Piercing blue eyes matched the smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He slid his hand over hers, positioned directly over his heart. The rhythmic beat pulsed through her, ensured this wasn’t just some dream. He was here. He was real. “Who says I’m pretending?”
“You never were a good liar.” A laugh bubbled up her throat as she leveraged her elbow into the mattress to see his face better, something that seemed to come easier the longer he was around. The stitches in her side stretched but stayed in place. “So do you make it a requirement of your friends to store extra bags of blood, or is that part of Reed thinking he’s a superhero?”
“The shirts.” His chest shook with a laugh, followed by a groan as he clutched the wound in his shoulder. “Yeah, don’t ask me why, but there’s not a single shirt in his possession that doesn’t have some kind of superhero logo on it. The guy’s obsessed.”
“That was clear while he was stitching you up. Kept telling me all about one of the movies he saw last week. I had no idea what he was talking about.” She hadn’t really had time to keep up on anything outside her own personal investigation into whoever’d stolen from the foundation’s donations accounts other than a few baby books. “Guess I’ve been out of the loop for a while. I don’t even know if you’re living in the same apartment, or if you started seeing someone else after we…”
Air caught in her lungs. He’d kissed her back at the ranch. He wasn’t the kind of man to kiss a woman while another waited for him to finish up his assignment, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t quickly moved on after her arrest. Didn’t mean he hadn’t replaced her.
“You’re asking if I’ve been with anyone else since we split up?” he asked.
She shouldn’t care. They weren’t together anymore, and they didn’t have plans to change that in the future. No matter what happened with the investigation, they’d agreed to be active in their daughter’s life, but tension still flittered down her spine as she put a few more inches of space between them. Part of her did care—too much—and she wasn’t sure what to do with that. She didn’t like this feeling—this hope—he’d changed his mind about cutting her from his life after discovering the truth she’d been framed. Because anytime she’d given in to that sensation, she’d always been the one to get hurt, the one left behind. She moved to get out of the bed. “I’m sorry. It’s not any of my business.”
Calloused fingers wrapped around her arm, preventing her from escaping the warmth of the sheets, and she turned back into him. Beckett leveled his gaze on her, and everything inside her balanced on the edge of some invisible cliff waiting for his answer. One word. That was all it would take, and she’d fall. He released his hold on her arm and threaded his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck. “There hasn’t been anyone but you, and when we were out there together, fighting to stay alive, I realized I didn’t want there to be.”
His admission cut through her, and her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I made a mistake. After your arrest.” Sliding his hand down her neck, along the most sensitive part of her throat, Beckett followed the trail of her collarbone. Fire erupted in the wake of his touch. In the past few months she’d known her body could feel pain, trauma, betrayal and numbness, usually more than one at a time, but she’d never felt this. This…connectedness to another human being. This craving. The muscles along his arm rippled as he ventured over her sternum and scorched a path toward her navel, resting where their baby thrived. “After we fled into the woods, you said I was so determined to make you the enemy, I refused to see if there was the tiniest shred of evidence proving your innocence. And you were right.”
Her heart jerked in her chest. Deep down, she’d known that to be true, but there’d still been a piece that’d wanted her to be wrong. Hearing him admit it now… She didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know what he wanted her to say.
“I was so angry about what my father did to our family, I’ve been blinded from seeing anything other than the black and white in front of me. Good vs. bad. Guilty vs. innocent. People who hurt others vs. those who don’t.” He fisted his hand and dug it into the mattress between them. He cast his gaze down, refusing to meet her eyes. “Whenever I asked about your family, you dodged the question or would change the subject. I felt like you were keeping me at a distance the entire time we were together, hiding something, and after I got my hands on those sealed records, I was so positive I was seeing the real you for the first time. The criminal you didn’t want me to know about. There were so many similarities between your case and my father’s, I automatically equated all of that hatred and rage I had for what he’d done with you, but I was wrong. About everything, and I’m sorry. I know you had nothing to do with stealing those donations, and I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for my mistakes if that’s what you need from me.”
Tears burned in her eyes as the last of the barrier she’d built between them shattered.
“I’m sorry, too. Keeping my past from you had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me, Beckett. I never meant to keep you at arm’s length. I just…wasn’t ready to face it yet. All that pain, the consuming shame every time I thought about what’d happened with my brother.” Raleigh framed his face with one hand, forcing him to look up at her. The dark, swirling blue depths of his eyes broadcast the internal war struggling to break through the surface. His beard tickled her palm as she stroked her thumb along his jaw. “But being with you these past couple of days, having to relive that part of me, confronting it openly and honestly, has finally forced me to get rid of this weight that’s been suffocating me for years. You did that for me, and that counts for a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”
“You give me too much. I told you I’d always be there for you. Then I disappeared when you needed me the most.” He turned his mouth into her palm, anchoring her hand against his face with his, and kissed the sensitive skin below her fingers. “I was a coward, and you deserved a whole hell of a lot better than me.”
“Good thing I’m the one who gets to decide what I deserve.” Raleigh leaned into him, pressing her mouth to his softly. After everything they’d been through, how much he’d risked to keep her safe, coupled with his apology, the hurt she’d been holding on to for the past few months released a bit of its grip from her chest. Heat raced down her neck and across her shoulders as he rotated onto his back, dragging her with him, and a smile broke through her control. “I think you misunderstood. Right now, what I deserve looks like a US marshal making me breakfast.”
“You got it.” His laugh resonated through her, and she fought to memorize every second. There’d been times after her escape from federal custody she’d tried to remember that laugh, what it’d been like to wake up beside him, how it’d felt to have him warm her when a draft came through their apartment. In the end, they’d just been fragments of memory, but this… She’d never forget this. Beckett slid his legs over the side of the bed, then turned to press his hands into the mattress as he claimed her mouth in a dizzying kiss. The sweats he’d borrowed from Reed outlined thick lines of muscles in his legs and calves, and she couldn’t help but enjoy the view. “Eggs, waffles and sausage coming right up. Don’t go anywhere.”
She’d been running for the past four months, constantly looking over her shoulder, worried she wouldn’t have the chance to clear her name before being taken back into custody. But here, she felt safe, protected, wanted. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
CHAPTER TEN
A baby.
He hadn’t gotten the chance to fully consider what that meant. They’d spent the past two days running for their lives and trying not to get shot, but the news was starting to sink in now. Beckett shot his arm out to flip the eggs in the pan. Fried. Just the way she liked them. The timer of the waffle iron chirped, the entire kitchen a mess of waffle mix, eggshells, milk and cooking oil. Hell, their daughter wa
sn’t even here yet, and the sinking sensation of doubt had already started creeping in. How were they supposed to do this? Clearing Raleigh’s name of the embezzlement charges would take work, but the fact she’d escaped federal custody and gone on the run could make it so she’d have to serve some jail time. For how long, he didn’t know. Guess it depended on the judge, but she’d broken the law, and while people changed—while he’d changed—the law didn’t.
Right now, he couldn’t fully tell the woman he’d left in that bed was pregnant, her body almost as lean as he remembered. He didn’t know a whole lot about babies, but that baby wouldn’t wait around for her mother to pick a good time to make her debut. Beckett slid two eggs onto a plate and set the pan back on the stovetop. He hadn’t asked to be a father, but he was going to be one anyway. He wasn’t going to avoid his responsibility to that baby’s creation. He had a steady job with the Marshals, an apartment. He could support their daughter while Raleigh got back on her feet. They’d have to work out a custody-and-visitation agreement after she was born, or…
His gaze settled on the stairs leading up to the single bedroom. Or maybe this thing between him and Raleigh could be more. Maybe he could have everything he’d ever wanted. Everything they’d both wanted for themselves but never got the chance. A family without secrets, without lies and resentment or loss. Just the three of them.
The smoke detector pealed from overhead, shocking Beckett back into reality. Within seconds, the rest of the detectors joined in from all over the cabin. His ears rang as he dashed to get the waffle burning in the iron free with a fork and his hands. Smoke dived deep into his lungs. Blistering heat burned his fingertips until he finally got the blackened mess free of the metal and into the kitchen sink. After unplugging the device, he flipped on the water and doused the charred remains of Raleigh’s breakfast until the smoke cleared. He gripped the edge of the glossy black countertop. His throat burned. Yeah, he was definitely ready to be a dad. At least their daughter would be living off milk for those first few months. No need for her to have to suffer with his cooking skills. He tossed a kitchen towel across the room. “Damn it.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind when I asked for breakfast, but I appreciate the effort.” The sound of bare feet padding down the stairs and across the hardwood flooring raised the hairs on the back of his neck, and suddenly he couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Dark hair tousled from sleep, Raleigh was a vision unlike any he’d seen before. Long, lean, flawless in nothing but one of Reed’s oversize superhero T-shirts, and his chest constricted. She smoothed her hands over the island countertop, the hints of green in the stone almost a perfect match for her eyes. “Need help? I’ve heard I make a mean glass of orange juice.”
He couldn’t hold back the laugh escaping his chest. Yeah, she did. “I was the one who said that after you started a fire in my apartment trying to soften the chocolate hazelnut spread in the microwave for your toast.”
“Okay, so I accidentally put the jar in the fridge after sneaking some spoonfuls in the middle of the night.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, angling her chin to the point she actually looked innocent as he wiped down the waffle iron. “I didn’t think it would turn into a brick, and I was positive I’d gotten all the foil off the edges before I put it in the microwave.”
“That wouldn’t have held up in court if my landlord had moved forward with his lawsuit.” Pouring the rest of the batter into the now decharred iron, he set the timer. “But now that you mention it, orange juice would be great.”
“I’m on it.” She moved around the counter, all grace and beauty as though the past couple of days hadn’t affected her in the least or that they hadn’t nearly died out there, and hell, he admired her for that. He’d spent the entire night envisioning how far he would’ve gone if Emily Cline had finished what she’d started, if he’d lost Raleigh and their baby. She ducked her head into the fridge, her shirt hugging her in all the right places, but Beckett could only zero in on the stain blossoming through the shirt from her side. “Any word from Reed or your office about the mess we left at the ranch? Can’t imagine they’re too happy—”
“You’re bleeding again.” He dropped the fork he’d been holding while waiting to pry the waffle free and closed the distance between them. The tang of metal on granite resonated in his ears as she closed the fridge, and she stared up at him. He threaded his hand between her arm and her rib cage to get a better look.
Arching the bottle of orange juice overhead, she studied the spread of red across her side. “Damn. I have a feeling Reed isn’t going to let me raid his closet anymore after he finds out about this.”
“Sit down.” He unplugged the waffle iron, took the bottle of orange juice from her and set it on the counter, then maneuvered her back until her knees hit the edge of one of the kitchen chairs. A combination of her natural scent and Reed’s sank in his chest like a rock as she sat, and a dose of fire burned through him. He trusted the deputy, respected the hell out of him, but Beckett would break the bastard’s nose if he came anywhere near what was his. Dropping to one knee, he suppressed the groan as the stitches in his thigh protested. His. What the hell was wrong with him? Two days ago he’d been fantasizing about handing her over to the feds, and now he was thinking of all the ways they could make a life for their daughter if given the chance. “I need you to…let me see the wound.”
Which meant seeing anything going on under that shirt.
“Right. Not weird at all. Just exposing myself to a man who I used to sleep with so he can see what’s wrong with my stitches. Not a big deal.” The words carried a hint of sarcasm, that specific tone she’d use to neutralize any situation she didn’t want to confront. She rolled her shirt higher, exposing long lines of pale, smooth skin and the pattern of moles he’d memorized that first night they’d been together. Tasteful beige underwear edged with lace skimmed the tops of her thighs, and suddenly he didn’t dare touch her. Not something so perfect, so beautiful. So deserving of better than anything he could offer.
But he’d try. Because he couldn’t let the anger he’d held on to for all these years—the hatred for what his father had done—touch her or their baby. Neither of them deserved to feel that kind of pain or to feel the effects of his past trauma, and for the first time as he stared up at Raleigh, he realized he didn’t either. Every decision Beckett had made over the past twenty years had led him to this moment, led him to becoming a US marshal. His father had led him here. He protected the innocent because he hadn’t been able to protect his mother when he was sixteen. He hunted fugitives because he hadn’t been able to find any kind of evidence of Hank Foster or the money he’d stolen after the son of a bitch had disappeared. He went out of the way for the men and women he worked with because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing anyone else to the people he brought to justice. Everything he did, everything he said, was because of someone else’s actions, and hell, that moment of losing the only family he’d had left had controlled him his entire life.
But it wasn’t just him anymore. He was going to be a father to a baby girl, a coparent with Raleigh, and he couldn’t let the past dictate his future. Not anymore. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive his father for what he’d done, but that single event didn’t have to control him from here on out. Didn’t have to hold him back from being happy. He had the power to choose, to let go, move on.
And he was choosing this.
Right here. Right now. Choosing Raleigh. Choosing their baby.
They were going to be a family.
“Beckett?” His name on her lips raised the temperature of the room by at least ten degrees. Or was it his heart rate that couldn’t keep up with the rest of his body? Bloodied gauze lined with tape crinkled at the edges as she breathed. Raleigh tried to get a better look at the wound. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is it worse than you thought?”
“No. I… You’ve done everyt
hing in your power to protect this baby, even against me, and I can’t wait to see what kind of mom you’ll be when she’s born.” He set his hand against her side, her body heat warming him straight down to his bones. His calluses caught on smooth skin as he peeled back the layer of gauze and tape. Thankfully, the stitches Reed had sewn in hadn’t torn, but he’d need to clean out the area around the wound again and change her dressing. “I know I was another person in the long line of people who’ve hurt you, but if you’ll let me, I’d like to be there for you both. Appointments, parenting classes, the birth. I can help with setting up the nursery or finding you an apartment when this is over, or if you want a custody agreement, I’ll respect that, too. Whatever you’re willing to let me have, I’ll take it. I just don’t want to screw this up. If you give me the chance, I want to be there for you and the baby, to prove I can keep my promises.”
Her mouth parted. Her eyes went wide. “You want to do this together?”
“More than anything,” he said.
“I don’t…” Tension shot across his shoulders as mere seconds slipped past one after the other. Raleigh licked her lips, his attention homing in on the softness of her mouth before she nearly knocked him out cold with that gut-wrenching smile of hers. “I’d like that, but only on one condition. You have to change all of her dirty diapers.”
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