I’m a little worried.”