by Harlow Stone
Chapter Thirty-three
Ryder
She wanted pastries?
I got her fucking pastries.
I’ll get her anything she wants and she knows I’ll do it with a smile on my face because I’m the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
I roll up the sleeves on my black dress shirt as I walk from the bathroom to the closet where Elle is. I gave her the two orgasms she requested this morning, I’m sure she knows I would have given them to her regardless of whether she agreed with me or not. I fucking love that woman, and putting a smile on her face, watching her come apart beneath me are two of my favorite things in the whole world.
Her makeup is already done, her wild mess of blonde and brown hair is loose and flowing down her back. I smile as I watch her from the doorway. She’s huffing, something she does a lot lately when she’s trying to get her pants on and complains that ‘nothing fucking fits!’
“Need some help, beautiful?”
Her evil eyes swing toward mine and she stills for a moment, hands on the pants that she’s currently trying to pull over her luscious ass, and failing miserably. “Don’t, Callaghan. Don’t you dare fucking say it.”
Blowing the hair off her face, she continues to fight with her pants. This has been going on for months now. Elle is not a woman you can talk into wearing a dress out in public without wearing tights or whatever the fuck she calls them underneath. At home is a different story, and putting her fine ass into a dress without pants or panties is a favorite pastime of mine.
If she doesn’t hurry up, we’re going to be late. As much as I don’t mind waiting on her I head into the lion’s den, prepared to take whatever shit she gives me but not willing to watch her battle with her pants any longer. Since she’s already seated on the stool, I kneel down and grab the tights from her hips and pull them off her legs.
“What the hell Ryder, I almost had it!” she whines. If she’s not whining lately she’s bitching, if she’s not bitching she’s crying. The only time she stops is when I hold her or fuck her and I’m completely okay with that.
I set my determined eyes on her glassy ones. “No beautiful, you did not have it.” I grab her by the arms and pull her up, letting the green summer dress she has on fall to just above her knees before I pick her up in a bridal carry and head out of our room. “It’s Denny’s birthday, Elle. I’m not missing it just because you’re struggling to put pants on that you don’t need.”
She huffs, but I notice she’s just too tired to argue. I hate that she doesn’t sleep well when I’m gone, hopefully I can start sending the guys on the out of town jobs and focus more on being at home, especially once the baby arrives which could happen any day now.
I’ll never forget the first ultrasound.
Fuck, I’ll never forget any of them and I made sure I was there for every single one. There’s something surreal about hearing your child’s heart beat for the first time. Never had I felt so proud. Proud of the strong woman Elle has become and proud with myself. I spent a long time as a bachelor with no intention of changing—until Elle came along. She surprises me daily, no moment is a dull one and I thank my lucky fuckin’ stars that this is the woman I get to have a family with.
“Ryder, I need my shoes,” she finally says as I walk out the back door with her still in my arms. The small get together for Denny’s birthday is at the little cottage beside mine that Elle used to rent.
“Beautiful, we’re going next door you don’t need shoes.” As usual, she huffs at me.
There are some things she lets go, but for the most part she argues with me at every damn turn. The only thing she doesn’t argue with me about lately is food, and that’s only because whatever you place in front of her she’ll eat. She still maintains a good workout schedule, but I’d be lying if I said I won’t miss her pregnant body. A little more ass, a beautiful bump that carries my child, and tits I can’t get enough of.
“If you keep staring at my tits instead of where we’re going, you’re going to trip on something,” she says.
I chuckle and set her on her feet making the last few steps to Denny’s back porch. “About fucking time, I’m starving!” Finn complains from where he waits at the table. Denny replaced Elle’s small table for four with something bigger for entertaining.
Elle takes no offense to Finn’s jab at her tardiness as she sits down at the table. “Me too!”
Taking the seat next to her, she automatically puts her feet in my lap as Cabe hands her a tray of different meats and cheeses. “Thanks, Cabe,” she mumbles around a mouthful, balancing the tray on her belly, not bothering to pass it around to anyone else.
Finn opens his big mouth, ready to argue with her for not sharing. The smart shit wisely snaps it closed when I glare at him. The only time Elle isn’t arguing, crying, or mouthing off in the presence of others is when she’s eating, and as much as I put up with all that shit, sometimes the silence is a blessing.
“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Asks the bimbo sitting beside Hunter. I’m not sure who she is, he seldom brings women into the fold unless he plans on fucking them more than once.
Everyone is quiet as they wait for Elle’s response. She’s become mother hen to my guys; saying it like it is and never putting up with the less than intelligent women they bring around.
She swallows the cheese she had in her mouth before she speaks. “Actually, I’m just heavy and don’t know how to put the fork down since I quit smoking.”
Bimbo has the nerve to look at her with sympathy before she comes around the table and sits on the other side of Elle. “Oh my god, you should try this new diet a friend of mine is on…”
I don’t listen, but like the rest of my men I keep my eyes on Elle, anticipating what will come out of her foul mouth next. Setting the now empty food tray on the table, Elle stands up, towering over the idiot in the chair as she continues to ramble about how important a no carb diet is.
“You know, Sally…”
“Sarah,” she corrects.
Elle smirks. “Right, Sarah. I am feeling a little crampy, maybe I should have shared the meat and cheese platter instead of hogging it to my heavy self.”
Sarah nods. “That’s the first step, knowing when enough is—AHHHHH!”
I watch the gush of water fall between my wife’s legs, soaking the deck and the shoes of the idiot broad in front of her.
“Ooops,” Elle says.
I’m too shocked to move until Sarah shouts. “Did you just piss on me?”
The smirk vanishes from Elle’s face. “No you dumb shit I’m pregnant, now get the hell out of here unless you want blood on those hooker heels too!”
I grab her by the shoulders. “Shit! Jesus, we need to get to the hospital.”
Elle shakes her head. “I’m fine handsome, wait until the contractions start.”
I press my lips to hers. “I love you, fuck! I’m gonna be a dad.”
She leans up on her toes to deepen the kiss before she lets out the most blood curdling scream, falling toward the ground. But as always, I catch her.
I’ll always catch her.
Epilogue
How did I get here?
I know the answer without too much thought when warm hands settle over my baby bump, his thumbs moving slowly over the soft material of my ivory maxi dress.
It’s taken a long time to get where I am, and even longer for me to believe it. That’s the thing about the heart, you can tell yourself one thing but at the end of the day until your heart and your mind catch up and meet in the same place, everything seems surreal.
Was I held in a basement and tortured for three days?
Yes, I was.
I was also violated and beaten in a jail cell, not to be topped by the most horrific of past experiences when I was but a moment away from being taken against my will—in every form of the word.
I won’t dare say that everything happens for a reason. There was no reason for any of that awful shit to happen to my family or myself. The fact
I’m still sitting here today only proves that I prevailed, I made the most of what is left and I’m where I’m supposed to be.
Fortunate.
Loved.
These past few years I have lived with the mindset that if you don’t fear death, then it won’t hurt. I lived that way because I felt as though I had nothing left to live for. For some fucked up reason it didn’t stop me from fighting to stay alive. I’ve fought with everything I have and everything in me believing the sole reason I did it was for retribution for my family, and perhaps justice for myself.
Little did I know that fighting would get me here. Call it fate, call it kismet, call it whatever you want. But when I moved into that little cottage in North Carolina I was exactly where I needed to be. Of course I didn’t know it at the time, and it was a long journey to get there with many people guiding me along the way.
I still miss my family, their death doesn’t go away and there are days when it doesn’t hurt any less. But I appreciate what I had more now than I did a few years ago. That’s the problem with anger, one of the many stages of grief. It eats you alive until you’re but a shell fighting against yourself rather than giving in.
Finding out that Andrew was responsible for killing my family took away from the happy memories I held, replacing them with a constant burn that turned me into the ice-cold bitch I once was. Surrounded by hate, wine, and overflowing ashtrays of stress was my way to self medicate, numbing myself to any feeling other than hate.
I’d say that I’m ashamed of who I turned into, but I’m not. I’ve never denied who I am and that part of me, that year of walking around with cement boots fighting against the current of water is what made me who I am today.
I’m not entirely proud of my actions and I’m not content with the way I’ve treated some people by blocking them out and closing every door that was left open for me. However, at the end of the day, I know I’ll always be stubborn and I’ll always be me. While some might lean on the first willing shoulder to cry on, I’ll be the first to turn away.
Asking for help has never been my forte, and I don’t suspect that will change. It’s gotten better over time, but there are some things that can’t be removed; taking the stubborn out of my Irish roots is one of them.
“Wiwy!”
I lean back against Ryder’s chest, stretching my legs out on the freshly cut grass. His deep chuckle vibrates against my back and I can’t help but smile while correcting him.
“Lily, handsome boy,” I say, with emphasis on the ‘L’ that he has trouble pronouncing. He gives me the trademark Callaghan smirk before scooting around and continuing his task.
Ryder’s arms tighten around me as we watch our sweet boy waddle between headstones, leaving a string of flowers in his wake. It’s not organized, it’s completely messy and absolutely beautiful.
Jackson Matthew Callaghan was born almost two years ago in the very place I found my solace. Another full circle moment giving me back an emotion that I never thought myself worthy of again.
Peace.
“Fuck they’re coming beautiful, hang on!”
Ryder tries to move me from my spot on the deck but I cry out from the pain between my legs. “Ahhh!”
‘Get something to lay her down on!” Cabe barks. I notice Denny grabbing a single lounge cushion, laying it down on the deck.
“Everyone stay behind her fucking head!” Ryder growls, shifting me so I lean against Denny before he crawls back between my legs.
“Arrgghhhh!” I scream, tears threatening to pour over.
Ryder wipes the sweat from his brow before putting his hands on my knees. “Gotta look, Elle.”
I nod my head, watching Cabe toss a handful of towels at him before grabbing my hand. I try to stop myself from panicking. I had a quick labor with Lilly and this being my second child could be even quicker. I ignore all thoughts that something could be wrong, that this is moving too fast. I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth looking at Ryder and the view behind him.
It’s the same view I stared at for months, the one that got me here, the one that unknowingly answered my questions and prayers. I was blinded by a cruel fate for so long but I’m still here!
I allow that to sink in, penetrating my bones and warming my soul. Fate would never be so cruel as to take something else from me and the beautiful man with the halo of horizon behind him.
“I see the head, beautiful.”
The shock and awe on his handsome face is stunned, staring at me, waiting for me to say something to ease his worry as Hunter barks on his phone in the background to who I assume is an emergency dispatcher.
I relax, letting my mother instinct take over.
I’ve done this before.
I can do it again.
Allowing a small smile to grace my lips I reach for his face, pulling him toward me. Pressing my lips to his and keeping my greens on his blacks. “I love you, handsome, we can do this.” I whisper, “Now get back down there because I need to push.”
His strong hand squeezes the back of my neck, firmly sealing his mouth to mine before he resumes his position. Placing one hand on my thigh, and the other between my legs, he nods.
So I push.
Watching the tears stream down his rugged face as he lifts a dark haired, howling baby boy from between my legs fills every last crack in my once ice-cold heart. The cord is still attached as he moves over me, resting the beautiful boy on my chest, cocooned between us. The mop of dark hair is just like his fathers along with the dark skin. I study his sharp nose, small chin, and hope the lightness in his eyes will at least give him my green ones.
“Jackson,” he says in a hoarse voice.
My questioning eyes leave my child to focus on his watering black ones.
“I laid eyes on the rest of my life one sunny day in Jacksonville. She almost ran me over, but it didn’t stop me from chasing her.”
I choke out a small sob through my happy tears. “Jackson,” I whisper.
We don’t listen to the hoots and hollers from the guys, or the paramedics as they take over. In that moment it was just us, and a sweet little miracle that would one day call me momma.
“He’s growing too fast,” Ryder says, placing a kiss on this side of my head. “Come back here little man!” he shouts, keeping his mini-me in line before he decorates the entire cemetery like a flower girl. Petals of all colors decorating the green and grey landscape.
Ryder is an amazing father, but I expected no less so I can’t say that I’m surprised. He’s firm when he needs to be with a healthy amount of nurturing. However, the men from Callaghan Security would agree with me when I say that I wear the pants when it comes to the parenting.
Jackson has his Daddy wrapped around his little pudgy finger.
I sigh. “He is, handsome. But I think we’ll be grateful he’s so big when Callaghan number two gets here. At least Jackson’s potty trained.”
Ryder chuckles behind me. “He had a good teacher.”
I smile shaking my head. The day I walked into the bathroom and saw Jackson with his mini-potty beside his daddy’s big potty nearly killed me. Of course my little boy has no aim, but that didn’t stop him from following in his father’s footsteps—literally—to pee like a big boy.
“Mummum,” Jackson says, pointing at me and back to the tombstone. I smile and reach my hand out, beckoning him closer so I can hold him. Falling into my arms, I hold him tight. “Yes baby, I’m Lilly’s mom too.”
Smiling up at me he places his chubby hands on my cheeks, squealing when Ryder pulls us both close, giving him a raspberry on his neck.
“Dadda, top!” he giggles, trying to say stop, but we both know he loves it.
Settling down between my legs with his sippy cup, I run my fingers through his black hair, lacing the fingers on my other hand with Ryder’s. I relish these moments, my strong handsome man behind me and a sweet little boy in our arms. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t remind myself how fortunate I
am to have come this far.
I went from having little family to having a big one. While most may not call it conventional, it means the world to me. My blood family may not be with me anymore, but it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate and love the one that I have. The men from Callaghan Security along with Matty have truly filled my heart. I’m grateful that Jackson has many uncles to look up to, so many strong men to learn from. I couldn’t have asked for better role models in my son’s life.
In a few more months we’ll meet our newest addition to the Callaghan crew. Once again, we decided not to find out what we’re having. Either will make me happy and proud, but I pity the poor lass if it’s a girl, she would stand little chance at ever going on a date with her broody uncles around.