by Ella Fox
He lifts me off slowly, but I wince anyway. I’m still not a fan of the little sting that comes with losing him. I watch his retreating form as he heads into the bathroom to deal with the condom. With him in the bathroom, I get up and go to the dresser to pull out a nightgown. No sooner do I pull out a drawer then he’s back in the room.
“What’re you doing?”
“Nightgown,” I answer.
He shakes his head before he pulls off his shirt and hands it to me. “Wear this.”
Pulling it over my head, I snicker when I realize that it stops just short of my knees. Just like his biker jacket, the sleeves are too long, so I spend a minute rolling them up. Looking up to find him watching me, I bite my lip when I get a look at his naked chest. Good Lord, this man is hot. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to him. “Keep looking at me like that and you’ll be fucked so hard you’ll feel me inside you for days.”
Licking my lips, I grin. “Promise?”
Not only does he promise, he follows through.
I wake up around midnight, surprised that he’s not in bed with me. Seeing that his clothes are gone, my stomach drops. Rising from the bed, I pull on my discarded pants and tee from earlier, just in case I need to go next door to kick his ass. I stop at my dresser to grab a pair of fluffy socks before shuffling out into the living room. I startle when I realize he’s still here—sitting on the couch in the dark. Flicking on a lamp, I go and sit down next to him.
“What’re you doing out here?”
“Couldn’t sleep. I came out for some water and wound up sitting here answering some business emails.” Saying this, he holds up the phone at his side. “Just finished a second ago and was gearing up to come back to bed but now you’re here.”
It’s a reasonable explanation, but I don’t miss that he looks melancholy. “You okay?” I ask.
Lifting my hand, he threads our fingers together. “It’s been an emotional few days. You awake enough for me to show you something outside?”
I’m wide awake now.
I nod. “Of course.”
Grabbing his car keys from the table, he stands, helps me up, and guides me toward the door. Watching him as we walk I note that he seems heavier somehow, like he’s bracing for something. After flicking the security latch on my door to keep it from shutting all the way, he walks me over to his truck. Stopping at the rear door, he clicks the key fob to unlock the car.
“I want you to know everything about me,” he says as he opens the door. I stare at him blankly for several seconds before he gestures for me to look inside. When I turn my head and see what’s in the backseat my brows shoot up in surprise. Far from being a mess, his car is extremely clean, but that isn’t what’s got me reeling. No, the thing responsible for that is the car seat on the rear passenger seat. Beside the seat is a little backpack with Bob the Builder on it and next to that is a pillow that has one of the Land Before Time dinosaurs on the case.
“You have a son?” I ask incredulously.
If pain had a face, it would be the expression on his at my question. I know before he says a word that whatever is coming isn’t good.
He shakes his head before he takes my hand, shuts the truck door and then guides me back toward my room. Inside, he maneuvers us to the couch. Once we’re seated, I nervously wait for him to explain.
“Had,” he says thickly. “I had a son. His name was Brady and I loved him with every fiber of my being.”
My breath catches, my heart racing a mile a minute as I realize what that sentence means. The pain I’ve seen in Donovan’s eyes makes all the sense in the world now. My breaking heart shatters into a million pieces when he tells me exactly how he lost his son.
27
Eden
It’s Thanksgiving, and like every other day of the last two weeks since Donovan confided in me, I wake up and ask myself the same question. What are you thankful for? The little things are obvious—my health, the fact that I wasn’t pregnant after the night of no condoms, that I have a roof over my head. The bigger stuff is very clear to me, too. I’m thankful for many things—that my father is safe and sound, that he’s religiously attending Gam-Anon meetings, that I stumbled into a job I love, that I have the Millers and the Becketts in my life— but the number one thing is Donovan. The man who spent so much time trying to get away from me somehow became my whole world.
I see now, so clearly, why he shut himself off. Although my situation is not the same as his, I can understand the shock, disbelief and absolute heartbreak of losing someone you love without any warning at all. Life is fragile, and there are no guarantees. From one instant to the next, we never know what’s coming our way. The tragedies we see day in and day out on the news happen to real people who are just like us— and in the aftermath, many will shut down, just like Donovan did. I’ve always been empathetic, but because of him, I am doubly so now. We all get one life and every day we get to decide what we’re going to do with it.
We’re all celebrating Thanksgiving at the Becketts’, including my dad. He’s been working with Donovan, Paul, and Ron at their flip house and they all get along great. I’ve been doing my best to prepare myself for the fact that there will be bumps along the road of his recovery. Dad has promised me that he’ll never disappear again, and since that’s the biggest issue for me, I feel confident that we can weather this. As long as there is life, there’s a chance to make it right. I won’t ever lose sight of that.
“So you think I’m good to get the Ford F-350 Lariat?” Paul asks as he passes a piece of cherry pie my way.
“It’s perfect for you,” I answer. “After I studied the specs I went out and looked at one at the dealership yesterday. It can handle up to twenty-seven thousand pounds so you’ll have no trouble towing your tool hauler around for work, and it can handle towing the boat you want to buy, too. They had two at the dealership with the gooseneck prep package, which will make it all easier since you won’t have to make aftermarket changes.”
“Does anyone here understand what the hell she’s saying?” Julie asks the table at large.
“No,” everyone but Paul answers. He changes it up by saying that he does.
I stick out my tongue at Julie as I scratch my nose with my middle finger. Snorting out a laugh, she digs into her pie.
“What about you, son?” Paul asks, gesturing at Donovan with his fork. “Did you look at the new trucks?”
Dropping my hand beneath the table, I rub it along Donovan’s leg. This is a touchy subject for him, one that I completely understand. The bottom line is that his truck has over a hundred and eighty thousand miles, most of that put on because he’s been up and down the east coast for jobs hundreds of times. Because of all that travel, his truck’s engine has seen better days. That said, Donovan needs all the memories of Brady he can get, and that truck is a reminder of happier times. He lets me ride in it now—it’s how we got here today—and it feels a lot like sacred space to me. I don’t want him to lose that.
Linking his hand with mine, he squeezes to let me know he’s okay. “I’m picking up my new truck tomorrow morning,” he announces.
With the exception of me, (I already knew), and my dad (who doesn’t realize the significance), every single person at the table sucks in a surprised breath.
Raising his hand in a holdup motion he continues, “I’m not going to get rid of the old one, I’m just going to garage it and drive it a hell of a lot less. Eden’s car has been on the road since 1991. She tells me she can keep the beast going indefinitely as long as I follow her orders, so I’m going to do that.”
This makes me snicker, and he smiles at me knowingly. We’ve come a long way from him telling me to stay away from his truck.
Hours later, Stella corners me in the kitchen. With tears streaming down her face, she bear hugs me.
“Thank you for loving him.”
Even though I’m hugging her back, I startle. I haven’t even told him yet that love is what I’m feeling. I’m waiting for something
—some kind of a sign or a moment that feels just right. I might also, a teeny-tiny bit, be waiting for him to say it first. I think it’s clear that he does, but until one of us says it, who can be sure?
New Year’s Eve
Turning off the snowmobile, Donovan turns and looks at me. “You cold?”
I shrug. I mean, yeah, it’s damn cold, but I’m probably more layered up than Ralphie was in A Christmas Story.
“I’m fine, worry wart.”
He shakes his head as he climbs off the vehicle. “I don’t know how you’re fine and I’m freezing to death. My balls damn near froze to the seat and I weigh nearly twice as much as you do.”
“What does weight have to do with anything?”
“Body heat,” he answers as he holds his hand out to help me off.
“Oh, I’ve got body heat all right,” I laugh. “I’ll show you how much in a little while.”
We’re interrupted by Abel, one of the garage workers, who has come out to check the snowmobile back in. After a quick conversation about what plans Abel has for the night— which, not surprisingly, is the party Morrow is throwing at his house—Donovan and I head for our room. Well, my room, but it feels like ours since all of his stuff has migrated over and we haven’t spent a night apart even once. He’s been working on the rehab house instead of taking on any skip tracing work, which is something I won’t be complaining about. I like having him around.
Stopping in front of my door, we stomp off the snow on our boots before we take off our snowsuits. Inside the room, we take off our boots at the door, after which I head for the kitchen to make hot chocolate while he heads to the bedroom to get changed. After putting a pot of milk on the stove I strip out of my jeans and my sweatshirt, leaving me clad in a set of long johns.
Coming into the kitchen, Donovan lets out a wolf whistle. “Sexy.”
I give him a look. Long johns are so far from appealing it’s not even funny. “You’re hilarious, Stretch.”
“I’m serious,” he laughs as he wraps his arms around me to pull me in close. “You’re sexy as hell.”
I sigh as he leans down and plants a soft kiss on my lips. “It might be time to get your eyes checked. After all, you are pretty damn old,” I tease.
“Not so old that I don’t know how lucky I am to have found you.”
My heart melts as I smile up at him. “Nice try, but we both know you didn’t find me. I stumbled into you and promptly bounced off your muscles like a damn quarter. Therefore, I found you.”
“Is that the way it seemed to you?” he asks.
“Um, yeah, because that’s how it happened. I spun around and crashed into you like a graceless idiot and you saved me from busting my butt on the floor.”
“That’s what happened from your side,” he agrees. “Didn’t you ever wonder how you bumped into me?”
I wrinkle my nose and cock my head. “What do you mean?”
“I saw you as soon as I came through the back door, and it felt like someone had kicked me in the gut. I tried to shake it off and went over to Margie to get my mail, but the pull was too strong. I didn’t even say thank you when she handed it to me because I was already moving toward you, like my body was moving without me making a conscious choice to do so. I stopped behind you and stared like the fucking creeper I was while you went on singing along to Tom Petty’s Free Fallin’. I reached out to tap your shoulder—and to this day, I don’t even know what the fuck I was going to say. When you turned around, you slammed into me because I was right there. I caught you because one of my arms was already out. When you looked at me with those big blue eyes for what felt like a fucking hour, for the first time in years, I felt a connection. I was so flabbergasted that I stomped out like a complete asshole.”
It’s funny how there are two sides to every event. I’d never have guessed what his was. “You told me to watch where I was going,” I murmur.
“I was an idiot. Feel free to crash into me any time,” he says as he lifts his hands from where he’s been resting them at my waist to cup my face. Holding me gently, he stares down into my eyes. “I was going to wait ‘til midnight, but I’m done waiting. I love you, Eden.”
They’re the four best words I’ve ever heard in my entire life. I swallow past the lump in my throat and choke out, “I love you too,” before I’m climbing him like a tree.
We don’t make it to the bedroom, nor do we ever get to enjoy the hot chocolate I was making since it boils down to nothing and scalds the pan.
Epilogue
Donovan
9 months and 17 days later
When she looks up from her position on the stool at the foot of the bed, Dr. Kai beams at my wife. “You’ve done great so far, Eden. Now it’s time to start pushing,” she declares.
Everything seems to happen very quickly as soon as those words are uttered. There are nurses and talking, but I ignore all that to focus on the grunts of pain from my wife as her petite hand squeezes mine with the strength of a fucking gladiator. The bones in my hand feel like they’re being pulverized, but I’m not about to complain since I’m not the one pushing a person out of my body.
I’ve done everything I could do to stay focused through this pregnancy—not to compare it to what happened when Brady was born, not to get depressed and angry about what I lost. There were times when it was hard to do. In the beginning, I worried that Brady might be looking down on me thinking I’m replacing him. I’m not and I never could. No matter my future, I will mourn the loss of my son every single day of my life. There will never come a time when I’m over it, and my wife has helped me to understand that it’s okay to feel that pain.
I loved Brady with every part of me and I miss him every single day in a million different ways. I was robbed of decades of memories with my little man and as angry as that makes me, it isn’t my loss that guts me the most. It’s his. It’s the years and experiences that were taken away from him, my bright, beautiful boy. He deserved more time, and it was taken from him by an act of selfish evil that destroyed dozens of lives. The ripple effect of that day will continue on in ways big and small for decades to come.
If he’d been able to live the life he should have, my eleven-year-old son would’ve been my best man when I married Eden four months ago. He’d be out in the waiting room with the rest of our family right now, waiting for the arrival of his brother or sister. It rips my heart up that he’s not, but in this moment, I swear I feel his presence, like he’s right next to me. So close, and yet so far.
“One more push, Eden. This is it,” Dr. Kai says.
Leaning over, I kiss my wife’s forehead. “Let’s see what we’ve got, little mama.”
In this moment, the fear hits me as hard as it ever has. For almost eight months I’ve asked myself a million times if I have it in me to love another child as much as I loved Brady. What if I’m too broken? What if I fail? It feels like everything happens in slow motion as I wait.
“It’s a girl!” the doctor cheers.
As the doctor holds the baby up, she lets out her first cry and I see her little legs flailing. For a moment I’m transported back eleven years, to the last time I was in a delivery room. Just like then, the rush of love for that little life hits me so hard I nearly fall to my knees.
I realize I’m openly sobbing when Dr. Kai lays our daughter on Eden’s chest and I have to wipe away tears to see her little face. “She’s perfect,” Eden murmurs.
I nod my agreement. “I can’t believe we made her.”
Resting my cheek against Eden’s, I enjoy the moment as we both stare in wonder at the little life we created. Like her mother, she’s tiny and so beautiful I find it hard to catch my breath.
We whisper our love for each other and for her while we count her fingers and toes and get to know her. When the nurse comes to take the baby to clean her up, I’m not happy to see her go. Like her brother and her mother before her, Megan Juliette Beckett—named for Eden’s mother and my cousin— has taken hold of my he
art from the very first minute.
Eden was right. The heart always has room for more.
The End
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Acknowledgments
There aren’t enough words to thank my editors, Gemma & Ellie, for sticking with me through this. My life was wild during the writing of this book and I drove myself—and them—insane with extensions.
On that same note, thank you to Jo and Lucy from Give Me Books who were so incredibly gracious and accommodating during this time.
Thank you to Rochelle Paige and Beth Ehemann for holding me accountable and sprinting with me when I needed it. I’d be staring off into space without you both.
Thank you to all of the incredible author friends who have helped me through these last few months. The best parts of this industry are people like you. You all know who you are.
Also by Ella Fox
The Enamorado (In Love) Series
I Don’t
I Want
I Need
I Quit (coming fall 2018)
Novellas
Sin’s Temptation
Sweet Like Candy
Amber’s Allure
Out of Formation
The Hart Family Series
Broken Hart
Shattered Hart
Loving Hart
Unbroken Hart
Missing Hart
Finding Hart
The Renegade Saints (Rockstar Romance) Series
Picture Perfect
Twist of Fate
Between Us