The Miracle Baby Box Set: Volume One: Books 1 - 4

by Hamel, B. B.

  “Hi, Will,” I say.

  “How’s your first day going?” he asks me.

  “So far so good.” I hesitate a second. “Since when did you call instead of texting?”

  He laughs at that. “Since I decided to surprise you with lunch.”

  “Huh?” I look around, eyes wide.

  “I’m out in the parking lot. Can you come meet me? I’ve got a solid spread out here.”

  I can’t help but smile. “Okay, yeah. I was just thinking of taking my break.”

  “Good. You can’t miss me.” He hangs up the phone.

  I’m smiling as I get up. Teddy waves at me as I leave my desk and I wave back. I suspect I could just go home right now and nobody would notice.

  I head downstairs and out into the parking lot. Cahill Paper Company is located in a little office building in the middle of nowhere, along with a bunch of lawyers and accountants. The lot is pretty full, but Will wasn’t kidding. I spot him right away.

  He’s sitting in the bed of a truck, grinning at me as I approach.

  “What’s this?” I ask him, head cocked to one side.

  “Lunch.” He holds up a bottle of champagne. “Thought you might be hungry.”

  I laugh and shake my head, ignoring his idea of a liquid diet. “Since when did you have a truck?”

  “Bought it yesterday. What do you think?”

  I cross my arms, smiling a little bit. “Can you… afford it?”

  “Believe it or not, the KHL pays really well and there wasn’t a whole lot I wanted in Russia.”

  “In that case, I love it.”

  He laughs and pats the side. “Come on up.”

  I walk around the back and he helps me get into the bed. There’s a blanket spread out with a little basket, two glasses, and the opened bottle. He pours me a drink, which I sip while he brings out lunch.

  “Subs from Billy’s, just the way you like it.” He hands me over the long, white paper-wrapped sandwich.

  “No way,” I say, laughing again. “The sardines?”

  “The sardines.” He makes a face. “I saw some unappealing food in Russia, but I still think sardines are the worst.”

  “You’re missing out.” I open my sandwich and take a big bite. “Amazing.”

  He makes another face and holds up his glass. “To your new job.”

  We clink, drink, and eat. I haven’t had one of these sandwiches since high school and I’m genuinely surprised that he even remembers how I like mine. I guess I shouldn’t be shocked, since we used to go to Billy’s like every other day and I’d always get the same thing. Still, that was years ago.

  It’s pretty great, though. This little taste of home is just what I needed to lift my spirits today, not to mention Will’s looking particularly handsome in a tight gray t-shirt and jeans. He leans up against the truck bed casually and watches me for a second, a little smirk on his face.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “You look hot in your work outfit.”

  I blush and I’m about to yell at him, but I don’t want to be a hypocrite, considering I was just thinking the same thing about him. “Save it,” I say instead.

  He shrugs. “Just stating the obvious, is all.” He sips his drink again. “How’s it going, anyway?”

  “Not bad,” I admit. “The owner is super nice. It was tough coming in, though.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual reasons.” I smile and try to pretend like it’s no big deal.

  I swear he can see right through me. “You can tell me if you want,” he says.

  I hesitate, biting my lip. “Leaving my daughter for the first time was hard.”

  “Ah.” He nods slowly, as if he could possibly understand. At least he’s trying. “I can see how that’d be tough.”

  “She’s not used to it, you know? She doesn’t understand.”

  “Of course not, but she will. I guess she’s at home with Eleanor?”

  “And the nanny, Julissa.”

  “So she’s in good, familiar hands. That’s important, right?”

  “Definitely. I don’t know what I’d do without them.”

  “You’re a good mom,” he says softly. “You clearly care.”

  “She’s my daughter. Of course I care.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You know that’s not always the case.”

  I look away from him. A flash of the basement, dripping water. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Parents fucking suck.” He sighs and stretches his knee. “You’re okay, though.”

  “Thanks,” I say, smiling at him. He winces a bit as he fully extends his leg and I stare at his hand rubbing his thigh. “You should get that looked at.”

  He waves me away. “I did, back in Russia.”

  “Get it looked at here.”

  “Won’t tell me anything different.”

  “You could be doing physical therapy, right?”

  He hesitates. “They did mention that,” he admits finally.

  “So why not go see someone and get on that?”

  He doesn’t say anything right away. I take the opportunity to bite into my sandwich. I can tell he’s thinking about what I just said and trying to decide how he wants to respond. Typical Will, always considering everything and thinking before he speaks. That’s one trait of his that I really, really admire.

  “If I do physical therapy,” he says finally, “I’m afraid that it won’t work.”

  “I see,” I say.

  “I want to play again.” He looks down at the truck bed. “Is that stupid?”

  “Not at all,” I say. “But can you?”

  “I honestly don’t think so.” He meets my gaze and I can see the pain there. “It fucking sucks, but it’s probably true. I’m afraid if I do therapy, I’ll prove without a doubt that it’s never happening again.”

  “Or you’ll prove that it is.” I shrug a little bit. “Either way it’s worth a shot. Better than limping around all the time, right?”

  “Maybe. I do get a lot of pity from the hot ladies around town.”

  “Hot ladies around town?” I roll my eyes. “Gross.”

  “Hey, don’t be so jealous. There are a lot of older, sophisticated Westonites.”

  “Oh, Will, gross.”

  He laughs as I swat at him. “All the old ladies want a slice of this.”

  “I definitely don’t,” I grumble at him.

  “You big liar.” He smirks at me, shifting closer, and I realize how near he is to me. The bed of his truck is a decent size, but it’s not that big. We’re packed in here tight.

  “What, you think I’ve been pining for you all this time?”

  “Yes,” he says. “You probably watch my games online and think about tearing off my uniform.”

  “Hardly,” I say, although that was true back when he was in college.

  “I’m the most eligible bachelor in Weston now, I bet. And here you are, having lunch with me.”

  “I’m so lucky,” I say, dripping with sarcasm.

  “Be that way all you want, but I know the truth.”

  “What’s that?” I ask him.

  His eyes meet mine again. “You’ve been dreaming about the night I fucked you ever since it happened.”

  I gape at him, shocked that he’d say that. I don’t even know what to say as he laughs at me, eating his sandwich, but it shakes me to my core.

  He’s right. I have been dreaming about it. But it’s also the reason I stopped talking to him, and to hear it brought up so casually… it almost hurts. Except here he is, back in my life, and so close to me. My heart beats fast thinking about his touch, but I also want to run the hell away as fast as I can, and I don’t know which one I want more.

  “I should get back,” I say after a little more small talk. “That place can’t last long without me.”

  “I bet.” He grins and I help him clean up. When we’re done, he helps me down off the truck bed, and I watch as he hops off, wincing as he lands.


  “Thanks for all this,” I say. “It was really good.”

  “Anytime. I’m glad we’re talking again.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I smile at him, still confused.

  He hesitates a second. “Come here,” he says, and he pulls me against him in a big, tight hug.

  I hesitate before hugging him back. It feels so good to be in his arms again after so long. I used to live for these hugs, his big arms wrapped around me tight, his smell lingering on me for the rest of the day.

  And it still feels that way. It feels so good just having him touch me.

  We break apart. “Later,” he says, getting into the truck.

  “Bye.” I walk off, back to work.

  For the rest of the day, I keep smelling him on my clothes, and I don’t think I ever want that smell to go away.

  10

  Will

  I hate it when Addie’s right, but it happens a lot.

  I go see a local doctor the next day, and two days after that, I go to my first physical therapy appointment. It’s with this older guy named Anders. I think he’s Norwegian or something, because he speaks with a thick accent. He teaches me a bunch of exercises, and although it’s hard, I promise myself that I’ll give it a shot.

  “This is not cure, okay?” Anders says to me as I leave. “We strengthen, we build. But you maybe never fully fixed, okay?”

  “Okay, Anders,” I say.

  “And don’t forget your homework!” He flashes me a big grin and heads back inside.

  I never want to go home. My dad’s back, and he hangs around the house for hours at a time, mostly sitting in his study drinking whisky and smoking cigars. He’s on the phone at all hours, and I have no clue who he’s talking to. I don’t ask and he doesn’t ever mention it, which is fine by me. The man lives on takeout Chinese food and pizza, which is absolutely insane, considering his age. He’s starting to look like that’s his diet, unfortunately, but I don’t care. Let the bastard eat himself into his grave.

  The next day, I’m up in my room, doing my stretches and exercises when I hear a crash downstairs. I hesitate and check the clock. It’s a little after ten in the morning, and I know my dad’s been up all night, or at least most of it. When I was a kid and he’d stay up way too late, I always knew that I’d better get out of the house. Otherwise, he’d beat the shit out of me.

  The beatings stopped when I turned sixteen. I hit my growth spurt, put on some size and weight, and when he punched me in the eye one random Tuesday after school, I punched him right back. It knocked him to the ground, and I was so angry that I wanted to kill him. He hadn’t hit me for a little while, and I almost forgot what he got like.

  He looked up at me, his eyes wide with anger and fear, and I left him there. The beatings stopped after that, I think because he realized that I wasn’t an easy target anymore.

  The abuse never stopped, though.

  I flinch as I hear him come stumbling up the steps. I can hear him walking down the hallway toward my door and I’m praying for him to walk on past, but he doesn’t. He bangs on my bedroom door and grunts something, his words slurred.

  “Yeah, what?” I answer.

  “Open up.”

  I pull the door open a crack. He smiles at me, clearly drunk off his ass. “You’re sweating. Why are you sweating?”

  “I’m doing exercises.”

  “Exercises?” He grunts at me. “Open the door up, I wanna talk to you.”

  I open the door slightly wider. “What?” I ask him, trying to control my anger. I’m much bigger and much stronger than I was when I was sixteen, and if I didn’t need a place to stay right now, I think I’d level him just because I felt like it.

  “Why are you doing exercises?” he asks, slurring. He leans against the doorjamb and doesn’t come into the room.

  “Physical therapy,” I say. “For my knee.”

  He stares at me blankly before barking a laugh. “Therapy? You? You’re done,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Done,” he repeats. “Done, fucking done. I saw, y’know. Saw it happen.”

  I hesitate. “You watched my games?”

  “Every one. Saw you get wrecked. Laughed my ass off.”

  I clench my jaw. For a second there, I thought he might turn out to be a decent dad, but nope, there that goes. He’s still a fucking prick, even if he did watch the games.

  “Glad you enjoyed it,” I say tightly.

  “Looked bad. You ain’t playing again, boy, you know that? Ain’t never fucking playing again.” He cackles at me, unsteady on his feet. “Never shoulda gone to Russia, boy, never shoulda gone.”

  I step up to him. “Go to bed, you drunk idiot.”

  His nostrils flare like an angry horse and I think he might actually be wasted enough to try and hit me. Instead, he just sneers. “Never shoulda,” he says, turning away. “Never gonna again.”

  He stumbles off down the hall. I watch him go into his room, slamming the door behind him.

  I’m so fucking angry I can barely think. I walk over to my phone, snatch it from my desk, and text Addie. “Meet me in our spot,” I type. “Another episode.”

  She’ll know what that means. I haven’t used that code in a long time, but back in the day, when my dad used to try and beat my ass, I’d text her that he’s having another episode and that I needed to meet. She’d come spend time with me, no matter when or where, until I felt like it was safe to go back home.

  I don’t feel unsafe here, though, at least not for my sake. I feel like it’s unsafe for my father, and if I don’t leave, I’m going to hurt him very, very badly.

  I don’t wait to hear back from her. I just get changed, grab my walking stick, and head out the door. My knee’s a little sore and I’m still angry as all hell, but at least being away from that house and out in the sunshine makes me feel like a normal person again.

  I don’t bother posting up at the crossroads and waiting for her. I can’t be sure she’ll even show up, anyway. It’s a Saturday, so I know she’s not working, but still. She could be busy with her daughter or maybe there’s just nobody around to babysit. I can’t rely on Addie anymore to solve my problems, or at least I can’t assume she’ll come listen to them.

  It’s a sad thought as I make my way toward the falls. I head through the underbrush and climb down the rocks until I’m out near the edge, watching the water fly into the air.

  It’s actually weirdly peaceful, sitting at the edge of a waterfall. There’s a reason we used to come out here all the time. Addie would smile and lean back against the rock, letting the sun hit her in the face, arms stretched out next to her. I used to love watching her lay there for hours at a time while nothing happened, just nature doing its normal thing.

  I can almost feel all that again, sitting here alone. It’s not the same, obviously, but it’s still pretty good. I hate being back in Weston and I despise living with my father, but I’m getting better. I’m figuring it out.

  “Will?”

  Her voice pulls me from my thoughts and my heart leaps in my chest. I stand up and wave to her. “Down here,” I call back.

  She smiles and starts to head toward me, climbing down the rocks with ease. I note that it took me maybe five minutes to cover the distance while it barely takes her one.

  “I’m surprised you came,” I admit to her as she drops down next to me. We sit with our backs against the rock step, legs straight out in front of us.

  “I haven’t gotten that text in a while,” she says, shrugging. “I figured it was important.”

  “Yeah, well, now I feel a little silly sending it, honestly. I was pretty worked up.”

  “What happened?”

  I take a breath and let it out. “I went to physical therapy, like you suggested.”

  She smiles at me. “That’s awesome.”

  “Thanks. I was doing some exercises in my room when my dad came up, drunk as fuck like usual, and said some shit.”

  �
�What did he say?” she asks softly.

  I hesitate. “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  She nods. “I get it if you don’t want to say. I’m just surprised that he’s still pulling this shit.”

  “He’s an asshole,” I say. “He thinks I’ll never play hockey again and I’m wasting my time, and he told me so. I don’t know why or what his deal is, but it’s like he’s jealous or something.”

  “Maybe he is,” she says.

  “Maybe.” I sigh and rub my knee. “He’s just a drunk old man and I’m the closest target right now.”

  “Still, I thought he’d be past this.”

  “Nobody outgrows being an asshole.”

  She laughs a little bit and puts her hand on my leg. “I’m sorry, Will.”

  “Yeah. Me too. I shouldn’t have dragged you out here.”

  “It’s okay.” She pulls her hand back and I wish she wouldn’t. “I was bored, honestly. Cara’s taking a nap and Julissa’s there watching her, so I didn’t have much to do.”

  “Glad I could be of service then.”

  She smiles and I feel her shoulder touch mine. I thought she might pull away immediately, but instead the touch lingers.

  “Why don’t you move out of your dad’s place?” she asks me.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I could afford it.”

  “But instead you’re dealing with that dumb, abusive asshole.”

  I nod, looking away at the water rushing down toward the falls. I know the real reason that I haven’t made any moves yet. I can feel the rock under my fingers as I gently scrape at the surface, a nervous little gesture.

  “It would feel too permanent,” I say finally after a short silence. “If I move into my own place, I’m afraid I’ll get complacent.”

  “I can understand that,” she says. “But do you really think you’ll make any progress living in your dad’s house?”

  I sigh. “I know you’re right. It still feels wrong.” I pick up a pebble nearby and throw it into the water. “If I get an apartment, I’ll need a job to help pay for shit, and that’ll take up all my time. I’m afraid I’ll just settle.”

  “Look, I’m not trying to pressure you into anything.” She nudges me and I look back toward her. “But since when did Will Eaton settle for anything other than what he wants?”