“Never crossed my mind, my man.”
I get into my truck and let myself shut off. It’s then that I realize how fucking tired I am and how much I’ve been through in the last few days. It’s a lot to take in, and I need to decompress in a bad way. My bed is definitely calling my name.
* * *
My apartment isn’t much, but it’s mine. I don’t have to worry about a drunk or high dad appearing around a corner when I least expect it. I don’t have to listen for the tears of a mom who’s not strong enough to leave or to escape her own demons. The quiet is my friend. I’m not one of those people who constantly has to have something playing in the background. I appreciate the silence.
I’ve had so little of it in my life.
Putting my keys on the breakfast bar, I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull my cell phone out, seeing that I’ve missed a text from Whitney.
“Damnit.”
W: Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow night in a neutral spot and come to an agreement about what we both want. I have no intention of making this difficult for you and I believe we should be able to meet each other halfway.
She’s issued an olive branch, and I’d be a dumbfuck not to take it. I need to grab on and hold it with both hands. This is what I want, I want to be a part of my child’s life. There is nothing negotiable about that; at this point I’ll do what she asks just to get my foot in the door.
R: I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow night. We can go to Birmingham, that way we won’t run into anyone we know. We’ve got to work this out before we announce it. I want us to tell Trevor together.
I hope she’s agreeable to what I’ve laid out. It means a lot that we tell Trevor; I don’t like hiding things from him, I never have. He’s always been there for me, no matter what’s gone on in my life. He was one of the only people in my teenage years who knew exactly what was going on in my home. He never betrayed my trust, and I don’t want to betray his.
My phone beeps as she comes back to me.
W: Sounds good, but I’ll drive myself. If things don’t go well, I don’t want us to have to drive back in stony silence. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow night.
Feeling better about things than I have all day, I finish emptying out my pockets and take off my boots, setting them next to the door in the hallway. The military and my upbringing makes me want to be an organized man. I don’t like clutter, I don’t like things not in their places, and I hate having loose ends dangling. That’s part of the reason why I need to get this situated with Whitney – I need to know where my place is in her life. After not knowing my place for so long, I vowed to myself I would always know where I stand.
Grabbing a towel, I take off my clothes and put them in the hamper. Reaching into the shower, I turn on the hot water and wait for it to regulate to the temperature I want it to be. More than anything today, I need this shower to wash the dirt off of me and reveal the man I’ve become instead of the boy that I was.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Whitney
I don’t think I’ve ever been this nervous in my life. Running my hands down the jeans I’m wearing, I hope to dry some of the sweat off of them. As I pull my SUV into the parking lot and find a parking spot, I see Ryan’s truck already there. That boy is nothing, if not punctual. I look down at the clock on my dashboard to see that I’m fifteen minutes early myself. Makes me wonder how long he’s been here; he was probably wondering if I’d show up or not.
He sees me and gets out of his truck, walking over towards my vehicle. I can’t help but watch him as he strolls across the blacktop. There’s something about the way he walks that shows his authority. He doesn’t look down, his gaze is always straight ahead, even though his hands are tucked into his pockets. The jeans he wears are just the right amount of loose, the black t-shirt he wears hugs his body tight. The aviators covering his eyes give him an air of mystery. With the boots on, he looks like he owns the place. My hands shake as I take my key out of the ignition and reach over for my purse. That walk tells me that he’s here to play hardball with me, that he’s not going to give up as easily as I hoped he would.
My door opens, and he offers his hand to me. “Hey,” he grins, pushing his sunglasses up further on his head and I see again why I gave into him so easily that night. Those soulful brown eyes and that damn grin. When he grins, it brings up memories of his head between my thighs and twisted sheets. So what I don’t need to be remembering right now.
“Hi yourself,” I take his hand and let him help me down. There’s a part of me that wants to give him nothing of myself, to let him see the ice queen portrayal I can give when I need to keep my feelings out of situations, but there’s another part of me that wants to live in this moment. Ryan enjoys life and I wish so much I could be like him. Maybe I can let him teach me things outside of the bedroom. The only thing I have to do is give him a chance – the chance though is the hardest damn part.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, trying to fill the awkward silence stretching between us.
I haven’t eaten much today because I’ve been so nervous and I answer him truthfully. “Starving, but I’m nervous about our conversation.”
“Hell, Whit, I don’t want you to be nervous about it. Nothing has to be decided tonight, but I think we do have to respect each other’s wishes or at least try to come to an understanding of our own positions.”
It’s a mature stance to take, and I have to admit that I’m proud of him for taking it, but it doesn’t make it much easier for me. I wish he was being unreasonable, that he was giving me cause to tell him to get out of my life for good, but he’s not. He doesn’t want me to do this alone, and he’s being more than understanding about it.
“I hope we can do that, too.”
Ryan
I feel like I’m failing at some sort of test that I didn’t even know I was taking. We’ve been sitting at this table for over an hour and have yet to approach any subject that surrounds this unborn child we’re having. Conversation has been stilted and polite. Whitney is the consummate southern debutante not wanting to rock the boat, but that fucker needs to be capsized.
“We’ve eaten, we’ve had polite conversation, now can we talk about what we really came here to talk about?” I ask, situating myself in my seat so that I’m a little closer to her. I see her stiffen as she closes off a part of herself.
“I guess we should,” she admits, but I can tell that this is the last thing she wants to do.
I wait for her to open up the lines of communication, but she doesn’t take the first step, and I realize that this is where I’m supposed to man up and make sure this is talked through. Her floundering is her request for help, and I can’t mistake the way her eyes flutter at mine, nervous energy shining brightly in them. “I’m going to tell you what I want, and you tell me if it’s possible, okay?”
She nods, taking a healthy drink of her water.
“I want to be a part of this baby’s life. Doctor’s appointments and Lamaze classes, I want to be there. In a perfect world, we would live together, because I don’t want you to have to go through everything by yourself, but I know that’s not in the cards for us right now.”
Her eyes grow round, her face goes ghostly white. “Live together? Like a real couple?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I didn’t have the best childhood growing up, I don’t know if Trevor’s ever told you anything about it. For the most part, I don’t share that with many people.”
She shakes her head. “Trevor’s never mentioned a word to me about it.”
“He’s a good friend. Right now, I don’t want to get into it, but let’s just say I always wanted to do kids the right way.”
Whitney shifts closer to me. “I did too, but it looks like fate had other plans for us. I promise to keep you updated on what’s going on with the baby, but I can’t guarantee you we’ll ever have a relationship, Ryan. I just can’t do that.”
A piece of my teenage heart breaks off in my chest and floats
around in there, banging against the bone. I literally put my hand to my sternum and rub. Hearing those words was a thousand times more painful than I ever assumed they would be. “I understand,” I tell her.
“And I want you to understand, it’s not because I don’t find you attractive. I do. I think you’re a great guy, but desperate situations sometimes throw people into things they would never be a part of otherwise.”
I want this woman to know I’m not some dumb kid. I’ve got a good head on my shoulders, I’ve been to war for fuck’s sake. “Like an eighteen-year-old joining the Army so he can get away from the pieces of shit that raised him? Trust me, Whit, I know all about desperate situations. This isn’t my first.”
Shock is written on her face and that kind of makes a part of me happy. No one should ever assume they know another person’s life. They should never assume that by all outward appearances someone is okay. A smile – it hides a shit ton of pain.
“I’ll text you my appointment times,” she tells me, resolve now on her face.
Good, she knows I’m not going anywhere now, and that’s exactly how I want it to be.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Whitney
So far I’ve been pretty lucky. Other than a few times, morning sickness hasn’t been a blip on my radar. Today that changed in a major way. I take a look at myself in the mirror and squeeze my cheeks, hoping to put some color into them. I still have the nasty taste in my mouth since I have no toothpaste or mouthwash. I hope it doesn’t cause me to get sick again. I have to figure this out, I have to pull myself together and make this work.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go home?” Addison, asks as I come out of the ladies room for the third time in the last hour. I hope that no one has noticed and that no one thinks I was on a bender the night before. That’s the last thing that I need right now.
I shake my head. Being able to do my job, being able to support myself is the only thing that’s kept me going for years. It was the one thing that pulled me through my divorce. It forced me to get up every morning, put my feet on the floor, and face the day. It didn’t matter how crappy that day was, I faced it because I knew I had to. If I give up that piece of myself now, where will I be? Besides in a few months, I’ll be a single mother. No matter what Ryan says, I’ll still be getting up at night by myself and doing things on my own. No matter what he thinks, what he wants to give, or what he feels I deserve, I don’t expect anything from him. I won’t because I’m used to doing for myself. I pop a peppermint into my mouth, the only thing I’ve found that’s halfway soothing my stomach today and square my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. “This is something I’m going to have to live with, something I’m going to have to learn to maneuver around. This kid isn’t going anywhere.” It’s the same thing I’ve been telling myself all morning.
“Are we ready, Whitney?”
I turn around, facing the mother of the bride and hope that I don’t look as awful as I did a few minutes ago in the restroom or as awful I still feel. This is one of the most important clients I’ve ever had, and I can’t screw this up.
“We are,” I tell her, going through my mental checklist. At least I’m pretty positive I’m not lying. I can do this job to the best of my ability without anyone knowing that the child in my womb is wrecking my stomach. “Tell Peyton that it’s okay for her to come out, and I’ll get everything situated. This is going to go off without a hitch.”
I watch as the mother of the bride goes back into the bridal suite and give myself a talking to. Nothing that I’m going through can ruin my client’s experience. I have to put my own issues aside and make this the perfect day for the people who are paying me. My reputation counts on it, and my business needs it. With a looming maternity leave, I’m going to need to bank everything I can.
Addison is beside me, holding my arm. I’m not sure whether it’s to get my attention or if she just wants to make sure that I stay upright. “I’ll make sure everything is set up, but if everyone has done their job we should be fine.”
I employ only the best, and I know without a doubt that we should be. I’m through with the peppermint, so I grab a cracker out of my emergency stash and will it to stay down. I will never again be relying on someone else to make my way through this world. Even if that person is named Renegade, has arms of steel, and eyes I could lose myself in. I have to prove that I can do this for me.
Ryan
I’m in my element at the shooting range. It’s a place where I can control all the variables, and it’s also a place that I can let my anger and anxiety go as I focus on the piece of paper in front of me. It’s important that all of us keep our skills sharp, but it’s also something that’s carried over since my military days.
“Did you ever think about being a sniper?” Holden asks as he stands next to me, examining my shots.
I’ve put a few rounds into the heart and head of this piece of paper and it feels good to know I haven’t lost my touch. No matter what the situation, I’m still good under pressure and I can protect whoever needs it. “I thought about it, even applied to school, but I couldn’t bring myself to go,” I tell him.
It’s hard to explain to people who aren’t familiar with the military way of life that – at least for me – kill or be killed was different than being a contract killer. To me being a sniper was no more than someone putting a bounty on someone else’s head, and my conscious couldn’t take it.
Looking back, it probably had to do with the fact that my parents would purposely put me in situations where I was forced to make a decision, taking away options for me. I had a really hard time taking away options for someone else, which was why I never wanted to put a bullet in someone else’s head.
I think that’s why I’m having an issue with letting Whitney call the shots on everything having to do with this baby. I’m trying though, trying to tamp down the need inside that says if she won’t offer it to me, I’ll be forced to take it.
“You alright?” Holden asks. I realize then that I’m standing there like an idiot, holding my gun, looking at nothing in particular.
Holden is our leader. If something is bothering me, realistically he’s the first person I should go to when I’ve needed to talk to someone. Obviously Trevor is out of the question, which explains why I blurt it out.
“Tank’s sister and I are having a baby, and he doesn’t know yet.”
Holden is quiet for a minute, before he whistles through his teeth. “Son of a bitch, Renegade, he’s gonna kill you.”
Don’t I know it. At least being here at the gun range says that I’m preparing for the inevitable.
Whitney
It’s close to ten at night when I turn onto my street. I’m yawning and I’m exhausted, but happy. The wedding went off flawlessly. The bride was happy, the groom was happy, and the flower girl made it all the way down the aisle before she had a meltdown. All in all, it was an amazing night. My team and I did our job to the best of our abilities, but it took a lot out of me. When the wedding party looks back at the pictures, they hopefully won’t see how tired and pale I look. They won’t pay attention to how dead my team is on their feet, if we’re somehow in the background. Hopefully all they’ll see that we made their dreams come true and gave them the best time of their lives.
“Shit,” I whisper as I pull into my driveway and turn off my SUV. Parked in the back far enough away that you can’t see it from the street near the storage building is Ryan’s truck, and given that there’s a light on in the house, I see he’s let himself in again.
Grabbing my purse and shoes, which I took off hours ago and replaced with flip flops because my feet hurt too much, I get out of my SUV. I’m slow as I walk up to the back door and let myself in. I’m not prepared for what’s waiting for me.
Ryan is standing at my stove, cooking something that smells delicious. My mouth waters and I realize then how long it’s been since I’ve eaten.
“I see you’ve made yourself
at home,” I joke, putting my purse on the counter along with my expensive heels.
“You should just give me a key, sweetheart. Then I won’t have to keep breaking into your back door,” he picks up his keyring and jingles it at me.
I’m not quite sure how I feel about him possibly having a key to my house. It doesn’t instill fear or anxiety in me, so there’s that, but at the same time I’m not sure I want to give up any of the freedom I’ve become accustomed to. Instead of answering him, I give him a small smile and a non-committal “We’ll see.” I pull out the chair I have at the breakfast bar, gratefully sinking into it, sighing as I do so.
“Long day?”
I nod as I take a good look at him. He’s as mouthwatering as whatever it is he’s cooking. The jeans he wears hugs his ass in an almost loving caress, and the shirt covering his torso clings to his back just enough to make me want to go tear it off of him. Since the night with him, my dreams have been plagued. While I’ve never been a sexually needy type person in the past, now all my dreams are filled with a play-by-play of what we did to create this child.
“Are you hungry?” He turns around, and I’m breathless. Renegade is a good-looking man.
“Famished.” It’s then that I realize I don’t have to lie. Whatever was making it difficult for me to eat earlier in the day is now gone, and I think I could attack him and gnaw off his arm.
“Good,” he gives me a panty-melting smile. “Dinner is served.”
I slowly get up from the bar and follow him over to the table where he has two place settings already prepared. Experience with my ex has me questioning what this is all about, but for once, I’m going to put the part of me that’s wary about all things nice in a box and enjoy this for what I hope it is. A nice guy cooking dinner for the woman who accidentally got pregnant with his baby.
Renegade (Moonshine Task Force Book 1) Page 7