by L. P. Dover
Taking my hand, Hunter places it on his groin. He’s hard and ready to go. “Maybe this time will be different.”
Shaking my head, I smile and unzip his jeans. “Hope you’re right.”
He starts to lower my sweat pants when something pops. We both freeze and I hold my breath. “What was that?” he asks.
As soon as I move my legs, that’s when I get my answer. “I think my water just broke.”
Eyes wide, he jumps to his feet and zips his pants. “Seriously?” He glances down at my soaked pants and sucks in a breath. “Holy shit, you’re right.”
He helps me to our room and I change my pants while he grabs my suitcase with all my toiletries and clothes along with boys and girls’ clothes for the baby. I’ve had the bag packed and ready to go for the past month.
Once we get to the hospital, that’s when the contractions start. By the time I’m registered and into a birthing room, the pain gets worse. It’s all happening so fast, I can’t believe the time has actually come. Tears stream down my cheeks and it takes all I have to get in a good breath. It feels like my whole body is being torn apart.
Hunter stays by my bed, rubbing my head as I suffer through the contractions. “I’m right here, Kennedy,” he murmurs.
“I know.” For the past seven months, he’s never left my side like he promised. I look down at my engagement ring, twinkling under the lights. I still haven’t given him an answer and never once has he asked since that night on the side of the road. “Hunter, I—”
Another contraction rips through my body and I clench my teeth, trying my best not to scream. Nurses come in and out of the room to check my vitals and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see Doctor Sells walk through the door. She’s my age with really short, blonde hair and has been my doctor ever since I turned eighteen.
“Are you ready yet?” she asks, sliding on a pair of gloves.
The contraction subsides and I can breathe. “More than ready.”
She checks to see how much I’ve dilated and looks at me with a smile. “I do believe it’s time.”
While she gets prepared, more nurses file into the room. I can’t believe I’m about to see my child for the first time. I glance over at Hunter and he has tears in his eyes. I regret not giving him the answer he wanted all those months ago. I know never to make that mistake again.
“I love you,” I whisper.
He kisses me gently. “I love you, too.”
I bring my hand up to his face. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it, baby?”
Another contraction tears through me and I cry out. The doctor gets into place and it’s like everything moves in slow motion. The pain is excruciating and I’m ready for it to end, but I keep pushing through. I squeeze Hunter’s hand and even though I know I’m doing it as hard as I can, it doesn’t seem to faze him. His eyes are on the little bundle of joy in the doctor’s arms.
Doctor Sells holds the baby up and I burst into tears; it’s a beautiful, baby girl with a wisp of red hair. “Congratulations,” she says happily, gently lying the precious bundle onto my chest. “Would you like to cut the cord?” She looks straight at Hunter, and his hand slightly shakes when he takes the scissors from the nurse. He carefully cuts the cord and breathes a sigh of relief when he’s done. By the expression on his face, I can tell he was worried he would hurt the baby.
Her fingers and toes are so tiny, but they’re all there. Hunter touches her little hand and wipes away his tears. “She’s perfect. Another girl to get me wrapped around her finger.” I laugh and cry at the same time.
“What are you going to name her?” the doctor asks.
Hunter and I hadn’t agreed to any specific names, but I say the first thing that leaves my lips. “Madelyn Louise.”
His mouth gapes and he stares at me. “You want to name her after my mother?”
I nod. “It’s a beautiful name.”
He looks down at our little girl with so much love it makes my heart swell. “Yes, it is. We can call her Maddy.” His hand brushes my cheek and he leans over to kiss me.
“There’s something else I want to tell you.” When his eyes meet mine, I can see my future. I’ve seen it all along, I was just too scared to grasp it.
“What is it?” he asks softly.
I glance down at the ring on my finger and he takes my hand. “My answer’s yes.”
His head jerks up. “Are we thinking about the same thing?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I hope so.”
Grabbing my face, he kisses me again and then rests his forehead to mine. “Then tell me. I want to hear you say it.”
“I want to be your wife, Hunter,” I murmur. “I’ve wanted it for so long, but I was afraid. I don’t feel that way anymore. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, with Madelyn, and however many kids we decide to have. I love you so much.”
He breathes a sigh of relief. “And I love you. You’ve honest to God made me the happiest man on Earth today. You’ve given me a daughter and said you’d be my wife. There’s nothing more in this world I want.”
The nurses clean up Maddy and bundle her up in a blanket before handing her over to Hunter. I can’t take my eyes off of them as he holds her close, whispering sweet words to her. “There’s nothing more I want either.”
~Stay tuned for the next installment in the Society X series . . . PLAY ROOM. ~
Heidi is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author.
Originally from Portland, Oregon and raised in the Pacific Northwest, she now lives in picturesque Vermont, with her husband and two daughters. Also renting space in their home is an over-hyper Beagle/Jack Russell, Buttercup, and their newest addition of a Highland Westie/Mini Schnauzer, JiLL.
During the day Heidi is behind a desk talking about Land Use. At night, she's writing one of the many stories planned for release or sitting courtside during either daughter's basketball games.
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, L.P. Dover, is a southern belle residing in North Carolina along with her husband and two beautiful girls. Before she even began her literary journey she worked in Periodontics enjoying the wonderment of dental surgeries.
Not only does she love to write, but she loves to play tennis, go on mountain hikes, white water rafting, and you can't forget the passion for singing. Her two number one fans expect a concert each and every night before bedtime and those songs usually consist of Christmas carols.
Aside from being a wife and mother, L.P. Dover has written countless novels including her Forever Fae series, the Second Chances series, the Gloves Off series, the Armed & Dangerous series, the Royal Shifters series, and her standalone novel, Love, Lies, and Deception. Her favorite genre to read is romantic suspense and she also loves writing it. However, if she had to choose a setting to live in it would have to be with her faeries in the Land of the Fae.
THE BEAUMONT SERIES
Forever My Girl
My Everything
My Unexpected Forever
Finding My Forever
Finding My Way
12 Days of Forever
My Kind of Forever
THE ARCHER BROTHERS
Here with Me
Choose Me
Save Me
THE BOYS OF SUMMER
Third Base
Home Run
Pinch Hit
VIRTUOUS PARADOX
Blow – November 2016
STANDALONE TITLES
The Reeducation of Savannah McGuire
Lost in You / Lost in Us
Blind Reality/Twisted Reality
FOREVER FAE SERIES
Forever Fae
Betrayals of Spring
Summer of Frost
Reign of Ice
SECOND CHANCES SERIES
Love’s Second Chance
Trusting You
Meant for Me
Fighting for Me
Intercepting Love
Catc
hing Summer
Defending Hayden
Last Chance
Intended for Bristol (December 2016)
GLOVES OFF SERIES
A Fighter’s Desire: Part One
A Fighter’s Desier: Part Two
Tyler’s Undoing
Ryley’s Revenge
Winter Kiss: Ryley & Ashley (A Gloves Off Novella)
Paxton’s Promise
Camden’s Redemption
Kyle’s Return
ARMED & DANGEROUS SERIES
No Limit
Roped In
High-Sided (October 2016)
ROYAL SHIFTERS SERIES
Turn of the Moon
Resisting the Moon
BREAKAWAY SERIES
Hard Stick
STANDALONE TITLE
Love, Lies, and Deception
Read on for a sneak peek at Forever my Girl by Heidi McLaughlin and Last Chance by L.P. Dover.
A light snore reminds me that I’m not alone. The heaviness of a body sprawled out, sets me off immediately. The stale smell of day old perfume lingers in the air and on my sheets.
The curtains are pulled back, the sun shining through the large window, which affords me the best view and privacy.
Rolling over, there’s a face I don’t remember. A face that holds no name in my recollection or any vivid memory of how she ended up in my hotel room let alone my bed.
The bed part I can probably figure out.
The blonde hair tells me that I didn’t bother to get her name or ask her what her favorite drink was. Guaranteed our conversation was eyes, hands and lips only. There is one hair color that can make my heart beat and blonde isn’t it.
Neither is red.
Eyes too.
Never blue.
They have to be brown or green, never blue.
This isn’t a downward spiral or some drug induced moment. I don’t do drugs, never have, but I may drink excessively on occasions like last night. This is me coping with my mistakes and failures. I may be successful when I’m on stage, but at night I’m alone.
And so freaking scared of dying alone.
I reach for my phone to check the time. Instead I pull up the gallery that holds her image, my thumb hovering over her face. I’ll see her when I go home and I don’t know what I’ll say.
I know she hates me.
I hate me.
I ruined her life. That is what her voice message said. The one I’ve saved for the past ten years. The one I’ve transferred from phone to phone just so I could hear her voice when I’m at my lowest. I can recite every hateful word she said to me when I was too busy to answer and never found the time to call her back.
Never found one second to call and explain to her what I had done to us. She was my best friend and I let her slip through my fingers just to save myself from the heartache of hearing she didn’t want me anymore.
I had dreams too.
And my dreams included her, but she would never have gone for it. I’m not living her American Dream. I’m living my own.
My decision destroyed everything.
My nameless bed cohabitant reaches out and strokes my arm. I move away quickly. Now that I’m sober, I have no desire to be anything to this person.
“Liam,” she says through her seductive tone that sounds like a baby. It makes my skin crawl when women talk like this. Don’t they see that it makes them sound ridiculous? No man worth his nuts likes this sort of thing. It’s not sexy.
Wrapping the sheet around my waist I sit up and swing my legs over the edge, away from her and her wandering hand. My back tenses when I feel the bed shift. Standing, I pull the sheet tighter to keep myself somewhat covered. I shouldn’t care, but
I do. She’s seen me in the dark, but I’m not affording her or her camera another look.
“I’m busy.” My voice is strict, a well-practiced monotone. “Jorge, the concierge, will make sure you get a cab home.”
I sleep purposefully facing the bathroom so I never have to look at them when I tell them to leave. It’s easier that way, no emotions. I don’t have to look at their faces and see the hope fade. Each one hopes they will be the one to tame me, to make me commit.
I haven’t had a steady girlfriend since I entered the industry and a one night stand isn’t about to change that. These girls don’t mean anything and never will. I could change. I could settle down and marry.
Have a kid or two. But why?My manager, Sam, would love it, especially if it was her. She’s my only repeat lay. The first time was an error in judgment, a lonely night on the road mistake. Now she wants more. I don’t.
When she told me she was pregnant I wanted to jump off a cliff. I didn’t want kids, at least not with her. When I think about having a wife, she’s tall and brunette. She’s toned from years of cheerleading and her daily five-mile run. She’s not a power hungry executive in the music industry who spoke of hiring nannies before a doctor could confirm her pregnancy.
She suggested marriage; I freaked and flew to Australia to learn to surf.
She miscarried two months in. I made a vow that we’d keep things professional from that point on and that is when I started my one night stand routine. Despite everything, she still loves me, and is waiting for me to change my mind.
“You know,” the barfly from last night starts to say in between shuffling and her huffed breathing as she puts on her clothes. “I heard you were a dick, but I didn’t believe it. I thought we had something special.”
I laugh and shake my head. I’ve heard it all, each one thinks we have something special because of the most amazing night they’ve ever had.
“I didn’t pick you for your brains.” I walk into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it for good measure.
Leaning against the door I bang my head against the solid wood. Each time I tell myself I’m going to stop, and I think I have until something makes me want to forget. My hands rake over my face in pure frustration.
I’m not looking forward to going home.
The reason for returning is staring at me from my bathroom counter. The page-long article of the guy I used to call my best friend. Picking up the paper, I read over the words that I have memorized.
Mason Powell, father of two, was killed tragically when the car he was driving was rear-ended by an eighteen wheeler.
Dead.
Gone.
And I wasn’t there.
I left like a coward when I didn’t say goodbye.
I changed my cell phone number because she wouldn’t stop calling. I had to make a clean break and Mason was part of that. She and Katelyn were best friends and he’d tell her where I was and what I was doing. It was better this way.
I was only meant to be gone a year. I told myself I’d return home after twelve months, make everything right and show her that I wasn’t the same person she fell in love with. She’d see that and thank me, move on and marry a yuppie businessman, one who wakes up every day and puts on a crisp dress shirt and pleated slacks that she’d iron in their Leave it to Beaver household.
I squeeze the paper in my hands and think about everything I’ve missed. I don’t regret it, I can’t. I did this for me and did it the only way I knew how. I just didn’t think I’d care so much about missing everything.
I missed the day he asked Katelyn to marry him. Something I knew he wanted to do since we were sixteen.
I missed his wedding and the birth of his twins. He was a father and a husband. He had three people who depended on him and now he’s gone. He’ll never see his children grow up and do the things that we did when we were younger. All the things we said our kids would do together. I missed this because I had something to prove to myself. I gave up on their dream and the life we had all planned out.
And now I’m heading home to face the music.
Read other books by Heidi McLaughlin
Read on for a sneak peek at LAST CHANCE: A Second Chances novel by New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, L.P. Dov
er.
“Crank, you stupid piece of donkey shit. Just two more miles, that’s it. I promise to never starve you again!” I yelled, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. I turned the key one last time, but the damn thing just sputtered. Groaning, I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wheel.
My sister was busy working at the restaurant we owned, and my best friend was most likely busy with her new, dreamy, football-playing husband. I had no one to call. When had I become such a loser?
Huffing, I pulled a pair of shorts and a tank top out of my bag and stripped down. If I was going to walk two miles in the blistering heat, I wasn’t going to do it wearing a blouse and pants. Already drenched in sweat, I got out of the car and winced as the sun beat down on my skin. There wasn’t a single cloud to hide the unforgiving sun. Summer was brutal in North Carolina.
“This has to be payback for something,” I whined, trekking alongside the road. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, the worst time of day. Either everyone was at work, or at home, relaxing by their pools. I was never going to let my car get below a quarter of a tank again. Ever.
A couple of people honked their horns, but no one stopped. What ever happened to southern hospitality?
A rumble came up from behind and a muffled shout called out, “Lara!”
Jerking to a stop, my breath caught in my lungs. I was surprised he would even take the time to pull over for someone in need. Luke Collins was all about getting pussy, twenty-four-seven. And I hated the fact I’d ever had a crush on him. Granted, he had gotten much worse since losing Kate to Cooper, but he was just such a douchebag. I guess putting his dick in whatever skank he could find was his way of dealing with a broken heart.
“Lara?” he shouted again.
Placing my hands on my hips, I turned, the light breeze from cars driving by blew my blonde hair into my face. He shut off his bike and slid off his helmet, his hair drenched in sweat. He gave me a smile that made me shiver. Damn him. “What do you want, Luke?”