Love To Love You (Love/Hate #3)

by Isabelle Richards

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Epilogue

  Coming Soon

  Acknowledgments

  Other Books by Isabelle Richards

  When Fates Collide Series

  When Fates Collide

  When Fate Isn’t Enough

  When Fates Align

  Love/Hate Series

  Hate To Love You

  Love To Hate You

  Love To Love You

  Copyright © 2016 Isabelle Richards Books

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

  The following book contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual content. It is intended for mature audiences only.

  Editor: Cassie Cox

  Cover Design: Regina Wamba

  Cover Models: Joshua Gawrysiak and Chelsea Lawrence

  Chapter One

  Arianna

  “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t,” she cries. “No more. Please. No more.”

  “Look at me.”

  Her pinched lids pry apart just enough so that I can see her brown eyes.

  “I know you’re scared. I know you’re in pain. I know you’re tired. But there is a head popping out of your vagina. This baby’s coming whether you’re ready or not.” I grab her hand. “I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere, and you just can’t quit on me. You can’t quit on your baby. When the next contraction comes, you need to push.”

  Panting, she nods. She winces as the next contraction hits.

  Thirty seconds later, I’m looking at the most beautiful baby in the world. She’s covered in blood and ooze and slime and basically looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, but she’s breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything so spectacularly amazing as watching this child take her first breath. A brand-new life, full of potential and possibility, has come into the world. I look at her wrinkled, goo-covered face and think, I’m holding the future in my hands. She could become anything. Do anything. Change everything.

  She squirms as I examine her. I have no idea what I’m looking for specifically, but I check to make sure she’s breathing and there isn’t any gunk in her mouth. Ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. She’s perfect. I look at her one last time. This is where it all begins, kid. Where it goes from here is up to you.

  I wrap my T-shirt around her, then hand her to her mother. “Well done, amai.”

  Of all the things I expected to do today, delivering a baby wasn’t one of them. I had been up all night, tossing and turning. After spending fifteen hours yesterday putting up studs for the school, I should’ve slept like a rock, and I would have too if my camp weren’t full of NFL players who snore like buzz saws.

  I was very selective when assembling my invitation list for this project. I didn’t pick the biggest names in football. In fact, most of the people here aren’t household names. I wasn’t looking for stars or names that hold marquee value. I hand-selected players I thought would take this project as seriously as I do. Players who have come from nothing and know how valuable a helping hand can be. Players who have been homeless at one time or another and know how cold it can be to live without a roof. Players who grew up in foster care and know how much a good home can change everything. I picked players who have worked construction during seasons they weren’t picked up by teams. I picked players whose wives are teachers, nurses, doctors, engineers, architects. He gives us the muscle, and she gives us her brain. Together, I have a fantastic group of people who genuinely want to make difference.

  If it weren’t for the snoring, they would be perfect. There’s a symphony of snoring every night that our tent walls do nothing to block out. I don’t know how, but Chase sleeps right through it.

  Last night was particularly bad. By the time the sun started to peek over the horizon, all the snoring was driving me insane. If I’d had to hear one more snort, phlegm rattle, or choking sound, I was likely to start smothering people with my pillow. Going for a run seems like a wise alternative to homicide, so I lace up, slip on my knee brace and roll out. The security team mapped out a safe zone. As long as I stay within the perimeter, I shouldn’t get eaten by a lion or kidnapped.

  I was about seven miles into my run when I found a woman in labor collapsed on the side of the dirt road. Zinzile, or Zin as I’ve been calling her, is from a small village west of here. In the last year, she’s lost everyone in her family and is now completely alone in the world. She heard about the new orphanage and school being built in Maznka, so she walked through the savannah for four days, hoping if her baby was born here, he or she might have a chance at a better life than she could provide.

  Nine months pregnant and she walked for four days! It’s quite a testament to how dire things have become in Zimbabwe. The government didn’t have the capital or infrastructure to help rebuild once the flood waters receded, leaving millions of people homeless. The economy has crumbled. It’s been touted as the country of the starving millionaires. One hundred million Zimbabwean dollars is worth about four American bucks.

  To make matters worse, the government’s more corrupt than ever. It cost me an extra hundred thousand dollars in “fees” just to get approval to come here. When you’re on a million-dollar budget, losing ten percent hurts, so I paid the bribes out of my own pocket. Seeing Zin with her daughter, knowing how hard she fought just to give her a chance at going to the school I’m building, makes every penny worth i
t.

  When I found her, her water had broken and contractions had started. There wasn’t time for me to run back and get help, and I wasn’t about to leave her to deliver this baby alone. I unclipped the walkie-talkie from the back of my pants and radioed back to the village. Someone from the security team picked up and promised to send help right away. I promised Zin everything would be okay. Women have been giving birth for thousands of years without doctors or hospitals, so I knew we could do this.

  “We” is a bit of a stretch. She did all the work. All I did was catch.

  About twenty minutes after the baby is born, the cavalry arrives. Rachel and Mary, both doctors and NFL wives, rush out of the van. Rachel immediately checks on Zin. Apparently, the job isn’t done when the baby comes out. They certainly gloss over that part on TV. Mary looks me over. As I delivered the baby without gloves, she tells me to make sure I get checked out as soon as I get home, just to be on the safe side.

  Chase hops out of the van. “Are you that eager to show me up that you rush out of camp in search of a pregnant woman to save? That’s a little petty, isn’t it?”

  Chase and I have been in uber competition mode since we got here. Who can put up the most drywall. Who can make a door frame the fastest. Who can eat the most tsambatsi fruit. Our crew thinks it’s hilarious and has no problem offering up new challenges for us to compete over.

  About a week ago, he saved a little boy who fell in the river. It was really a miraculous rescue. Chase had been at least a hundred yards away, moving lumber, when he heard the kid screaming. He sprinted to the river and got the little boy out just before the current swept him away. All the NFL guys keep teasing me that until I have a rescue under my belt, I’ll always be in second place. Delivering a baby should bump me up in the ranks.

  The early morning sun casts a warm glow over him, and my breath hitches. I’ve known Chase my entire life, and butterflies still flutter in my stomach at the sight of him. A broad smile spreads across his face. Chase’s skin is bronzed from the sun, and his brown hair has sun-kissed streaks.

  “You caught me. As soon as you fall asleep at night, I scour the area for anyone in need of rescue. This lady actually had the baby last week, but I slipped her a twenty to pretend she just had her now just so I could one-up you. Saving a mom and a baby has to count for more than just one kid,” I tease. “Not that any of that will matter to the villagers. I could save a million babies, and it wouldn’t matter. All I’ll ever be is the road block to you.”

  All of the women in the village were already in love with him. After his big rescue, they now worship him. I’m just waiting for them to start bowing at his feet.

  He hands me a wet towel. “Rachel said you’d probably need this.” He looks at my blood-coated arms and legs. “That’s an understatement.”

  I lean forward and kiss him. “Saving lives is a dirty business,” I say as I scrub off the blood. “What took you guys so long?”

  “That GPS tracker isn’t as pin-point accurate as we were led to believe. We’ve been driving around for thirty minutes trying to find you.” He looks at Zin. “You actually delivered the baby?”

  “I did,” I reply, smiling proudly. “It was amazing. Possibly the most spectacular experience of my life.”

  He leans forward and whispers into my ear, “Are you okay? I mean…”

  I meet his gaze and see the worry in his eyes. It’s understandable. Since my miscarriage, babies have been a difficult subject for me. When my best friend, Charlie, announced she was pregnant, I had a mini-breakdown. “Mini” may actually be too generous. Some diaper commercials still affect me more than they should. I get pangs in my chest when I see new dads walking around with babies in their arms. But the pangs are just fleeting moments of longing. Nothing that’s going to spark a nuclear meltdown.

  “From the moment I saw this poor woman was in trouble, I could only think about helping her. Nothing else entered my mind. Holding that baby for her first moment of life… Chase… there aren’t words to describe it. I was too wrapped up in the moment to think about anything else.”

  Of course my heart aches a little for what could have been, but more than anything, it makes me think about the future. I know children are in our future. According to Chase, an iron man football team full of them. But we always talk about them as part of the distant future. A week ago, I would have said I needed more time before I could even think about it but… maybe we’re closer than I thought.

  “Let’s get them back,” Rachel says. “The baby needs to be cleaned, and Zinzile needs an IV and some rest.”

  We quickly pack up and go back to the village, where the women of the village welcome Zin with open arms. Their resources are stretched as thin as can be, but they would never turn anyone away. As much as I would love to just sit and look at the baby all day, I need to get back to work. This orphanage isn’t going to build itself.

  The team and I work until the last drop of sun slips away for the night, then we sit with the villagers for dinner and a bonfire. They eat some sort of antelope with a side of worms while I nibble on my sunflower seeds and cashews. Being vegan out here’s not easy; thankfully I planned ahead and bought ready-to-eat meals from a military supplier. There’s not too much variety, it’s mostly stale bread and slimy peanut butter and jelly that taste like eating purple markers. But it’s better than starving, because there is no way I could eat Bambi over there.

  I spend the first part of the night looking after Matida, the baby, while Zin sleeps in one of the huts. I could stare at Matida all night. Sadly, I don’t get to keep her long before someone else swoops in and takes her.

  I find Chase by the bonfire, telling the kids stories. They look at him with wide eyes, hanging onto every word as though he’s telling the greatest story ever. Little do they know he’s just retelling the plots from Disney movies. Even though they aren’t original, his delivery really makes them special.

  Once all the kids are off to bed, I sit in his lap and look at the stars. I’ll miss the nights here when we leave. The sky’s lit up by millions of stars, so many it looks like something only Hollywood could create. I’ve spent night after night in Chase’s arms, looking at the stars and chatting with the villagers and other people on my team.

  Tonight, everyone is worn out and heads to bed early. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep through Snorapalooza. Chase and I sit by the fire, and he runs his thumb along my left forefinger, tracing the place where my ring should be. He proposed the night before we left for Africa, but our security company warned us not to wear any jewelry at all. So my ring went back into the safe.

  I look over my shoulder at him. “Are you ready for all the wedding mayhem that will erupt as soon as we announce?”

  “Do you think it’ll be bad?” he asks.

  I snort. “Bad will be an understatement. Whatever privacy we have left will be gone. People and the press go crazy over weddings. The fact that it will be our wedding will just make it worse.” I kiss his cheek. “These may be the last moments of peace and quiet we have. Enjoy them while they last.”

  He taps his fist on his knee. “Damn. I figured that since both of us have been engaged before and neither of us went through with it, they’d be over it. Why invest themselves if we have a history of dodging the walk down the aisle? Plus, I figure people must be sick of you by now.”

  “Me? Why me? If they’re sick of me, they’re sick of you too.”

  He clears his throat. “Arianick? ‘The power couple taking the world by storm, one gold medal at a time,’” he quotes in a mocking tone.

  When Henrik won the gold medal in the Rio Olympics, the press was focused more on the two of us than the team. The coverage was obnoxious.

  Groaning, I drop my head in hands. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “I haven’t, but trust me, I’ve tried. It was hell. You and Henrik were everywhere. No matter where I looked, there the two of you were. I wanted to throw up every time I turned on the t
elevision or logged into my computer or walked by a newsstand.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “The press was so out of control. The funny thing is the hype was the only thing giving our relationship life at that point. I didn’t think he actually wanted to get married, and I only said yes because of the way he proposed. But according to the press, it was as if God himself had paired us together. Do you know Lloyds of London even offered to insure our embryos, should we have any, because our kids were supposed to be the next super athletes? Which is funny, because as far as athletes go, Henrik is the laziest one I’ve ever met. Charlie once said the only way his sperm could possibly catch up with my eggs was if we went through IVF and a doctor inserted them for him.”

  He puts his hands over his ears. “Stop. No more talking about embryos or sperm unless they’re mine. Henrik and I are managing this friend thing, but that only works when I pretend he’s never seen you with your clothes off, so please. No more.”

  I pull down his hands. “Okay. I promise we’ll only speak of your sperm from this day forward.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

  I run my fingers along the seam of his track pants. “Speaking of Henrik, do you know if he’ll be in Dzokto when we visit?”

  It’s so strange to me that Chase is the only one of us speaking to my ex-fiancé. It’s the most unlikely friendship I’ve ever heard of, but they seem to get along well. I suppose it shouldn’t be that shocking. It’s impossible to not love Henrik. He’s such a great guy.

  Loving Henrik was never my problem. Being in love with him was a very different story. Without realizing it, I had been using him for years, only turning to him when I was looking for a place to hide. When I went to see him last spring, he called me out on it, a slap in the face I was not expecting. One I clearly deserved. When I kissed him good-bye for the last time, it was the first time I noticed the pain in his eyes. Pain I’d caused. Ever since I left him standing on the side of the road in his boxers, I haven’t had the balls to call him. Right or wrong, I vowed to keep my distance from him.

  There’s a chance he’ll be in Dzokto, the village Henrik brought me to after my father died. When I started this project, I had wanted to return to Dzokto since the village was destroyed by the flood. I had fallen in love with the people and hoped to return to repair the damage. But another foundation, run by my friend Ariko, was already working there, and we agreed it didn’t make sense to focus all of our collective resources on one village when so many places are in need of help. Chase and I are supposed to visit sometime before we leave, and there’s a very good chance we’ll see Henrik. My stomach twists into knots from just thinking about it.