by Amy Fetzer
Colin reared back and the other men—his foreman, Dave, and another co-worker—blanched.
Tigh said nothing, staring at his cards.
Chase looked around the table at his friends, friends he'd vented his anger on in the past two weeks. It would serve him right if they beat the tar out of him. And Chase realized that's just what he wanted, a good fight. "Later," he muttered, heading to the door.
He could hardly stand himself. He'd fought with everyone around him, rode his crew as if the world would end tomorrow and, God forgive him, yelled at his mother for interfering. His dad had nearly put him through the wall for that.
Chase was furious. With Tessa for kicking him out of her life and at himself for letting her dictate their relationship. He'd been damn noble about this, he reasoned. He'd dredged up every tender feeling and scrap of sympathy to see things her way.
As he drove to her house, he planned to have it out with her.
And say what? Hurry up and have the baby so I can reason with you? Marry me or else? I love you so much I can't stand another moment of being apart, of not holding you and hearing your laugh?
He pulled up in front of her house, viciously shoving the gear into park, and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror. He looked awful, tired. If he looked this bad, how did she feel? He pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, closing his eyes. Don't weaken, he warned, don't compromise. Anger was the only thing he wanted to feel right now. To let anything else in would turn him into a marshmallow the instant he saw her. Suddenly he left the car, slamming the door and heading up the walk like a Marine charging an enemy camp. He rapped hard on the door, rattling the windows, then shoved his hands in his pockets, pacing. Nothing. He squinted into the windows, but the curtains were drawn. At least the lights were on, he thought, and rapped again.
Then he heard a moan.
* * *
Ten
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Chase's heart jumped to his throat and he fumbled with his keys, trying to find the one for her front door. He shoved open the door and saw her, on her knees, clutching her belly. For a moment he was frozen to the ground.
She twisted a look over her shoulder, flinging her hand out to him. "Chase! Help me!"
Two strides and he slid to his knees beside her. She was breathing fast, her body sheened in sweat.
"Jesus, Tessa. How long?" He pushed damp hair off her face to look at her. "Why didn't you call me?"
"I tried," she wailed and gestured to the cellular phone a few feet away on the floor. "It started yesterday. I didn't think much of it until the pains got stronger. Johanna said it could be a while, but then my water broke—" Suddenly she bent over as a contraction ripped through her body. "Oh God," she gasped. "I've been trying to get to the phone."
"It's okay, angel," he soothed, gathering her in his arms.
"No, it's early and I can't stand!"
Chase was surprised at how calm he was when he thought he'd choke on his heart any second. Carefully he stood, cradling her against his chest. "Breathe, angel. Look at me." He paused at the door, nudging it shut. "Tessa," he called when she was panting too hard, and she lifted her bleary gaze to his. "I won't let anything hurt you."
She scoffed, wetting her lips. "I don't think you can control this."
"Want those drugs yet?"
"Yes!" she groaned as he placed her carefully in the seat of his Jeep. Chase was inside and down the road in seconds. He dialed the doctor from his car phone, plastering what he hoped resembled a smile on his face. She looked as if she'd die before he got her to the hospital. En route he auto-dialed her family and his. Inside the hospital was no less hectic, the exam divulging that she was already dilated to nine centimeters.
Chase was going to be a father in a matter of minutes.
Panic set in. He couldn't go in there, he thought numbly as a nurse helped him into scrubs and a ridiculous-looking cap. He couldn't. He swallowed, looked at the nurse and shook his head. The young woman sent him a kind smile, then propelled him through the double doors like a cop taking a prisoner. Then he heard Tessa scream his name and Chase hurried alongside the nurse as she ushered him into a room. The sight of Tessa in a birthing chair made his knees weak, and his features tightened.
Johanna nodded supportively, then tipped the chair back slightly.
"Won't be long, Tessa," she said as she examined her. "Next time though, come in earlier."
"There won't be a next time," she said through gritted teeth, then glared accusingly at Chase.
"Hey," he whispered in her ear. "I didn't have the pleasure of putting this one in you." But I will the next one, he thought. I will.
He looked pale, she thought with malicious pleasure, yet he coached her, got in her face, helped her breathe, bathed her forehead, offered her ice chips, and Tessa thought if she got this baby out, she'd never consider doing it again. Never.
"Slow down, angel." She was panting too fast, her skin chalky.
"Okay, Tessa. Let's get this baby born." Johanna moved between her legs and Chase thought she looked like a quarterback ready for the snap. Johanna glanced at the fetal monitor. "Breathe, breathe. Come on, Tessa, you can do this. No, don't push, not yet."
"I have to!" Her cheeks puffed with her pant-blows, her effort not to push.
"Look at me, angel." Chase wiped a cloth over her face, pushing her head back, and she lifted tired eyes. "I love you. You can do this."
"I want to," she gasped. "But I can't." She was so tired.
"It's too late for drugs," he said with a smirk, and Tessa smiled weakly, sagging into the chair as the contraction ended. Johanna nodded to Chase.
"This is it, Tessa." Panic and fear streaked across her features at the doctor's words, then she calmed, amazing him, and concentrated. Tessa focused on nothing, yet her mind filled with fractured images—of Chase pulling her onto his lap in the restaurant and smoothing her belly, of his warm, strong hands massaging her back, pointing to the tiny fingers and claiming she carried his son, of his eyes tearing when he saw the sonogram. The contraction grew stronger, a tight, downward, yanking pressure she was certain would rip her in half. She clutched his hand, crushing his fingers.
Chase grit his teeth. Any pain he suffered couldn't be near what she was going through. He watched, glancing at Johanna, oblivious to the nurses and instructions filtering around them. He stared at Tessa, loving her so deeply and praying she'd make it. She looked so helpless as she fought to push out their child.
"Push, push!" Johanna commanded. "Don't stop till I tell you."
Tessa strained, then let loose a guttural scream, of pain and triumph. Chase no longer felt his fingers, yet he watched. Watched Tessa strain. Watched his child enter the world screaming at them for disturbing his peace.
"It's a boy!" Johanna said, holding the child up for them to see. The infant shrieked and squirmed and his parents laughed.
"Told you so," he whispered, and Tessa sagged back, lifting her gaze to his. She brushed her thumb across his cheek, catching the single tear.
"You'll never let me forget that, huh?"
He shook his head, his voice lost somewhere he couldn't retrieve, and he buried his face in the curve of her throat, smoothing back her damp hair. "You did good, angel. He's beautiful. I'm so proud of you."
He kissed her softly, reverently, and Tessa felt a sharpness in her chest. She'd missed him so much these past weeks. Then their son was laid on her chest and Tessa laughed and cried. Her baby shivered.
"Ohh, it's okay," she cooed, covering her son, wiping his face. She glanced at Chase and his hand trembled as he stroked his son's head.
While Johanna finished with Tessa, a nurse carried their son to a table. Chase couldn't take his eyes off the tiny bundle, and after a few quick tests, she gestured for him to join her.
Chase gazed down at the wiggling infant, his son's movements jerky, his breathing a little noisy, and he bent, pressing his lips to the soft newborn cheek. A son. With shaking hand
s, Chase gave his son his first bath, counting tiny fingers and toes, softly talking to him, telling him how glad he was to finally meet him, that this better be the last time he caused his mother any pain. Then he sang, almost in a private whisper, Happy Birthday.
The room went suddenly quiet and Johanna glanced up, looking at Chase's back, then at Tessa. Tessa met her doctor's gaze over the mounds of sheets. She easily read Johanna's look. Are you going to let him get away?
A hard knot worked in her throat. Tears filled her eyes and she let them quietly fall. This was the happiest moment of her life. She had the baby she'd always wanted, needed, and his father loved them. Chase lifted his son in his arms, and when Tessa saw the awed look on his face, the unconditional love shining in his blue eyes, she knew there was nothing more heart-wrenching than the tiny speck of human enveloped in his strong hands. He carefully placed the infant in her arms.
"I think he likes me."
Tessa's lips twitched with a patient smile. He sounded uncertain and hopeful.
"Look at those hands." He caught one, spreading the fingers, his thumb covering his son's entire palm. "Baseball hands," he said almost to himself. "Maybe football."
She didn't respond, unsure. But images of a dark-haired child bent over, his hands braced on his knees, his little bottom swaying side to side like his father's always did, raced through her mind. It made her chest tighten.
The room cleared and Chase didn't notice until a nurse asked him to take his son. From behind a curtain, she helped Tessa bathe and get into clean garments and a bed. The birthing chair was wheeled out and Chase waited off in the corner, his son snuggled against his chest, seeking warmth and the comfort of his heartbeat.
He smiled at the soft mewing sound his boy made and brushed his lips across his soft, down-covered head. Baby boy Lightfoot read the tape on his tiny ankle, and Chase felt a measure of resentment. It should be his name there. And as he considered a majestic list of names, since they'd never discussed them, he wondered if he was going to be named on the birth certificate.
He'd fight for the right, he decided, then pushed the week's worth of anger and hurt aside as the nurse swept the curtain back. He met Tessa's gaze across the room. She was exhausted, but had never looked more beautiful. Her hair brushed, her face freshly washed, she was once again the delicate, angelic female who tore his world apart. A far cry from the raving lunatic delivering his son. Alone with her, he moved to the bed. She immediately held her arms out for their child.
"What do we call him?"
We. The single word was a burst of reality. No matter what happened, they would always be connected by their baby, she thought, adjusting the blanket around her son's cherubic face. "I've always liked Christopher, or maybe Zackary." She cast him a quick glance.
"Christopher," he said with finality, and after a moment, she nodded. "'Course, Christian will think he's named for him." His lips twisted in a rueful smile, his eyes on his son. "Maybe he'll come home to visit more often for his nephew."
Tessa's brows drew down. Except for his daily calls in the past weeks, they'd been out of touch with each other's lives, and she realized how much his family meant to him.
"You haven't been riding him again, have you?" His gaze shot to hers, his guilty flush speaking volumes. "When he's ready to face the world, he will."
He nodded, settling on the bed beside her, and a part of Chase's heart cracked when she cuddled their son protectively. He let it pass. But he felt as if he were talking to a stranger, and Chase wondered if he had imagined the past months. Did she still love him? Did she show him her passion because she only wanted to keep him happy so he wouldn't petition for custody? He hated to think that of Tessa, for she wasn't a manipulative person, but right now, Chase felt her precious love fading before his eyes.
God, he thought, his throat so tight it threatened his breathing. He couldn't hurt this much in a lifetime.
"I'm sure your family is here." He inclined his head toward the door. He didn't mention that, in all likelihood, so was his.
She nodded. "In a few minutes," she whispered against Christopher's head. "I want to be alone with my son."
Chase's expression sharpened, but he didn't comment and leaned close, smoothing his hand over his baby's back and kissing him. He met her gaze, inches from her face. "I love you, Tessa. I always will." Then he kissed her.
A deep, sexy kiss, the kind he tortured her with when he was loving her body, smooth and hot. Tessa reacted instantly, cupping his head, pressing him closer, reminding herself that she was being foolish and reckless and risking a good man's heart with her tangled emotions. She sobbed against his mouth and he drank it, sliding his arm around her and kissing her until she was breathless, her eyes glazed.
Slowly he drew back and, without meeting her gaze, he left. Tessa looked down at her son and cried.
Chase was composed when he entered the waiting room and announced that they had a son. His mother cried, hugging him, as his father pumped his hand, his aging eyes a little misty. Celeste sobbed quietly, then popped out of her chair, bracelets jingling as she declared she must read her grandson's palm first thing. Colin hooted, slapped his brother on the back and passed out cigars as if he were the daddy. Yet a moment later, he was strangely silent.
Chase met Samantha, Tessa's elder sister, up close and personal for the first time and recognized the resemblance immediately. She could be Tessa's twin except for her height and dark auburn hair. There was something ethereal about her, calm in a sea of excitement, and when she wrapped her arms around him, she whispered, "She's being a stubborn brat again, isn't she?"
Chase chuckled mirthlessly and nodded.
"Be stubborn back, then," she said.
He liked her already and tried to recall Tessa's reasons for insisting that her sister was "out there on another plane of existence."
"Some people need rescuing from themselves, Chase," she added, before leaving his arms.
Her gaze shifted to Christian, who was staring out the window, and as if he suspected her eyes were on him, he slowly turned his head. His brows rose, his gaze pinning Samantha briefly before she dragged her eyes back to Chase. She patted his hand, much like Celeste, and pressed a chunk of crystal into his palm.
"This will give you some peace," she whispered, and he thanked her for the crystal, clutching it tightly as he dropped onto a saggy leather couch. One by one, family visited, and as they filed out, Chase headed back to Tessa's room.
He pushed open the door and slipped inside. Tessa was resting, Christopher tucked to her side, taking his first meal. He moved closer, settled in a chair and watched. Her breast was pale and full as the baby suckled, and he thought she was asleep until she put the baby to her shoulder, gently patting his back. She offered Christopher her other breast, never opening her eyes, and Chase experienced a strange mix of jealousy and contentment just watching them.
"Tessa."
Her eyes flashed open. She made no move to cover herself and it pleased him. Her body was his and primitive instinct told him he'd have it again. He wanted all of her, or nothing, he realized suddenly.
"I will see you later." Why did that sound like a threat? He raked his hand through his hair and felt like a stranger to his family. If she'd just smile at him, touch him, he thought. He kissed her forehead, then his son's, his cheek brushing her breast as he did. He heard her gasp and allowed himself a small smile as he left. Cool to him or not, there were some things Tessa couldn't deny.
A nurse caught him before he opened Tessa's hospital room door the next morning.
"Miss Lightfoot asked that I give you this." The portly woman looked uneasy as she handed him a copy of Christopher's birth certificate. Chase was listed as the father. Then exactly what Tessa was doing hit him square in the gut. She was still cutting him out of her life. Why else would she not give this to him herself?
He brushed past the nurse and flung open the door. Tessa looked up from folding clothes into a small suitcase. She was
dressed and ready to leave, but Christopher was nowhere in sight.
Panic shot through him like a bullet. "Where's my son?"
She blinked. "In the nursery, of course." Calm and composed.
"I want to see him. Now."
She buzzed the nurse's station. Tessa would never deny Chase his son, but they needed to get a few things clear right now. She couldn't be around him just yet when he saw his son. Not and think straight about their future. "You can see him now, Chase," she said, stalling over her next words. "But I need some more time. Alone." His face drained of color. "I think it's best that we don't see each other for a little while. And that includes—"
"Don't even say it!" Chase cut in, seeing red. In the space of a heartbeat, his patience snapped. "Was this—" he waved the paper "—supposed to make me happy, satisfy me till you got your act together? Offering me a scrap of paper instead of my son? I'm Christopher's father, dammit!"
His rage stunned her. "Calm down, Chase, you're getting out of control."
"Woman, you haven't seen me out of control." He took a step closer, threatening, brandishing the certificate. "This still makes him a bastard."
She gasped and back-stepped, looking as if he'd hit her. "What!"
"You heard me. You chose to make my son a bastard, Tessa. I've asked you to marry me enough times for you to know exactly how I feel about you. I love you."
Her eyes glossed and she blinked rapidly. "You love the mother of your son."
"How the hell can you stand there and say that?"
"How can I ever be sure it isn't true?" she cried. He was a madman at just the implication that he'd be parted from his son. What was she supposed to think?
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his eyes were dark with rage as they pinned her, raked her from head to toe. She'd never seen him like this and remembered what he'd said about his temper. He closed in on her, looming over her, his voice deceptively soft and lethal.