You Own My Heart

by Juliana Stone

The flight back to Detroit took about three hours. They flew from Key West at five a.m. and landed around eight in the morning. The air was crisp and the sun brilliant as they loaded up Nash’s truck, which was waiting for them. Spring was in the air, and Honey’s heart felt a little lighter.

  Stinker had never been in a car before, so Honey was pleasantly surprised when the small dog flopped down in the backseat and slept the entire ninety minutes it took to get from Detroit to Crystal Lake. By the time they got to Nash’s place, Honey was exhausted. She hadn’t slept much because of the sex. And her nerves. And the sex.

  Good God, the sex. Who knew that pregnant sex could be that good? Nash had been ravenous. Relentless. Curious of the changes in her body. Her nipples were extra sensitive. Her orgasms explosive. And he said she tasted better than anything he’d ever had before.

  She blushed as she pictured him between her legs, his hands holding her thighs apart so he could see and taste every single inch of her.

  “You okay?” he asked as he parked the truck and cut the engine.

  She slid from his vehicle and waited for Stinker to follow. “I will be after a shower, and then we’ll go to him.”

  He rounded the truck and folded her into his arms, his face concerned, his touch gentle. “Are you sure you want to do this today? It can wait until tomorrow.”

  “No,” she said, inhaling his scent and melting against him. “I don’t think it can. I don’t want John to wait. It’s not fair. I want to start my life with you, and I can’t do that until I see John. I need to finish this, Nash. I need to have closure.”

  “Okay. Whatever you need.” He loosened his grip, and they headed inside. He tried to talk her into a nap, but Honey was so wired, she knew it wouldn’t happen. They both showered and in under an hour were on their way to the Blackwell home. By the time they got there, Honey had regained her strength, and she slid from the truck, determined to see this through, and, more importantly, determined to be strong.

  Hudson was waiting on the step, and behind him, she spied Wyatt and Travis. The three Blackwell boys. Her brothers. They looked tired and sad and unsure.

  “Ready?” Nash slipped her hand into his and squeezed gently. She let him lead her to the house. None of the men said anything about her pregnancy, but then Nash must have told them. It was awkward at first. She tried not to think of the things Hudson had said about her, but they were there, on the edge of her mind, pecking away at her courage.

  “I’m sorry, Honey,” Hudson said simply. “We’ll talk, we will. But later If that’s okay?”

  “Of course.”” she replied, offering a wan smile. “How is John?”

  Hudson shook his head. “He’s refused to take any kind of pain medication because he knew you were coming. He wanted to be able to have a conversation with you.” He stood back. “We should do this. You should go see him.”

  There isn’t much time. Hudson didn’t say the words, but she saw them in his eyes and in the fatigue around his mouth.

  Subdued, Honey walked inside and followed Hudson up to John’s room. It smelled of sickness and despair, and death. She supposed no matter what your lot in life was, everyone ended up in the same place, knocking on death’s door. It was the grace with which a person handled the end that told the true strength of their character. Her mother had not done well with it, too many regrets, it seemed, which made a sad situation that much harder.

  Honey had no idea how this would go; she just knew it needed to be done.

  Darlene got up from the bed and, without hesitation, drew Honey into her arms. “I’m so glad you came,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and weak. “It means a lot to him.” She stepped back. “We’ll leave you alone. He’s resting his eyes, but he knows you’re here.”

  Hudson and Darlene left, and Honey found herself alone with a father she’d longed to call her own since she was a little girl. He was a shadow of the man she’d met the year before. His skin was sallow, and he’d lost so much weight, he barely made an impression in the king-size bed. She heard his breathing from where he stood. It rattled and banged against his chest like a ghost with chains.

  She approached the bed and stopped beside him just as his eyes opened. She wasn’t sure he knew who she was, but a small smile tugged at his mouth, and he struggled to sit up.

  “No, don’t,” Honey said gently. She sat in the chair Darlene had vacated. “Please, John. Just rest.”

  He cleared his throat, and she helped him drink some water from the glass on the table beside his bed. After a few minutes, he spoke, his voice scratchy as if unused.

  “I know your face.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have my eyes.”

  She found herself nodding and whispered, “Yes.”

  He looked desperate, in that way that people who are dying do. It was a feverish glow to the eye, a yearning in the expression. John Blackwell had never been a man to mince words. To say more than he had to in order to convey his meaning. There was no reason to start now.

  “I never loved your mother. I barely knew her.” His words were direct and honest. John’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. “But I would have loved you. That I know. You are beautiful and kind and generous. Nash is a lucky man.” He smiled then, a sad sort of thing, and she felt his fingers loosen as if the last of his strength was slipping away. “I wish I had more time.”

  “Maybe… Regan said you’ve rallied before. There’s always hope.”

  “Just a fool’s hope now.” His chest rattled as he exhaled, and she took the cloth beside his bed and gently cleaned the paper-thin skin on his forehead. John settled back onto his pillows and closed his eyes. “I’ll see my Angel soon, and all those who’ve gone before me. God willing.” Again, his chest rattled, and Honey winced at the sound. He must be in incredible pain. All because he wanted to be lucid enough to talk to her.

  “I wish you a happy life, my girl.”

  Those were the last words John Blackwell uttered. He slipped into unconsciousness and passed away three hours later.

  A week later at the celebration of his life, he was remembered as a generous man who gave to the community. As a family man who was devoted to his wife and children. There was no mention of Honey because she wouldn’t have it. She didn’t want gossip at his funeral. Nor did she want those who would judge coloring his legacy, taking away from all the good he’d done for those less fortunate than him. In the end, she stood with the Blackwell men, her brothers, and ignored the curious stares. With Nash at her side, she felt fearless. And with a hand on her stomach, her child kicking restlessly inside her, Honey laid her father to rest. A man who would have loved her.

  It was the circle of life, and she was glad to be part of it. It meant she belonged.

  It meant everything.

  Epilogue

  Nash Booker was the kind of man who worked well under pressure. Not much fazed him. He looked at a situation. Assessed it. And did what he had to do to reach the end game. It worked well in sports. Hell, when he played football, he could read the field like no one’s business and make the play happen as cool as could be. Skydiving? He’d lost count of the number of planes he’d jumped out of. Scuba diving at night? Again, no problem. Heck, rush-hour traffic was more intense than any of his pastimes. But having a baby? That was something he’d never navigated before, and it was about to send him over the edge.

  Oh, the labor and delivery had been fine—as far as he could tell. Honey was a champion. She’d pulled through with flying colors, and he’d never been so damn proud of anyone in his life. She’d been fierce and beautiful, and when she’d held their son for the first time, Nash’s heart nearly broke in two.

  He had no idea of the depth of the love that lived inside him until this moment. And, in equal measures, the fear. It took hold of him as Honey slept, and he’d been pacing their private room for at least ten minutes now, casting furtive glances at the small bundle in blue beside her bed.

  Gabriel John Booker.

 
; His son.

  Damn, he was responsible for a small, tiny, little human. Worse yet, he was expected to pick him up and actually hold the little guy in his arms. The baby weighed eight pounds, for Christ’s sake, and his neck was like a wet noodle. What if he didn’t know how to hold him the right way? What if he dropped him?

  A cold sweat chilled on Nash’s forehead, and he swiped at it as he approached the bassinette. Two blue eyes stared up at him, blinking slowly, as if to say, I’ve been here before. Not a big deal.

  Right. Easy for you to say, Nash thought.

  The little guy was swaddled up like he was baby Moses. Gabriel had been born with thick dark hair, but most of that was hidden beneath a knitted blue hat, and that wouldn’t do. Nash grabbed his knapsack from the chair beside the door and retrieved something special. He approached the bassinette once again, carefully, slowly, as if he were stalking a baby lion in the wild.

  Those two blue eyes sill looked up at him, though the little face scrunched up something fierce. Nash prepared for some god-awful screaming (because isn’t that what babies did?), but Gabriel yawned and then settled back to watching his daddy.

  Carefully, Nash reached in and slid off the knitted hat, replacing it with the special-order Buffalo Bills’ one he’d gotten just the day before. He stood back and nodded. Now his kid looked like a Booker.

  He stared down at his son for a long time. So long that his shoulders tightened up and he had to roll them a few times to get them loose again. Gabriel’s eyes followed his movements, and in wonder, Nash bent closer. He’d been told babies don’t really see anything when they’re first born. But his kid was obviously gifted. His kid was bright-eyed and focused—already ahead of the game.

  Nash smiled and, before he could second-guess, found himself reaching for the baby. Carefully, he put one hand beneath the neck, just like he’d seen the nurse do, and then he slid his other underneath the boy. Slowly, he lifted Gabriel from the bassinette and held him in his arms.

  His throat was tight with emotion, his chest as well, and he wasn’t embarrassed to say that tears welled up in his eyes, making it hard to see. He walked the room for a couple of minutes, and by that time, he was comfortable with his boy. Hell, he could probably run a marathon with the kid and they’d do all right.

  He looked over to the bed, and everything went quiet. Honey was awake, her cheeks flushed to a rosy color, her eyes shiny, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She smiled, a beautiful thing that lit her up from inside, and he crossed the room to her bed.

  “Hey,” he said, bending lower so he could kiss her. “You did good.”

  Her eyes were wet, and she smiled, her lips tremulous as she gazed up at him. “I can’t believe we made such a perfect little boy. I can’t believe he’s ours.” She laughed through her tears. “I keep thinking it’s got to be a mistake. Like, God is going look down and say, you have no idea what you’re doing, and then he’s going to take him back.”

  Nash nodded. “I get it, but it’s never going to happen. You’re going to be an amazing mother.” He dropped one more kiss onto her mouth, a lingering, soul-infusing kiss that he hoped conveyed all the things he was feeling. “Here.”

  He waited until she sat up and then handed her the baby. Then he crossed the room, noticing the first few rays of sunlight breaking across the night sky. He had to rummage a bit until he found what he was looking for, and when he returned to Honey’s bedside, he got that punch to the gut again. He wondered if that feeling would ever go away.

  “I was waiting for the right time to do this, and, well, now seems to be it.” Nash opened the box and pulled out a simple square-cut diamond.

  “Yes.” Honey gulped.

  He hid a smile. “I haven’t asked the question yet.”

  “My answer is yes.”

  “Would you—”

  “Yes.”

  “Marry me?”

  “I already said yes.” She laughed.

  Nash slipped the ring on her finger and gazed down at the two of them. “He looks like a Blackwell.”

  Honey angled her head for a better look. “You think?”

  “I do.”

  She kissed Gabriel’s forehead. “He’s got your nose.”

  “Thank God, have you seen the size of Hudsy’s?” He paused. “I supposed I should call them and let them know the baby’s arrived.”

  “Too late.” Nash and Honey glanced toward the door as Hudson and Becca slipped inside. “Regan’s on call. She told us a few hours ago and we would have been here earlier, except Becca gave me hell and told me you needed some time to yourselves.”

  “Right.” Nash grinned. “And so it begins.” With two large families to call her own, Honey would be overwhelmed with visitors, opinions, but, more importantly, lots of love.

  Hudson frowned as he approached the bed. “What the hell?” He held up the cutest blue-and-red hat and made a face. “The Blackwells are Patriots fans.”

  “He’s a Booker,” Nash replied dryly.

  Hudson and Becca peered over his shoulder at the small bundle in Honey’s arms. After a few seconds, Hudson slowly nodded. “He has your nose.”

  Nash met Honey’s eyes, and the two of them burst into laughter. It was Thanksgiving Sunday. Life was good. Family was everything.

  And he and Honey had their whole lives ahead of them.

  Author’s note

  I hope you enjoyed Nash and Honey! After a rough start, I know I did! I have to thank all my wonderful readers for their continued support and kind words. I love writing these stories about family, friends and love. I love characters who reflect real life, because not everything is neat and tidy. Life would be boring if so!

  Big thank you to my editor Linda, and for my family and friends for understanding my crazy schedule. To my children Kristen and Jacob, for inspiring me. And to my darling little Pinot for making me laugh.

  I will continue this series with more books set in Crystal Lake! Until then, be kind, be safe, and love unconditionally.

  xo

  Juliana

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author and 2015 RITA® winner JULIANA STONE fell in love with books in the fifth grade when her teacher introduced her to Tom Sawyer. A tomboy at heart, she splits her time between baseball, books, and music. She’s thrilled to be writing young adult as well as adult contemporary romance—books that have garnered starred reviews from Publishers Weekly & Booklist—from somewhere in the wilds of Canada.

  I love haring from my readers, and you can find me by clicking the links below! If you want to stay abreast of all happenings, you can sign up for my newsletter

  http://www.julianastone.com/contact/

  Lastly, if you have the time to leave an honest review of my books at point of purchase, or Goodreads, it would be much appreciated! Every little bit helps!

  Xo

  Juliana

  Please visit me at the following places.

  www.julianastone.com

  juliana@julianastone.com

  Also by Juliana Stone

  The Blackwells of Crystal Lake

  You Make Me Weak

  You Drive Me Crazy

  You Rock My World

  You Own My Heart

  The Family Simon series…

  Tucker -Free

  Jack

  Maverick

  Teague

  Grace

  Cooper

  THE BARKER TRIPLETS TRILOGY

  Offside - Free

  Collide

  Conceal

  A Barker Family Christmas

 

 

 
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