St. Patrick’s Baby (SEAL Team: Holiday Heroes Book 4)

by Laura Marie Altom

“No need. I did what anyone would have.”

  “Maybe. But it was you, Patrick, who saved me.” She held out her hand to him. “Take a bath with me. The fire can wait.”

  “Love to,” he said without meeting her gaze, “but it really can’t. The coals aren’t as hot as I’d thought. It’s supposed to get down in the single-digits tonight.”

  “Sure. Okay…” She wandered toward the bathroom. What aren’t you saying?

  Patrick tossed a few logs in the stove, then sat on the tile hearth, wishing he hadn’t been such an ass to the only woman who’d ever made him feel like he didn’t just have to settle for his current lot in life, but maybe strive for something better. But then his past roared back in with a not-so-subtle reminder that if Stephie had been hinting around that maybe it was time they marry, start a family, he wasn’t—could never be—her guy.

  As much as she’d come to mean to him in the eight months they’d been dating, he owed her that much. He should have told her all the way back on their first date. It would have been the kind thing to do. The noble thing. Instead, he’d taken the coward’s way out, assuming that as was usually the case with relationships, it would naturally fizzle out of its own accord. One or both interested parties would lose interest and voila—he was once again off the proverbial hook.

  But Stephie was different than any other woman he’d dated. Better.

  As such, he owed her the truth. A truth that would sting like hell, but it had to be done.

  Opting to skip a shower, he ducked into his room to change from his wet clothes into fresh boxers and gray sweats from his SEAL days. Since his feet still felt like twin ice blocks, he added thick white socks.

  The shower was still running when he’d finished, so he brewed coffee for himself and put the tea kettle on for Stephie. She preferred the herbal variety and had brought spearmint in honor of the holiday.

  Needing the fire’s visual warmth and cheery crackle, he’d left the stove doors open.

  Soon enough, the cabin was toasty.

  His busted, cold heart? Not so much.

  Stephie finally emerged from the bathroom on a cloud of steam, looking impossibly pretty even with wet hair and no makeup. He loved her freckles and red hair and the way her lips curved at the corners as if caught in a perpetual grin. He loved everything about her from her sassy humor to her knack with baking to the way she warmed his toes on cold mornings. He should have let her go a long time ago—way before things got to this point.

  Laughing, she looked to his gray sweats and then hers—that she’d borrowed from him. They were adorably huge on her, only making him love her more. “Great minds think alike?”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed the wall rising at the back of his throat.

  Palms sweating, pulse racing more than it had during their dunk in the lake, he wasn’t sure what to say. The only thing he was certain of was that something had to be said—now. Hard to believe how much had changed in such a short time.

  Just that morning, he’d held her in his arms after they’d…

  “Patrick?” She sat cross-legged on her favorite corner of the sofa, hugging one of the red throw pillows she’d bought to “cozy up the place” to her chest. “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me. Are you hurt?”

  Yes! But not in the way you think.

  “If you hurt yourself during the fall, we should get you to the ER.”

  “There’s really no easy way to say this, so here goes…”

  Her gaze narrowed while she combed the fringe on the pillow’s edge.

  “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

  Chapter Three

  “WHAT?” STEPHIE’S STOMACH lurched like the Tilt-a-Whirl ride that Nugget, the lodge’s owner, had installed on the parking lot for the holiday festivities. But there was nothing festive about the words that had just spilled from Patrick’s lips. “When you fell in the water did you hit your head?”

  He stood. Paced.

  “Answer me!” She hadn’t meant for her demand to be shrieked, but it was kind of hard keeping any semblance of self-control when Patrick had hit her with this ludicrous suggestion out of nowhere.

  “Look, I know this must come as a shock—”

  “You think?” She pursed her lips and cocked her head.

  “There are things we’ve never talked about—reasons why I’ve never been in a committed relationship—never needed to be.”

  “Swell. All items you might have spelled out for me before I went and did something stupid like falling in love with you.”

  “You don’t love me.” He had the audacity to roll his eyes. “You just think you do. But I’m no good for you—the worst.”

  “A fact that’s becoming abundantly clear…” Rising from the sofa, she marched to the bedroom to begin packing her stuff—not just the clothes she’d brought for the weekend, but everything. The framed photos she’d gifted him from their birthdays and New Year’s and the fridge magnets she’d collected on their outings to watch whales and climb glaciers and ski and…

  The more she thought about how many precious memories they’d created, the more it grew clear that she lacked the emotional strength to mess with any of this crap. Because that’s what his hateful words had reduced those once precious items to—crap that without him in her life, she no longer wanted or needed.

  She took out her phone, speed dialing the town’s only Uber driver. Moments later, her escape plan was made and she was scrounging for socks and sneakers. She’d leave everything else. Boots, skates, clothes…

  Her heart.

  “Don’t go…” Patrick flattened his back to the door. “Not like this.”

  “Seriously? You break up with me out of nowhere after I tell you I love you, and yet, expect me to remain cordial?”

  “Hear me out. Y-you need to understand.”

  “Talk. You’ve got about fifteen minutes before my ride gets here.”

  “What then? You know you can’t get a flight out till tomorrow. The lodge has been booked for weeks.”

  “I’ll stay with Rose and Colby. If they don’t have room, Tanner and Jenny. I’d rather sleep on a park bench than here.”

  “You’re acting crazy. Hear me out. This decision didn’t just come from out of nowhere. Cutting ties with you isn’t even my choice.”

  “Okay…” To try moving him from the home’s only exit, she gave him a light shove.

  All muscle, standing with his arms crossed, he didn’t budge.

  He reached for her, trying to grasp her upper arms, but she backed away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Please understand. This isn’t anything I’ve told anyone—anyone. Not my closest friends.”

  Cue eyeroll.

  “Dammit, Steph, this is serious.”

  “More serious than breaking my heart?” Now, she was regrettably swiping tears. Damn him. She’d survived far worse in her life than a break-up. Why did this one hurt so bad?

  “When I was twelve, Mom had a surprise pregnancy—a baby boy. Pretty early on in Mom’s pregnancy, I’d hear her and Dad arguing behind their closed bedroom door. They went round and round, whispering phrases like terminating the pregnancy. It got so bad that they stopped speaking. Mom cried constantly. I mean, literally the only time she wasn’t crying or praying was when she finally slept.”

  Stephie swallowed the knot in her throat. Wherever this story was going, she had a feeling it would have a bad ending. Stumbling into a kitchen table chair, she blinked her stinging eyes.

  “Mom carried the baby to full-term, but my little brother only lived for days.”

  Stephie covered her mouth with her hands. “I-I’m sorry.”

  He waved off her concern. “It happened a long time ago. But the moral of this story is that he had a birth defect called anencephaly. Crucial parts of his brain and skull failed to form. My mother never got over the pain of losing him and a year or so later, Dad hooked up with his secretary and left for greener pastures. When I wasn’t in school, I took
care of Mom and the house—cooking and cleaning and doing laundry.” He wrung his hands. Bowed his head. “I’m ashamed to say that when she died from complications of flu just after my eighteenth birthday, I wasn’t all that sad—more like relieved. I joined the Navy and never looked back. Until now… You.”

  “Patrick…” She wanted to go to him, crush him in a hug. But what was the point? It didn’t take a medical degree to realize where his carefully worded speech was leading. Her RN degree would suffice. “Not much is known about the disease. Some say it’s caused by a folic acid deficiency, but I’m guessing you’ve also read that it’s sometimes…”

  “Genetic.” He straightened, ramming his hands in his pockets. “Because of that, I will never be a father. I won’t put myself, or another woman I love, through that kind of pain.”

  “But Patrick, you have to understand that the odds of—”

  He’d crossed the room, silencing her with a desperate slant of his lips atop hers.

  She clung to him, returning the kiss with equal fervor.

  From outside, a car horn blared.

  “I won’t go,” she said. “We need time to talk. You need to—”

  “I’m sorry. Really. But what I need is for you to go. I know how much you’ve always wanted a family. Because of that, I never should have let things get this far.”

  “Then you’re admitting you love me, too?”

  Honk, honk.

  “Yes. No.”

  “We can find a solution. Genetic testing will—”

  “Please, Steph. Don’t make this harder than it already is. My mind is made up.”

  Swallowing the knot at the back of her throat, she nodded. “I understand.”

  But she didn’t. Not at all.

  With him no longer blocking her way, she fumbled to open the door, and upon finally exiting to the ice cave, she ran for her ride.

  “Everything okay?” Austin, the driver, asked when she hopped in the back of his SUV. She’d ridden with him enough to know he was working on an online computer programming degree in hopes of one day designing lucrative phone apps.

  “Sure.” She gave him Rose’s address.

  “Lover’s quarrel?” He backed out of the driveway. “Don’t you usually stay till the last flight out Sunday night?”

  Unable to speak past pending tears, she nodded.

  “Well, I’m sure it’ll work out. Aren’t many gals as pretty as you.” He reddened, hastily looking at the road rather than her. “Your boyfriend would be a fool to let you go.”

  If the line wasn’t so tragic, Stephie would have laughed…

  Chapter Four

  “HERE YOU GO… Be careful, hon. It’s hot.”

  Stephie accepted the steaming mug of cocoa Rose offered. “Thanks.”

  “Absolutely. There’s no problem too big for cocoa and marshmallows.”

  “Meeeee!” Rose and her husband Colby’s toddler son, Nick, held up his chubby arms.

  “Hold your horses.” Rose scooped him into her arms and aimed for the kitchen. “You only get to drink cocoa in your big boy chair.” To Stephie she said, “Sorry. Let me get him settled, then we’ll have a good talk.”

  Stephie nodded, losing herself in the gumball-sized snowflakes falling beyond the chalet-style cabin’s massive windows overlooking Kodiak Gorge. Of all of her friends she could have called, she’d selfishly picked Rose because her husband also happened to be a pilot. With any luck, he’d be able to get her home to Anchorage as soon as the weather cleared.

  In the river stone hearth, a cheery fire crackled.

  On the coffee table sat a plate filled with shamrock cookies and on the muted TV played a Snoopy St. Patrick’s Day cartoon.

  “Sorry to bust up your party,” Stephie said when Rose rejoined her on the sofa’s opposite end, cradling her own steaming mug.

  “No worries. Nick’s long overdue for his nap, and Colby’s at the lodge drinking green beer with the rest of the crew.”

  “Why aren’t you there?”

  Smiling, Rose patted her tummy.

  “No? Really?”

  Rose swiped instant tears. “But I’m only at six weeks, so we’re not telling anyone. Pretty much I’m exhausted and my boobs hurt. The thought of immersing myself in a drunken mob scene was about as appealing as eating worms.” Her former serene expression faded. “Oh, God… Hold that thought.” She set her cocoa on a side table, then made a mad dash for the hall bathroom.

  From his high chair, Nick kicked and squealed. “Mommy, ack! Mommy, ack!”

  With her friend temporarily out of commission, Stephie took her drink into the kitchen to hang with Nick. “I see why your mom only wants you doing cocoa shooters in here…”

  “Me, cookie!” The dark-haired cherub looked even more adorable with his cheeks and hands and green shamrock shirt covered in marshmallow and chocolate goo.

  “I don’t know, buddy. Your mom said it’s time for your nap. Do you think you need more sugar?”

  “Cookie, cookie, cookie!”

  “Nap, nap, nap…” Still green, Rose emerged from the hall looking frazzled.

  “You’ve got your hands full,” Stephie said. “I should have stayed with Patrick until—”

  “Hush.” She dampened a dishrag, then wiped down her son. “You are a dirty monkey.”

  Nick giggled, puffing his chest. Already showing signs of manly pride?

  After tugging off his shirt and wiping down the rest of him, Rose hefted her son from his seat, cradling him close. “Be right back.”

  Stephie closed her eyes, fighting the urge to envision the life she’d believed she’d soon share with Patrick. The sweet house with lots of sunlight and no ice tunnel. The even sweeter baby they’d conceive from countless winter months with nothing to do but make love.

  To hold off a fresh round of tears stemming from knowing none of that would ever happen, she picked up where Rose had left off by rinsing the dishrag, then cleaning the high chair and wood floor.

  From upstairs drifted a faint tantrum, then Rose’s soft singing, then silence save for her trudging down the stairs.

  “Aw, thanks for cleaning,” Rose said. “Not necessary, but welcome.”

  “Sure. It was the least I could do after barging in.”

  “You’re a friend, meaning you’re always welcome. Come on,” she gestured toward the living room with its cozy crackling fire. She reclaimed her former spot on the sofa, then said, “Spill. Tell me every atrocious thing Patrick did and said.”

  Stephie relayed the ugly scene. “The thing is, how can I be mad at him when he made a valid point? Aside from the fact that if he truly cared about me—wanted me in his life—all it would take is a simple genetic test to ensure he doesn’t carry the gene. If he does?” She sighed. “We could tackle the issue together.”

  “Wow.” Rose clasped her forehead. “Now that I think about it, I never have seen Patrick with any woman for longer than a month or two. Then you came along and it’s been what? Nine months?”

  “Only eight officially. But still… Long enough for him to have at least mentioned all of this. He knows how much I look forward to starting a family and though he may not have meant to, more than once, he implied the two of us were in this for the long haul.”

  “Men can be pigs. The guy I was with before Colby was…” She took Stephie’s hand for a squeeze. “But the Patrick I know is a sweetheart. Want me to talk to him? Or have Colby straighten him out?”

  Fighting tears, Stephie shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t see the point in holding onto him when he clearly was never mine.”

  “What if he is? He’s just too scared to realize how great the two of you are together.”

  Shrugging, Stephie said, “In a roundabout way, isn’t that the same? The last thing I’d want is for him to make a long-term commitment without feeling as crazy in love with me as I am—was—with him.”

  “I’m sorry,” Rose said. “For what it’s worth, Jenny, Liliana and I were all hoping yo
u’d become a permanent resident of Kodiak Gorge.”

  “Me too…”

  “You’re an idiot.” Hawk slammed his beer so hard on the lodge bar that foam sloshed from the iced mug. He was a fellow retired SEAL and worked with Patrick at Brody’s adventure tourism company. He also had zero room to talk on any subject involving women. “Get the genetic test done, and then get on with your life. For whatever reason, Stephie’s crazy about you and you’ve been fawning over her since you met.”

  “Screw you.” Wishing the Irish rock wasn’t quite so loud, and the drunken crowd was less rowdy, Patrick downed a few swigs of his own beer. Why the hell had he told his so-called friend about what had just gone down with Stephie? “You don’t know shit when it comes to the fairer sex.”

  “There’s so much I could say to that statement, but in honor of the day and this most excellent beer, I’ll be on my best behavior.” He leaned in. “When Jenny told me McKynley was mine, I damn near died on the spot. But once fatherhood set in, I realized it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  “Great. I’m happy for you. But dude, didn’t you hear a word of what I’ve been saying? My swimmers are toxic waste.”

  “Until you’re tested, you don’t know.”

  “Oh—I know.” Patrick downed more beer, then pat his chest. “If I ever got Stephie pregnant, the baby would die and she’d hate me forever.”

  “Stop. This is too much brew talking.”

  “No—I mean it. Losing my baby brother ripped my whole family apart. I love Stephie enough that I’d rather see her happy with another man than grief-stricken and blaming me.”

  Chapter Five

  Six weeks later…

  WHEN STEPHIE EMERGED from her bedroom’s adjoining bath, she had just enough energy to rummage through the fridge for the last Sprite before collapsing on the sofa.

  Late April sun streamed through the living room’s big picture window. The day was clear enough to see snow-capped Denali. Though in Alaska, just because the day was currently sunny and warm didn’t mean it couldn’t be snowing an hour later.