Fearless Hart (A Cross Creek Small Town Novel Book 2)

by Kelly Collins

  “You’re welcome.” He kept right on walking, and I made my way to Bayden’s front door.

  Gathering my courage, I lifted my hand to knock. The sound was as quick as my pounding heart, and I leaped back a step and waited.

  “It’s open, Ethan. What did you forget?” His voice lowered to a grumble as he pulled open the door. His face froze in shock as he stared at me, and my gut dropped to my toes as I stared at the baby in his arms.

  Backing up a step, I swallowed hard, remembering why I’d come in the first place. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. I shouldn’t have come over without calling first. I was still riding the high of having spent the night with him, and the text he sent about missing me made me need to see him.

  “Want to come in?” He stepped back and gestured inside.

  I nodded, my legs trembling as I walked across the threshold, not taking my eyes off the sleeping baby.

  “Let me put him down,” Bayden said, and I nodded, sweat beading across my brow. The stumbling slams of my heart left me feeling ill, and I sank into a chair at his table while pressing my shaky hands to my thighs. I wasn’t prepared for him to have the baby or for it to affect me so profoundly.

  I guess that made this a better time to do what I’d planned, though. Bayden walked out, sans baby, and smiled at me. “Want a beer?”

  I nodded.

  He offered me one and grabbed a soda. At my curious expression, he lifted the can. “I’m still a nervous uncle and don’t want to have a drop of alcohol in my system in case something goes wrong, you know?” He nodded toward the other room, and I swallowed hard, understanding his concerns.

  “What’s up?” His straightforward, conversational tone was what I needed.

  I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  He seemed surprised, then hurt, and I realized he misunderstood.

  “I mean, I’m sorry for all the stress and not responding to the text and for being a pain. There are things I haven’t told you that you need to know.” I inhaled deeply.

  “I know,” he said. “But I told you, you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

  “I want to though.” Inhaling, I steeled myself for the rest. “When I was nine, my parents left me in charge of watching my sister.” I fought against the memory, refusing to let it take me under. I was going to tell the story, but I would tell it on my terms, without reliving it.

  He opened my beer, and I took a grateful gulp. He went to the fridge without a word, grabbed the six-pack, and set it before me with a nod.

  Relief flooded me. Alcohol might make it easier to talk. I knew I was safe with him, no matter what happened. I wanted a clear head, though, to remember every detail of this night. So as much as I appreciated his gesture, I wouldn’t take him up on it.

  I fiddled with the label on the bottle, picking at it absentmindedly. “She was six and didn’t see me as an authority figure, even though I was her bigger sister. She was a sassy one and had a stubborn streak that could rival a mule. We lived by a creek, not too different from Cross Creek, and she wanted to go for a swim. Although I tried to stop her, I couldn’t, and she left the house and went down to the water.” I took a drink, focused on a spot on the table, a swirl in the wood, refusing to let the images fill my mind’s eye.

  “The creek swelled from rain, so the current was faster, and the water was deeper than we were used to. The undercurrent caught her and swept her downstream, and she drowned. I stayed with her until help came.” My throat closed up, and I tried to take a sip of my beer, but I couldn’t swallow. I tabled the bottle, staring at it, afraid to look at Bayden.

  “Can I hug you?” he asked.

  I glanced at him, then stood up and threw myself into his arms. He held me tight, stroking my hair and talking tenderly to me. “Thank you for sharing that with me. What parent would think it’s okay to leave a six-and nine-year-old home alone? I’m sorry you went through such a traumatic event.”

  His voice soothed the beasts within me, and they slumbered. I clung to him, sobs breaking from my throat as he continued to love on me wordlessly.

  When I calmed down, he said, “Hey, you’re strong as hell, but you didn’t have to keep that inside for so long.” His lips gently touched mine.

  “Thank you,” I whispered against his mouth.

  “Thank you for opening up to me. It means a lot.” His smile warmed me up inside. “I know it was hard to do, and I’m proud of you.”

  For the first time in moments, I felt like I could breathe.

  “Is that why you’re afraid of kids?” he asked.

  I nodded. “I’m just not sure I’m cut out to be a mom, you know? I’d lost one child in my life. What if I lost my own, too? I couldn’t live through another loss like that.”

  He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted it until we were looking at one another in the eyes. “I respectfully disagree, but if you don’t want kids, then that’s okay. Not having kids isn’t a deal-breaker.”

  I pulled in a shaky breath. “You say that now, but what if you change your mind?” I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, pulling at a stray thread until the entire bottom came unraveled.

  He chuckled. “We all make choices and sacrifices. I want you more than I want kids. The outcome is the same. With or without you, there are no children in my future. That’s a lot easier to swallow if I have you.”

  “Even if I never want to have kids?” I didn’t want him hinging on some notion that I might change my mind. It was important to me to discuss it and be on the same page before we went further.

  He nodded. “I’ve already thought about it.” His gaze met mine.

  My eyes opened wide. “You knew?”

  “What? Your feelings about kids aren’t exactly a secret.”

  My heart sank. I was more transparent than I thought.

  “Kids aren’t my primary focus. You are. I want to spend my life with you, and that isn’t contingent on you popping out babies for me.” He made a face. “Okay, that was crude, I’m sorry. You know what I mean.”

  I knew what he meant, and my heart was lighter than it had been in a long time. “I’m not saying there’s no chance I’ll change my mind, but I want to make sure you still want to be with me if I don’t. Pressuring me to have kids later in our lives would not go well.”

  He nodded. “You have my word. I will never pressure you to have kids.” His head lifted, and he looked down the hall. “What does this mean about my time with Kip?”

  My lungs twisted, and all the air squeezed out. I couldn’t live with myself if I took away his time with his nephew. “We can work something out. I don’t want to come between you and your family. I can’t ... you know? I can’t handle the responsibility and the what-ifs.”

  Relief filled his features. “I understand. You’ve been through a hell of an ordeal, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to work with you on it.”

  His words told me how lucky I was to have him in my life, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I’d come here to air the truth. “Thank you for being patient with me.” Most people would not have been, but Bayden was not most people.

  “I want you to be happy and comfortable, Miranda. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips, and I could feel the honesty in his words.

  I was a lucky woman. After a moment, I realized I was no longer shaking.

  “There’s more.” I needed to tell him the whole truth. I took a seat in the corner chair and finished my beer.

  “I’m listening,” he said. “Nothing you say is going to send me running for the hills. I will always be by your side.”

  I smiled. “Thank you.” How did he know what to say to put me at ease? “My parents … they call me a lot. They only call to tell me that her death is my fault and that her blood is on my hands. I’ve heard it for over two decades, and part of me believes it. I mean … it was my job to protect her, and I didn’t.”

  An annoyed look settled into h
is eyes. “This isn’t your fault. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. They did. And them blaming you … that’s insanity.”

  I nodded, totally agreeing with him. “That’s why I left that night at the bar,” I said, needing to tell him the whole truth.

  “I wish I’d have known then. I would have comforted you. You know you don’t have to do all of this alone, right?” He reached out and touched my knee. I stared at his hand, feeling his warmth and comfort seep into my skin and deep into my bones.

  “I thought I did.” It was always my burden to bear, and I’d borne it alone for so long. I had no right to put that much on someone else’s shoulders.

  “You thought wrong. I would have told you what nut jobs your parents are.” He sat back, his hand leaving my leg. “I can’t believe they blame you. It’s not your fault, and you shouldn’t put up with their shit.”

  His indignation brought tears to my eyes.

  I nodded. “This is the first year I told them off.”

  He let out a whoop, startling me, and I jolted. “You told them off? Good job! What did you say?” He leaned in like I was getting into the good stuff.

  “That they were the adults, not me. I told them it was their fault, their responsibility to keep us safe. It didn’t go well. My mother lost it, and my dad is furious. They told me it should have been me and not her. Sometimes I think they’re right. At least if I were gone, I wouldn’t have to endure their torture any longer.”

  He lifted a hand. “Stop. What the hell is wrong with them? They lost one child and then just tossed you away. That’s insane. You should have never listened to them.”

  I nodded. “I know, but my parents are broken.” I didn’t know how else to describe them. “I thought if I put up with it long enough, they’d come to terms with their grief and get better. This year, I realized it’s only getting worse, and I’m done.”

  I was tired of being accused of killing my sister when I never truly got over her death, either.

  “Oh, love, come here.” He pulled me into his arms. “You deserved better from them. I understand you wanted to protect them, and that speaks volumes to who you are, but nobody deserves what they’ve put you through all these years.”

  I blinked as fresh tears rolled down my cheeks. My throat closed off, and I clung to him, needing his support and love. “I thought it would make a difference, but all it did was ruin me.”

  “Now you know better. Do you think you can focus on making a difference for yourself? For us?” His soft words spoke to some lost part of me.

  “Yes. I’m ready for things to change.” I was ready.

  He pressed his lips to my head, and without a word, his hands stroked my back and hair.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you too,” he answered back, his lips still on top of my head.

  Finally, all was right in the world. If the peace only lasted this moment, it would go down as the best moment of my life. Bayden Lockhart loved me.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bayden

  Miranda’s terrified eyes met mine as she lifted her phone with shaky hands. I gave her a nod and squeezed her leg to offer strength. Side by side on the couch, we braced for what was coming. I think we both thought it was going to be unpleasant and painful, but it was also a necessary call.

  For an entire week, we lost ourselves in one another. With all the love we shared, I couldn’t want for more. The touching was nice, too, but the talking was cathartic. Finally, after opening up to one another, we made progress and we were officially a couple.

  She confided in me about her sister and told me about her life and hellish backstory. I told her mine, though it was far less tragic.

  Like a cloud, the insistent ringing of her phone had hung over us. Even with it set to silent, she constantly stared at the device, thinking about the real possibility they were calling, and they called a lot. A lesser person would have written them off, but Miranda cared about everyone, including two people who brought her into this world only to destroy her existence. While she loved others, she needed to learn to love herself.

  She asked me to be here for her while she tried to call and reason with her parents, and I hadn’t hesitated. The time had come to fix things or move on. Miranda had the power and control this time, and the decision was hers.

  I wasn’t sure she was ready for the outcome, but I was here for her, regardless. She exhaled before dialing and bringing the phone to her ear.

  The screech at the other end of the line hurt my ears. “You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts, you ungrateful little b—”

  “Mom.” Miranda’s calm tone halted her mother’s abuse. “You need to stop and listen.” Her lip quivered, but her voice didn’t crack. “I know how much you’re hurting, but I hurt too. It’s not my fault that Alisa died. I was a child—a nine-year-old, and I should never have been tasked with keeping her safe.”

  I rubbed her leg, proud of her for being so calm and concise when I was so mad I wanted to shout at her harpy mother. That woman didn’t deserve the title of parent.

  The fear in Miranda’s eyes bothered me, and I wished I could make this easier for her. I would have given anything to take the burden from her and carry it, so she didn’t have to, but we both knew she needed to face them and their unfair, bullshit accusations. I couldn’t do this for her, but I could support her while she waded through it. There was no way I’d let her drown in despair and guilt. Hadn’t her sister’s death been enough?

  “You were supposed to keep her safe!” Her mother’s scream tore at my heart. Despite the call not being on speaker, I heard every cruel word.

  The woman hadn’t healed from her daughter’s death. How could she, if she never faced the truth?

  “No, Mom, you were supposed to keep her safe. You and Dad needed to keep both of us safe. My sister was never my responsibility. She was yours.” Miranda’s firm refusal to take the blame for her sister’s death filled me with pride. It had taken many conversations and a lot of time for her to come to terms with the truth. She didn’t kill her sister. It was a tragic accident that could have been prevented had her parents been responsible. In hindsight, how could they take responsibility for the action when they didn’t even take care of their kids? Some people should never be parents. Sadly, Miranda wasn’t one of them. Not only had her mother and father stolen her childhood, but they stole her confidence and desire to be a mom because they’d planted a lie so deeply inside her, she believed it to her core.

  “I want to move past this, though.” Her hopeful tone left me praying her parents wouldn’t crush her. “I want to be a family in whatever way we’re able, and I think we can all heal from this if we try.”

  “Heal? Heal from you killing your sister?” Her mother’s shrill voice radiated toxicity through the room, and Miranda’s shoulders drooped. “How could we heal from what you did?”

  I hated that every word out of the woman’s mouth was an accusation.

  “I told you, you should never have left a six-year-old home with a nine-year-old. Her accidental death is not my fault.” Twin tears rolled down Miranda’s cheeks, and my heart ached for her. I pulled her into a hug and let her rest against my chest. Her weight settled onto me, and I hoped she could feel me offering love and support. She deserved better than her shit parents.

  “It is your fault.” Her father’s bellowing took over. “You should have locked the door and kept her inside!”

  I rubbed her back with one hand. Every muscle in her body was taut, and she trembled in my arms. I wanted to jump in but knew that Miranda had to handle this. She couldn’t gain strength from the experience if someone else solved the problem. She’d let it go on for far too long.

  “I locked the door, Alisa was six, not stupid, and knew how to unlock it.” Miranda had told me every detail of that day. The more she divulged, the more confident I was that the sequence of events that day was not her fault, even if her parents thought so. The bottom line was they should
have never left those little girls alone. The fact that only one of their children died still stunned me. Blind luck had saved Miranda’s life that day, and I was grateful to the universe for sparing her.

  “Then you should have blocked her from opening the door.” Her mother’s voice sounded like metal being crushed.

  Goosebumps covered my arms, and the tiny hairs prickled as they stood on end. One thing was for sure—I hated her mother.

  “I tried.” Miranda somehow stayed calm.

  I continued stroking her back, hair, and neck, trying to rub the tension from her frame.

  “You shouldn’t have left us alone that day.” Once again, Miranda hurled responsibility back at her parents. What was becoming evident to me was that it didn’t matter what Miranda said. Her parents would never accept any blame for their part in their daughter’s tragic death. Perhaps they needed to blame Miranda to get through the day like she thought, but that was no excuse. What they needed to do was accept blame, get help, and fix their lives.

  I gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder, the gesture we’d agreed on if I thought the conversation was going nowhere. She nodded, silently acknowledging she felt the same. Her choices and actions were her own, but I wanted to make sure she knew how it looked from the outside. I worried that her parents would suck her back into guilt and use her as a punching bag again, and she deserved better.

  “You killed your sister.” Her mother’s argument circled right back to the beginning, and I sighed. They were a lost cause, and Miranda needed to wash her hands of them. I’d warned her of that possibility, though I wasn’t one bit happy to be right.

  If her parents didn’t accept that they needed help, that they could be wrong, or if they didn’t want help, then there was nothing Miranda could do to fix anything. She glanced up, giving me a sad, helpless shrug, and I hugged her. Every bit of me wanted to squeeze away her pain and fix her problems. Of course, I couldn’t, but I wanted to.

  “I guess you’re not hearing me.” Miranda’s sigh broke my heart. “I hope that you guys get therapy someday. I think talking to someone would help you come to terms with this loss. I’ll be doing the same. One thing is for certain, I’m done letting you treat me like crap. Stop calling me to torture me, or I’m going to block your number for good.”