His Perfect BabyA Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  My father was pissed when he came through the door. “Why?” he demanded. “Do you want me to kick you out?”

  I had to explain to him what happened, start to finish. He almost didn’t believe me, but Thomas actually backed me up for once. He didn’t seem apologetic for attacking Luke like that, but father was pissed. Yelled at Thomas for ten straight minutes, accused him of bringing too much attention down on the family, all that stuff.

  In the end, I got off with a warning. I can’t be around Luke anymore or else he’ll throw me out, all that good stuff. Which is why I shouldn’t be here right now.

  Max is in bed, sound asleep. Mom and Dad are both asleep as well, although I don’t know where Thomas is. If Max gets up, he’ll go bother his grandmom if he finds me not in my bed. I know it’s a little irresponsible, but he’s not alone. My parents can handle anything that comes up, although I hope nothing does. I’ll be totally screwed if they realize I’m gone.

  But no, I’ve been waiting too long. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. I’ve been dreaming for years about finally seeing Luke again, being able to touch him, talk to him. My parents forced me to stay away from him while he was in prison and I listened for Max’s sake, but even when I wasn’t contacting him, I never gave up. Luke was always on my mind. I spent every penny I earned on Luke and sacrificed more than he’ll know.

  I cut the engine and get out of the car. I’m not turning back, not now. I have to be brave, although I don’t want to be.

  The League is a dive bar like any dive in any small town. It’s old, probably built in the seventies or something like that, and hasn’t been updated at all since. It’s supposedly a sports bar, and although there are three cheap flat screen TVs, nobody pays them any mind. Mostly people come here because the drinks are cheap and the burgers are surprisingly good.

  I haven’t stepped foot in here in years. I haven’t had much of a social life since Luke went away. Frankly, I haven’t had any social life at all. I haven’t had any boyfriends, and most of my close friends slowly drifted away from me. I’ve been something of a pariah in town, all because my boyfriend supposedly killed a woman. People looked at me like I caught his murder-disease.

  I didn’t care. I used that to fuel my anger. But I feel awkward, stepping into the League and looking around.

  Fortunately, I don’t recognize anyone. I don’t want to risk anyone knowing me and telling my father that I was here with Luke. I got lucky once already and I don’t want to test that.

  I spot Luke sitting at one end of the bar. He nods at me as I approach him, and I can’t help but feel excited by the little smile that threatens the corner of his mouth.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he says, and for a second I think we’re kids again. He used to say that to me all the time.

  “Hey, stranger.” I sit down on the empty seat next to him. “What’re you drinking?”

  “Beer,” he says. “You want something?”

  I shrug. “Might as well. We’re in a bar, after all.”

  He flags down the waitress and orders me a gin and tonic. I smile to myself, happy that he remembers I drink those, although I haven’t had one in a while. I’m more of a wine girl now, but he’ll figure that out eventually. No need to rush things.

  I get my drink and he looks at me. “I’m glad you showed up.”

  “Me too.”

  “I feel like it was weird last time, you know?”

  I laugh a little. “What, my brother trying to kill you didn’t make things comfortable between us?”

  He grins back at me. “That and the whole me being in jail for five years for a crime I didn’t commit.”

  “Oh yeah, that. Pretty awkward if you ask me.”

  He laughs and we both sip our drinks. “How are you, Avery?” he asks me seriously.

  “You want honest?”

  He nods. “Fuck it. We owe each other that much, at least.”

  “Okay. I’m living in my father’s house, whom I despise, and raising a child all by myself. I have a two-year degree, a part-time job, and no great prospects going forward. I’m a pariah in town and the only person I ever cared about was locked away for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  He listens with a blank face before finally sighing. “Sounds like shit luck.”

  “I guess I can’t complain. At least I wasn’t in prison.”

  “That’s true.” He takes a long swig of his beer. “Better to not be in prison, honestly.”

  “How are you?” I ask him.

  “You want honest?”

  “Of course.”

  “Okay. I’m fucking angry, is how I am. I’m back in this town where they threw me into a hole to rot for five years. Turns out prison fucking sucks, and I had to fight for my life every day. And now I’m back, but nothing’s changed, and I’m mad as hell every day.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly. “Shit luck.”

  “Yeah.”

  We go silent for a second and I nudge him a little. “I’m glad you’re back at least,” I say.

  “I’m glad I am too.” He lets out a breath. “Sorry I just went off. Been a while since I had to, you know, socialize.”

  “Not a lot of small talk in prison?”

  “Not so much. Unless you count talking about how to make a shiv and smuggle in drugs.”

  I stare at him for a second. “Seriously?”

  He looks back at me before cracking a grin. “Nah, not really. I mean, that shit happens, but after that first year I mostly kept to myself and a little crew.”

  “You made friends?” I ask, surprised.

  “You got to, honestly. I didn’t that first year and it was like I was fighting every single day.”

  “Must have been hard,” I whisper, not sure what else to say.

  “Yeah, well. I’m not trying to complain. I’m okay.”

  “Good.” I pause awkwardly, looking at my drink. “I’m sorry, you know. For what happened.”

  “Me too. Wish it were different.” He drinks his beer, finishing it off, and motions the bartender for another. “Tell me about my son.”

  I smile a little. “He’s got your eyes. Sweet, funny, goofy. Loves to play with Legos. He’s also really stubborn, like you.”

  He grins a little. “He like sports yet?”

  I shrug. “Not really. He’s young though, he’s not really playing games like that yet.”

  “Guess I don’t care if he likes sports, as long as he likes cars.”

  I perk up at that. “He has a ton of toy cars. He loves them.”

  “Good,” he says, looking pleased. “Maybe I’ll get him some.”

  “He’d like that.”

  I look at the bar, my heart beating fast. It’s so odd, talking to Max’s father like this. Luke and Max are total strangers, and it’s going to be a long time before they have any sort of real relationship.

  “What have you told him about me?” Luke asks.

  “Not much, honestly. He asked about you once, and I just told him that his father lives somewhere far away.” I stare down at my glass for a second. “But that you’d be back one day to see him.”

  Luke watches me quietly, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I wish I could break through that serious gaze of his and really get him to open up to me, but I can’t. The Luke I know and love is buried in there, kept safely hidden away from me.

  I can’t blame him. I’d want to hide from me too if I were him. I’d be very resentful of the way I abandoned him, although I never abandoned him, not really.

  “You couldn’t have known I’d be back,” he says finally. “That wasn’t good.”

  “I knew,” I say softly. “I never gave up.”

  “So why didn’t you write?”

  I bite my lip and look away. “It’s not simple.”

  “Of course it isn’t.”

  “You don’t think I wanted to?” I look back at him, a little anger creeping to the surface. “I thought about you every day, Luke.”

  He doesn’t respon
d right away. His second beer arrives and he sips it before finally sighing. “I’m sorry. I just have so much anger. Sometimes I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “I understand,” I say softly. “More than you know, I think.”

  He cocks his head and a sly little smile flits across his expression. “You look good, you know.”

  I raise an eyebrow, pulse racing. “You think so?”

  “I know so. You look the same but… different.”

  “I had a baby,” I say, laughing.

  “No, it’s not that. You look more mature. Your hair’s different, but there’s something else.”

  “You look good too,” I say, a little breathless. It’s suddenly hot in here and I keep getting flashbacks to when he kissed me all those years ago, his mouth wet and warm against mine, his hands roaming my skin.

  “We had a lot of fun back then,” he says.

  “Yeah, we did.” I can’t help but smile. “Remember when, down at the creek—”

  “That guy almost walked right on top of us? ‘Hey kids, what are you guys doing down there?’” He makes his face, a perfect mimic of the guy.

  “Right, he was shocked when he realized you were going down on me.”

  We both laugh. It’s a good memory, although that guy freaked out and would’ve scared me if it weren’t for Luke.

  “Missed out on a lot of that,” he says softly.

  “Yeah,” I say and meet his gaze directly. “But now we can make up for lost time.”

  A big smile breaks across his face and for a second, he’s the old Luke again. He looks so good, totally unguarded, genuinely happy at my comment.

  But that smile slowly disappears. His gaze moves from my face to something over my shoulder, and his expression becomes clouded.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Walkers,” he says, and I turn to look.

  Coming toward us are the two older Walker brothers. The Walker family are co-owners of the paper mill along with my family, and I’ve practically been raised alongside them like cousins.

  Franklin is twenty-seven, the same age as my brother. They’re close friends actually. He’s thick in the chest, shorter than Luke, with straight dark hair and dark eyes. The other brother, Julian, the oldest of the group, is twenty-nine and taller than Franklin, but he has the same dark hair and dark eyes. He’s thinner and dressed in baggy jeans and a button-down.

  The third brother, Eli Walker, is missing from the group. He’s our age, although I’ve never gotten along with him. I’ve always gotten a bad vibe from Eli.

  The two brothers approach us and I turn to meet them.

  “What are you doing here, Avery?” Franklin asks me.

  I shrug. “Having a drink with an old friend. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  Franklin grins at me. “It’s always our business when you’re spending time with a murderer.”

  “He’s not a murderer,” I say. “He was acquitted.”

  “Sure, we heard about that,” Julian says. “Guess you’re happy to be home, Luke.”

  “Sure,” Luke says guardedly.

  “You know, I heard you’re not supposed to be spending time with gutter trash anymore,” Franklin says casually.

  Luke winces and I can feel him tense.

  “Don’t talk about him like that,” I say.

  “What, he’s not gutter trash?” Franklin says, pretending to be innocent. “Well, whatever. Thomas told us you’re not supposed to be anywhere near him.”

  “Mind your own business,” I say.

  “Problem is, this is our business,” Julian cuts in. “We have to look out for family.”

  “We’re not family,” I say, standing up. “And if you tell my brother or my father about this, I’ll make sure Julie Fields hears about how you bragged about finger-banging her two years ago.”

  Julian turns bright red. “Wait a second—“

  “And you, Franklin,” I say, turning on him. “Remember how you used to show me your dick as a kid? I bet your parents would love to hear about that.”

  He turns beet red. “That’s a fucking lie.”

  “It’s not a lie. You made me touch it once, too. Remember that?”

  He growls but Julian puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here. We don’t need this.”

  Franklin takes a breath. “Yeah, okay. Enjoy your night with this fucking trash.” Franklin tosses a stare at Luke before the two brothers walk away, back to a booth in the corner.

  I sit back down slowly, sighing. “Fucking assholes,” I say.

  Luke smirks at me. “He really do that?” he asks me.

  I grin back. “Showed it to me once when we were kids. But he didn’t make me touch it.”

  He laughs then, shaking his head. “You’re the same old Avery. Not taking any shit.”

  I grin back at him. “Well, what can I say? I don’t like Walkers.”

  “Here, here.” He finishes his beer. “We should get going.”

  I frown a little bit. “We’ve barely been here.”

  “I know. It’s late, and you got a kid at home. And I got work.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I say softly.

  “Come on. I’ll walk you to your car.”

  He drops some cash on the bar, paying for our drinks, and we head out together. The night is cool but comfortable, although I find myself walking close to him anyway.

  “You don’t need to defend me, you know,” he says, looking at the ground. “I can handle guys like that.”

  “I know. I just hate them.”

  “I think Franklin almost pissed himself,” Luke says, laughing to himself. “I won’t pretend like that wasn’t the best thing I’ve seen in years.”

  I wave my hand. “Those boys are all full of shit. Rich, spoiled assholes.”

  “Sounds familiar, rich girl?”

  He grins at me and I narrow my eyes at him, smiling. This was another joke from the old days.

  “You really want to go there?” I ask him.

  “What, gonna call me gutter trash?”

  I laugh and push him softly. He grins and leans up against me as I lead him up to my car. I stop in front of it and turn toward him.

  For a second, I think he’s going to come closer. I want to feel his warmth again, his skin, his touch. I want to taste him like I used to, like I’m so desperate for more.

  But instead, he steps away. “Have a good night, Avery,” he says. “Maybe we can see each other again.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I hope so.”

  “I want to meet my son.” His eyes lock with mine.

  “I want that, too. But it’s hard right now.”

  “I get it. But they can’t keep me away forever.”

  “They won’t. I promise.”

  He watches me for a second then nods. “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  He turns and walks away. His truck’s parked on the other side of the lot and I watch him climb in.

  That unguarded look from earlier keeps playing in my mind as I drive home. That was the Luke I want and miss. I know he’s still in there, and I think I can draw him out, slowly but surely. The town may be out to get us, totally against whatever we may have, but that doesn’t matter. We’ve gotten through worse. We can get through this.

  7

  Luke

  Running into Avery’s brother and the Walker brothers only underscores just how much this fucking town hates me.

  Maybe not everyone. After I was released and my story was all over the news, there were people being interviewed that seemed like they were on my side. I read a bunch of editorials decrying the state of criminal justice, and all that bullshit, but I saw an equal number of people saying that I’m trash and deserved what I got anyway. Sometimes it’s hard to drown out the negative voices, even when there are positive ones to pay attention to.

  I guess that’s just how people are. The negative always outweighs the positive if we let it. Our default mode is ne
gative, suffering, anger. And the only way to beat all that shit is through hard work. You have to actually try to be happy, which is why it’s so damn hard. Trying is a pain in the ass.

  I could easily give up, turn to drinking, numb myself to everything around me. I don’t think folks would really blame me for doing it. I’ve suffered enough, a random and cruel fate. I had five years of my youth stolen from me, all for nothing.

  I’m not the kind of man to lie down and die. Even if the Walkers and the Sellers of the world want to fuck me up, throw me in jail, silence me, get rid of me, I’m not going to let them win. Those rich bastards have enough as it is. They can’t take my dignity, too.

  The drive to Ocilla, Maine, feels familiar, even though I haven’t done it in over five years. The last time I was here, I was staying at that ratty motor lodge, killing time before I headed back home. That was the day someone killed that poor woman and decided to frame me for it.

  I can’t help but think about it all as I head out there. I keep seeing the way people looked at me as I was dragged in and out of court, the murderer, the trash kid from the bad family. They looked at me like I was a fucking piece of shit, and people actually cheered when the verdict was read out loud.

  And then there was that first year in prison. I didn’t tell Avery everything about that year. I got in fights almost every day, had to learn to defend myself. Got my nose broken more than once, had to have a tooth replaced, broke my wrist, my ankle, and five of my ribs. That shit didn’t stop until I hooked up with another group of guys that banded together for protection, and things got better from there. They weren’t my friends, though.

  I never had friends in prison. Just couldn’t make any. I kept to myself, reading books, mostly law books, trying to find some way to prove my innocence. Whenever people asked me about my case, I always maintained that I didn’t do it, and they always laughed.

  “Everyone’s innocent in prison,” a guard once said to me before jabbing me in the gut with his club.

  Nobody believed me. I was a pariah and a liar. In prison, people want you to own your crime, no matter how bad, as long as you’re not a pedophile or some shit. They call those guys “touchers,” and they’re regularly beaten. Fortunately, I was just a regular murderer.