Can't Fight It (Fair Lakes Book 3)

by Kaylee Ryan

  “Thank you,” I whisper, trying not to wake the baby, but also because it’s the only word I can choke out over the lump in my throat. She wraps her arms around me and hugs tightly just as the door opens.

  “Everything okay?” Chase asks, instantly alarmed.

  “Everything is just fine, Mr. Callahan,” she barks as she releases me with a wink.

  Chase instantly pulls his wife into his arms, hugging her close and rubbing a hand over the belly. “Ready to go home?”

  “Yep. I’m starving,” she says, heading over to pick up the few things I got out for Milo.

  “I can grab that stuff,” I insist, swaying with Milo against my chest.

  Gabby waves me off. “There’s like two things.”

  Chase helps bag up the garbage, which only consisted of a diaper and a few wipes, and takes it to the door. I can feel Colton’s presence beside me, but I don’t look his way. I keep my eyes trained on the sleeping baby in my arms. I catch a whiff of sweat and detergent as he bends down and kisses his son’s forehead, rubbing a big hand over the fuzzy top of his head. Our eyes meet for only a second, but a thousand words pass in that time. He places his hand on my lower back and bends down to kiss me on the forehead too. My heart dances in my chest with elation, knowing he still feels the same as before.

  At least for now.

  Until I tell him what’s going on.

  And then he may ask me to leave.

  Chase and Gabby seem oblivious to the war raging inside me. They both kiss Milo’s sleeping head before heading to the door, hand-in-hand. “See you tomorrow,” Chase says to his older brother before exiting the room, leaving us alone with our thoughts.

  “You ready?” he asks, clearing his throat and glancing around.

  “Yes,” I whisper as he heads over to retrieve the diaper bag and gather up the few things left. I move to the car seat and crouch in front of it. I move his snowsuit to the floor, but before I set him down to get him ready to go, I run my nose against his soft forehead, letting the peach fuzz on his head tickle my nose. He smells like baby shampoo and his daddy.

  God, I’m going to miss this if I’m asked to leave.

  I push that thought away, not wanting to start crying again, and work on getting Milo in his suit. He wakes up and hollers his disapproval, but his pacifier does wonders to calm him down. I get him situated in the car seat, buckled in tight, and ready to go. When I stand and glance to the right, I find Colton there, watching us. A look in his eyes that resembles love. Love for his son, sure, but maybe even love for me.

  I slip on my coat as Colton does the same, takes the car seat, and throws the diaper bag over his shoulder. When he reaches the door, he extends his hand, which I readily take. We walk together down the hall and out the back door. I can’t help but wonder if this will be the last time I’m here. If things go south with Colton and me tonight, I’m sure I won’t be welcomed back inside, let alone back to watch Milo.

  That thought is soul-shattering.

  Milo babbles in the back seat of the truck, swatting at the toys that hang from the seat handle. There are no other words spoken, just the sounds of a happy baby playing. I soak up every ounce of it, committing every second of his noises to memory. Just in case.

  Back home, I grab the diaper bag from the back and get the door unlocked for Colton. Even though he’s carrying his son, he still insists I enter the house first. I set the bag down on the kitchen table as he removes the blanket from the carrier and smiles down at his son. “You about ready to eat, little man?”

  Milo smiles and kicks, letting his dad know he’s more than ready.

  “I’m going to feed him some peas and carrots for dinner. What time will the Crock-Pot be done?” he asks hesitantly. There’s that feeling we’re both walking on glass, and I hate it. I hate that we’ve come to this.

  “Thirty minutes,” I tell him after glancing at the clock.

  Colton nods and heads to the cabinet to get jars of baby food.

  “Why don’t I go take a shower while you feed him. I’ll come back and get the dinner dished up,” I say, wringing my hands together in front of me. “Unless you’d rather not eat together.”

  Once Milo is secured in his high chair, he turns my way. “I want you here,” he states. “I want to be able to see you, to know you’re safe. I want you to help me give my son a bath and help put him to bed tonight. I want to pull you in my arms and snuggle under the blankets, only to fall asleep with you in my arms after I’ve made you come no less than twice. I want to wake up with you, and maybe even make love to you again before Milo wakes up. I want all of that, but I know in order to get it, we have to talk about what is going on.”

  He takes a deep breath. “So, go to your place and take your shower. Then come back here and have dinner with me. After we put Milo to bed, we’re going to figure out what is going on so we can move forward. Together.”

  God, the confidence in his voice, that conviction that everything is going to be okay almost brings me to my knees. I just pray he’s right. That once he hears what I say, he won’t ask me to leave, that the only way he can protect himself and his son is to ask me to go.

  I don’t want that.

  Not at all.

  But I would do it in a heartbeat if it meant they were safe.

  Because I love them.

  After my shower, I feel marginally better, but that looming sense of dread still niggles my mind. I slip through my door and into the laundry room, the scent of dinner filling the small space. When I open the kitchen door, I find Milo still in his high chair, orange stains from his dinner on his bib, and Colton standing at the counter. The table is set with two plates and two glasses of water, a basket of rolls sitting in the middle.

  “Hey, buddy,” I say softly to Milo, who throws a toy on the floor for me to retrieve.

  “That’s his new favorite game. I’ve picked that block up twenty times in the last five minutes, and if I don’t do it quick enough, he lets me have it.”

  I smile widely as I bend down and retrieve the wet plastic block. It has raised numbers and shapes on it in bright blue and red colors. When I set it down, he takes the block and tries to shove it in his mouth, only to drop it over the edge of the high chair tray once more. The moment he does, he looks up at me expectantly, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “See what I mean?” Colton asks as he joins me at the table, setting the dish with pot roast, potatoes, and carrots in the middle.

  We eat in comfortable silence, both taking turns to retrieve the block Milo continually throws on the floor. When we’re both full, I pick up the dirty dishes, while Colton places the leftovers in lidded containers. After, we go about our nightly routine, as if there isn’t this big thing, this living, breathing being following us around. Colton gives Milo his bath while I sit on the closed toilet seat and watch. There’s something so soothing, so domesticated about the act that makes me want to cry. Instead, I take out my cell phone and snap a few pictures of them together. Their smiles, the tender way Colton washes his son’s hair to make sure no soap gets in his eyes, the excitement in Milo’s face when he smacks the water and sprinkles droplets all over his daddy’s shirt. I document it all with my phone.

  Just in case….

  After the bath, I trail behind as we head to Milo’s room. Immediately, I go to the dresser and pull out a warm footed sleeper with bears. It reminds me of the brown outfit he wore last week with the bear ears on the hood. At the changing table, Colton is trying to wrangle his son into a diaper, but the little one is wiggling all over the place, throwing his head to the side as if he were about to roll over.

  “Listen here, little monkey. You need to hold still so I can get this diaper on you before the waterworks start.”

  I can’t help but giggle.

  “Oh, it happened a lot when he was an infant. The moment the cold air would hit his boy part, it was like someone flipped on the faucet,” he adds, finally securing the diaper into place.

  Whi
le he sets out to get the child into the sleeper, I head into the kitchen and make his bottle. As I’m shaking the water and formula together, I find Colton and Milo standing in the doorway, watching me. I offer a small smile and follow them back into Milo’s room. My gut churns with anxiety as we approach the rocking chair. The one Colton uses to rock his son to sleep.

  “May I?” I find myself asking.

  He nods in reply and hands me his son. I set my phone down on the small table by the chair and take a seat, positioning him in the crook of my arm. He’s getting bigger every day, and I know it won’t be long before we’ll have to come up with another way to get him to sleep.

  We.

  Will I be a part of it?

  I grin widely when I glance down at the baby. His daddy gave him a baby mohawk, even though his hair isn’t very long.

  “He gave me permission to style it that way. He said he wanted to look cool for bedtime,” Colton says.

  “Well, he’s definitely the coolest dude here,” I confirm, tapping the baby on his nose with my finger. He reaches for it, and the moment he catches my hand, he tries to shove the fingers in his mouth.

  “Ouch. I’m being upstaged by a four-month-old.”

  “I’m sure your ego can handle it.”

  “Yeah. I mean, he did get his good looks from me, after all,” he says, smiling from ear to ear as he looks down.

  I take my fingers from his mouth and replace them with his bottle. Milo instantly starts to suck it down, his blue eyes never wavering from mine. There’s so much trust and gratification in those tiny eyes, as if he knows we’ll always take care of him and give him what he needs.

  Colton moves away, letting me take care of his son. Gently, I start to rock the chair and hum a song I heard on the radio earlier. It’s a country tune about finding love, only to lose it. Probably not the vibe I was going for. Or ever. The thought of losing my new love makes me want to toss my cookies. I just found him. How can he be stripped away so quickly?

  As I keep rhythm with my humming and rocking, Milo’s eyes start to grow heavy. His bottle is nearly empty, and he spits out the nipple, an indication that he’s full. Carefully, I set the bottle to the side and move him to my shoulder. With tender taps, I snuggle him to my chest, inhaling his sweet baby scent. Is there anything better than baby shampoo?

  Yes, Colton’s body wash.

  When I get a nice burp from the sleeping baby, I get up and head to the crib. Colton is there and helps me put him down for the night. He’ll still get up at least once, but I’m hoping that the teething part is better, so it won’t be multiple times like the night before. Colton tucks the blanket around Milo’s abdomen, his little fists resting above his head as he snoozes. With a final kiss to my finger and then to his forehead, I slowly retreat from the room.

  I head to the kitchen, my throat suddenly parched. I hear Colton close Milo’s door before he joins me, taking the glass from my shaking hand and filling it with water. He holds the glass, grabbing my hand in the other, and leads me back to the living room. He takes a seat on the couch, his arm thrown over the back. It’s as if he’s giving me the option to sit wherever I want without pressuring me to sit directly beside him. Of course, I take the seat to his right.

  There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  Colton doesn’t say a word—just waits me out. He watches me as I take the glass once more. After I sip more water, I set it down and lean back against his chest. He’s warm and familiar as his arm comes down to rest on my shoulder, holding me close. Taking a deep breath, I begin my story.

  “I guess it’s best to start at the beginning, right? You know I lived in Southern California before I moved here. I grew up in Costa Mesa. My dad passed away when I was nine from a massive heart attack.” I feel Colton tense behind me. “He seemed totally healthy to me. He coached my soccer team in the summer and would take me fishing. He was this big guy, larger than life, and one day he was just… gone.”

  Deep breath.

  “Mom never really recovered, though she tried. She was a good mom, would always bake cookies for class parties, and drive me to and from practice. But she missed him. She worked at a hotel nearby and was excellent at her job. She ended up moving up the ladder, and a few years ago, was offered a regional director position in Florida. I was working, doing well for myself with my design business, so she decided to take it. She wanted a fresh start, you know? And I wanted that for her. I wanted her to be happy again.

  “My grandma had always talked about the place she grew up. Fair Lakes, Missouri. She met my grandpa, who was in the Army, and when he moved, she went with him. They ended up in Southern California, where they got married and had my dad. She always would talk about this place, though. Grandma made it sound so wonderful, with that midwestern charm and hospitality.”

  My heart starts to pound in my chest as I take another quick sip of water.

  “That’s why, when I needed to leave town quickly, I came here.” My voice sounds distant, foreign, even to my own ears.

  “Why did you have to leave, Hollis?” Colton asks, his thumb gently stroking my arm in comfort.

  I sit up and turn so that we’re facing each other. It takes me a few long seconds, but I finally get the words past my lips. “I saw something.”

  Chapter 13

  Colton

  Her words have my blood running cold in my veins. “What did you see, baby?” I ask, pulling her a little closer. I need the comfort as much as she does. I need her as close as I can get her. A thousand different scenarios are running through my mind. Is she safe? Are we safe? I have my son to think about too. “You can tell me.” Fuck, at this point, I need her to tell me. It’s no longer a want. I need to know what we’re dealing with here.

  She nods. “I used to volunteer at a homeless shelter. Just one night a week, I’d go and help cook and serve meals. There was this mom, Charity, and her little girl, Jasmine. They lived there. They were on the run from Jasmine’s father. He was abusive to both of them, and they had nowhere else to go. I don’t know where they were from—Charity would never talk about it. Anyway, that little girl, she stole my heart. They both did. I thought of Charity as a friend, and Jasmine, she was a perfect example of innocence. She was just happy to have a hot meal and a place to lay her head at night. It breaks my heart still today to think about what they went through to get out. To get to a place where they were safe. One night, she drew me a picture. It was of me, her, and her mom at the park. We’d gone there the week before.” She pauses and takes another sip of water. “She was so proud of the picture, and I promised her I would put it on my fridge as soon as I got home.”

  There is a knot in my gut. Did the abusive ex find her? Did he hurt her? My hold on her tightens yet again at the thought of anyone hurting her.

  “Colt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

  “Sorry.” I loosen my grip and kiss the top of her head. “I see red at the thought of someone hurting you.” She’s quiet, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing. “Please keep going, Hollis. I need to know what we’re up against so that I can help you.” There’s a brief silence before she begins again.

  “She worked so hard on the picture, I didn’t want to bend it, so I decided to just carry it home. I was walking to my car that night, just a block over from the shelter, and a gust of wind blew the picture from my hand. Of course, I chased after it. That drawing meant so much to me, and to her, that I didn’t have any other choice. I made her a promise, you know? I told her I would hang it on my fridge, and I didn’t want to break my promise to her.”

  “Because you’re the sweetest woman I know.” I don’t know what higher power brought her to me, but I will forever be grateful to have her not only in my life but my son’s.

  She laughs lightly. “Have you met your mother, or your sister-in-law or Gwen? You’re surrounded by sweet women.”

  “Maybe,” I agree. “But you’re the only one who’s m
ine.” The tension in her shoulders eases just a little at my declaration.

  “Um… your mother?”

  “Dad’s already claimed her,” I tease.

  “Fair enough,” she says, and I can already hear that she’s starting to relax a little. “Anyway, I chased after the picture. It had so much meaning to both of us. The wind blew it down an alley, and as fast as my feet could carry me, I followed. The picture fell to the ground behind a dumpster. I didn’t even hesitate to kneel down and reach for it. When I finally had it in my hands, I heard a deep, menacing voice that had me freezing.”

  She pulls out of my arms and turns to face me. “I should have run. I know that now. I never should have stopped moving. I should have just moved on and not stopped until I got to my car. I had the picture, which is all that I wanted. Instead, I froze. Two guys, they were talking about drugs and money, and evidence.”

  “Fuck,” I mutter, running my hands through my hair. “Drug deal?”

  “Yeah, I assume so. Only it’s a little more complicated than that. I knew I had to get out of there. I knew I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And it may sound bad of me, but I didn’t care what they were doing. I just wanted out of that situation. I wanted to be away from them, and whatever it was that was going down.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I stood, and it was my intention to take off running, but I tripped over my own feet. My legs were shaking so bad I lost my footing and fell to the ground. They, of course, heard me and came running. One of them was a cop. He was in uniform. I will never forget his face as he stared down at me.” She stops and takes a deep breath. “He looked so angry, and there was a hint of panic in his eyes.”

  Fuck, this is not good. Who knows what was really going on and a crooked cop takes this to an all-new level. “You’re doing great, babe,” I encourage her. I need to know the rest of the story.