“Oh, Maxie. My brave girl.” I hold her as tight as I can while tears stream down my already wet cheeks.
Bear tosses a warm blanket over our shoulders just as a bang sounds against the wall. King’s hands appear on the ledge. Bear gives him a hand and helps him inside.
King rushes to us, wrapping us both in his arms. “I was so afraid I was going to lose you,” King says, his voice frantic. “So fucking afraid. Tricia wasn’t alone. She had guys waiting for us by the garage. They shot at us. We took two of them down before I could get to you. I was so fucking afraid.”
“I’m fine. We both are,” I assure him, relieved to be able to speak the words out loud.
“I can’t believe you did that. You went out there,” he says, searching both myself and Max for any visible injuries.
“I had to,” I say, “I had no choice. The door was open. I heard her calling for me.” My chest tightens as I replay the events in my head. “I had to,” I repeat.
King presses his forehead to mine. He grips the back of my neck and holds me to him as close as he can. “I know, baby. I fucking know,” his voice cracks.
Sammy bursts into the room and crashes his way into the family hug. For a few moments, we say nothing.
Thia comes into the room holding Nicole Grace.
“When did you guys get here?” I ask, finally able to catch my breath.
Thia frowns. “The house is underwater, and the club’s roof is gone. We took the boat and made it here just before the water rushed in.”
“I’m glad you’re all okay,” I say.
Thia smiles and looks at our family. Sopping wet in a pile on the floor. “Ditto.”
“Can I say a potty word mommy?” Maxie asks, tugging on my wet shirt.
I smile into her hair. “Sure, why not? Potty words seem a little silly after what we just went through, but just this once.”
She stares up at me, cupping her mouth with her hand, I bend as far as my big belly will allow to hear her better. “That lady is a real pee pee head,” she whispers.
King chuckles. Apparently, Preppy and I aren’t the only ones who need to work on our whispering skills.
I kiss her on the top of her wet curls. “Yeah, she is. She most definitely is.”
“Was,” King says, so only I can hear.
“Was what?” I ask.
“She was a pee pee head.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what is she now?”
A soaking wet Preppy walks into the room, straightening his soggy bow-tie. “Dead.”
* * *
Max and Sammy wriggled free from our hold and are now playing with Bear’s kids in the corner of the room. Nicole Grace is asleep in Thia’s arms.
Preppy and King saw Tricia’s body floating face-first by the shed, and I can’t help but feel bad for her. She may not have really wanted to be a mother, but she did want to be loved, and she was willing to sacrifice anything or anyone to get it.
My stomach tightens, and I feel like I’m being ripped apart from the inside out. “Ahhhhh!”
King moves closer to my side and asks a silent question, concern and worry lining his face once again.
I nod because I can’t answer him. The pain is too great. And just as it ebbs, it starts a new. I feel a pressure like I’ve never felt before, and there’s no doubt about what’s happening.
King tells Thia to take the kids into the bedroom attached to the bonus room. Preppy appears with some blankets.
King puts his arms around my shoulders to lift me, but I shake my head. “There’s no time,” I manage to say as my entire body contorts from the pain as if I’m possessed by a demon.
I tap my hand against the maternity leggings, and King moves to swiftly to peel the wet pants and underwear down my legs.
“What do you need me to do?” King asks.
“Ahhhhhhhhh…” I scream as the pain hits me harder than any other wave before it. This time, I give in to the need to push and bare down as hard as I can until I feel a blood vessel pop in my eye. There’s this burning, tearing feeling between my legs, and it’s like being sliced and set on fire at the same time.
King looks down. “I see the head. You’ve got this, baby. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve got this.” I focus on King’s eyes as another contraction sits on my stomach like an anvil. The pain is greater than I knew was possible, but even as it wreaks havoc on my body, my instinct kicks in, and as I push one more time and my vision turns to static, I reach down and feel for my baby.
King raises up on his knees and watches with both fear and wonderment as I deliver our new baby into the world. I pull her from my body and set her on my chest. King wipes her with a clean sheet, and although she’s not crying, I know she’s okay because bright blue eyes stare up at me in wonderment.
The pain is gone as if it never was.
King covers us both in a blanket, and I look up at my husband.
“Holy fucking shit,” Preppy says from the corner of the room. “Are you a fucking superhero or something because I feel like you should have told me a while ago, and frankly, I’m a little butt hurt about it.”
“Fuck yeah, she is,” King says, with pride in his voice that surges into my chest. He covers me and our new baby with another soft, clean blanket. “I can’t believe she’s here. I can’t believe what you just did.”
Preppy clears his throat. “Uh, is this a good time to let you know that what I just saw down there was a fucking shit show, but for some reason, I’ve got a chubby.” He scratches his beard. “And for the first time in my life, even I’m concerned about my mental status.”
“Prep,” King warns.
“I’ll give you two some space,” Preppy says, as if his leaving was voluntary and not because King is demanding it with his eyes. He heads toward the door. “I hope the cell service is back up soon. I gotta talk this through with Doc.” I can still hear him muttering to himself on the other side of the door. “Maybe, I should start going to church…”
I look down at our newest little one whose wrapped her little hand around my index finger. She makes a noise like an amused grunt, and I chuckle. “I have the perfect name for her.”
King smiles knowingly. “I think I can guess what it is.”
I press a kiss on the top of our daughter’s tiny head. “Welcome to the world, Polly Storm King.”
We may have named her after a hurricane, but she’ll be no match for one.
I rest my head against King’s chest.
Just like her parents.
Chapter 8
Ray
SIX WEEKS LATER…
The generator powering our refrigerator and lights, the one on our porch that’s been running twenty-four hours a day for the past six weeks, is louder than a lawnmower, but after six weeks, I’m used to it. The vibration in my ear drums has become the new normal.
Polly is propped on the counter in her bouncy seat while I heat her bottle. I check the temperature of her formula on my wrist. It’s perfect. “Alright, baby girl. Lunch is served.” I look down only to find that Polly is now fast asleep.
I smile and set the bottle down. “I guess lunch will have to wait,” I whisper, running the back of my index finger over her plump little cheek. I carefully unbuckle her from the seat and carry her into our bedroom where I place her in her bassinet and adjust her soft swaddling blanket.
I check my phone to make sure the baby monitor is working before heading out into the living room.
“Ray?” A voice asks. Preppy’s wife Dre pops her head through the open screen door. “Sorry, I didn’t want to just come right in. I rang the bell, but this damn thing is so loud out here I didn’t know if you heard it or not.”
I hadn’t. “Come on in,” I say. “How was New York?”
Dre smiles and steps inside. “Thanks. It was great, but if I’m being honest, I love my father, but these past few weeks have been the longest of my life. We took the first flight back after the airport reopened.”
&
nbsp; I return her smile. I’m happy to see my friend again.
I pause and my smile grows wider.
Happy.
I’ve felt a lot better over these past few weeks, but this is the first time, I’ve been able to place that word with something I was feeling.
“What’s got you all smiley?” Dre asks, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.
I shake my head. “Just happy to see you.”
“That makes two of us.”
“Preppy and King are outback with the brood.” I round the counter into the kitchen and grab a mug from the cabinet. “Coffee? Tea? Beer?” I ask Dre.
She flattens her hands on the counter. “Nope. They aren’t. Preppy and Bear took the whole lot of them to Bear’s house to check out the new playground Thia built, and the only thing I want right now is to keep watch over that baby of yours while you go take some me time.”
I put the mug away. “That’s okay. You don’t have to—”
“I know I don’t, but I’m doing it anyway, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Where is the little miracle?”
“She’s sleeping in her bassinet in our room,” I say slowly.
Dre claps her hands together. “Great.”
“The bottles are—”
“Not my first rodeo, Ray!” She calls out to me, already halfway down the hall.
“You’re starting to sound a lot like your husband, you know,” I call back.
She looks over her shoulder. “I mean it. Go take some time for yourself, and don’t come back because I’ll just send you back out again.” She winks and carefully opens the bedroom door, disappearing inside and shutting it quietly without so much as a click.
I look around the quiet living room.
Now, what the fuck am I supposed to do?
I shove my feet into my flip flops and head outside. The sunlight is warm against my skin. The generator is deafening but thankfully fades as I pass it on my way to cut through the backyard to the bay.
The scent of salt and fish is as it was before the storm, lightly perfuming the humid air.
I walk past the addition and stop to look it over. It was severely damaged during the storm. What was left of the framing had to be torn down and rebuilt. But King’s enlisted the help of a contractor, and after repairing our damaged roof and the flood-damaged siding of the existing house, they made quick work of getting back to the business of expanding the house. Now, it looks like part of the house, an unpainted part, but part nonetheless. I run my fingers across the grey stucco and feel the excitement of using all the new space being created.
I don’t dare go inside. King has already warned me that I’m not to go in until it’s complete because it’s not safe.
My thoughts turn to the storm and how I was able to save Max while pregnant, while in labor, during a hurricane.
And King’s worried about me stepping on a nail or something.
I chuckle at the thought.
The wet air feels sticky and warm against my pale skin as I head through the grass toward the water, which is now back in its proper place within the bay. I sit and dangle my feet over the edge. The setting sun glistens off the water, and this far from the angry noise of the generator, I can actually hear the birds rustling the trees and occasional splash of a jumping mullet.
I close my eyes and lean back in the grass, but the second my eyes are shut, I realize that something’s missing from me entirely enjoying the moment.
Someone.
The man who has been everything to me for years. Suddenly, I feel guilty for how he must have been feeling while I was trapped under the haze for not being myself. King’s still every much the man I fell in love with all those years ago, but who am I now?
He must have heard my thoughts because, suddenly, I hear his deep voice above me, rumbling into my skin and covering me with more warmth than the sun ever could.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he says.
I open my eyes, and his beautiful face comes into view. Bright green eyes peer down at me with concern and love. I pat the concrete space next to me, and King sits, our thighs touching.
We haven’t talked much since the hurricane. In all honesty, there hasn’t been time. And with everything that happened during the hurricane, I think both of us were content with just knowing that everyone was alive and safe and the conversation, seeming much less important in the face of death, was temporarily put on a shelf.
It’s time.
“I was just thinking that I’m not the same innocent girl I was when we met,” I admit.
King points to the tattoo on my back. The one he gave me years before. He runs the pads of his fingers over the words written into the elaborate vine design. I don’t want to repeat my innocence. I want the pleasure of losing it all over again.
“You’re right. You’re not,” King says.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say I felt a twinge of hurt at his words.
He continues, “When we met, I thought you were the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever saw. You were feisty and quick-witted, and the way you defied me made me want you even more. After we got together, I didn’t think it was even possible for you to grow even smarter or sexier than you already were.” His voice deepens. “Or make me harder than you did, but you do. Yeah, you’ve changed. Because you’re more now. Not less. Not entirely different, but more.”
I remain silent because his words have stilled my tongue and stirred every other emotion. Ones that aren’t pooling in a puddle of brown, but separate and identifiable.
King leans back in the grass, keeping himself propped up on his hands. “You’ve lived. You’ve grown. It happens to everyone. Even me.”
I can’t help but ask, “What about Preppy?”
He quirks an eyebrow, the one with the scar through the middle. “Good point. Okay, maybe that doesn’t apply to Preppy.” He laughs at his own joke. The sound wraps around me. Deep and pure it invades my senses, and even after all these years I still feel his laugh vibrating throughout my entire body, vibrating straight through to my heart. “Does it bother you? That you’ve changed?”
“No, but I keep thinking that I’m not her anymore. The girl you fell in love with.” My cheeks burn with the admission. He may be forcing me to face him but my eyes lock on a patch of grass between us.
“Look at me,” he demands.
I want to look at him, but I’m still too embarrassed.
“Pup, look at me,” he repeats.
I finally raise my eyes to meet his. They’re beautiful and bright under the full moon, but there’s anger in them that hadn’t been there a few moments ago. The space between his brows lined with a deep frown. “The younger versions of ourselves are not the better versions.” His hand seeks finds mine and large fingers thread through my small ones. Tanned skin on pale, resting on my upper thigh. “Don’t you see that? You’re so much more now. So much fucking more.”
His bright green eyes appear even brighter under the glow of the full moon. “Do you remember when I told you that you scared the shit out of me?”
I recall the memory and the words we exchanged that night inside of his truck while we watched Max from a distance.
“I’ve been in a maximum-security prison. I’ve been around the worst of the worst. I’ve had to sleep with one eye open, thinking my next breath could be my last,” King says.
“Why are you telling me all this?” I ask.
He turns toward me and our eyes lock. He reaches out and runs the back of his pointer finger along my cheek. “Because I want you to know that none of those motherfuckers ever scared me as much as you do.”
My body warms at the memory. I graze my fingertips against my cheek as if I can still feel the warmth of his touch from that night. “I do remember.”
How could I ever forget?
“Pup, I was scared of that innocent version of you,” King’s lips remain flat as he looks back over the bay. He covers our joined hands with his other hand. He turns at the waist, his u
pper half now facing me. He reaches out and cups my face in both of his hands. “Now, you’re a mother who would do anything to protect her kids at any cost.”
“So, you’re not scared of me anymore.” It’s not a question. I hate the sound of defeat in my voice and how deflated I feel inside.
“No, Pup, you don’t get it.” King growls. His gaze bores into mine. “I was scared of you back then. Now?…I’m fucking terrified.”
King was never great at words, and so he drives his point home, communicating the way he knows will get his point across.
His lips claim mine in a raw, emotional possession of my mouth and my soul.
He pulls back, leaving me wanting more and hating the space between us, so I fill the space with long overdue words. I take a moment to collect my thoughts and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I take a deep breath because King’s right. It’s time to tell him everything.
“Since Nicole Grace was born, it’s been like there’s this…this thing. This entity of hopelessness weaving its way inside my body, like a parasite, telling me that it’s impossible for me to be happy. Like at any second, all of this could go away. You. The kids. I can’t lose any of you. I was walking around feeling nothing but worry or guilt every single second of the day and most of the night because I couldn’t sleep. You, the kids, you’re everything to me. The thought that anything could happen to any of you at any time was overwhelming me, making the smallest tasks seem like climbing a mountain. I shut down. And then with the hurricane coming and then Tricia showing up…it all just exacerbated those feelings. It became too much. The voice inside my head grew louder and the hopelessness dug its nails into me even deeper.”
“I’m sorry you went through that.” King says, reaching for my hand. “How do you feel now?”
I smile. “I was just thinking about that when Dre came over. “Happy. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy.”
King’s eyes brighten. “Good. So fucking good.” He presses a kiss to my head, and I hear the relief in his words. He sighs into my hair, and it’s like I can feel some of the worry leaving him with his breath.
King of the Causeway: A King Series Story Page 6