by Rebecca Shea
He breathes heavily as he watches me, and I take another small step backward. “Stop,” he mutters, taking two steps toward me, closing any distance there once was. My heart beats violently in my chest, not because I’m afraid of him… I’m not, but because I’m afraid for him. The look on his face scares me; it’s the same face that was in the picture. Lost, void of emotion.
“Landon,” I whisper and set my hand on his chest. He grabs my wrist, holding me firmly in place. “Talk to me.” He shakes his head slowly from side to side, as if clearing his head. He stands silent, watching me, holding me by the wrist. “Let go.” I try to wiggle my wrist out of his firm grasp, but his grip tightens.
“Don’t leave,” he breathes against my face. Dropping the t-shirt to the floor, I bring my other hand to his chest.
“I’m not going anywhere, I promise. Just let go of my hand.” His grip loosens a bit and I wiggle my hand away, rubbing it.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks, running his fingers over my inner wrist, gently caressing it.
“No. You didn’t hurt me. I know you wouldn’t hurt me.” His eyes quickly find mine, searching for something.
“Never. I would never,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
With deep breaths, his breathing finally begins to settle, and he appears calmer. I bend down and pick up the t-shirt I had dropped.
“Don’t.” He pulls the t-shirt from my hands, tossing it onto an oversized chair that sits next to his dresser. His fingers trail up both of my arms where he finds the edge of the towel that I have wrapped around me. Slipping his finger under the edge, he pulls the end of the towel out. The only thing keeping the towel in place is my arms. With both of his hands placed on my upper arms, he gently pulls them away from my body and the towel falls into a pile at my feet.
He inhales sharply as he takes in the sight of me standing before him completely naked. I’ve never felt more vulnerable, more on display. Shifting, I try to pull my arms out from his gasp, but he won’t release them.
“Landon, please…”
“Lie down,” he orders, gesturing to the bed behind me. My heart races as he gently guides me backwards, the edge of the bed hitting the backs of my knees. Sitting on the end of the bed, he stands in front of me, still holding the tops of my arms. His thumbs strum the fronts of my shoulders as I wait for him to tell me what to do next.
“Scoot back to the middle of the bed.” My mind races in anticipation of what’s next and my arms shake as I push myself backward to the center of the bed, my legs extended straight out in front of me. Wasting no time, he kneels on the foot of the bed, straddling me at my feet. “Lie down,” he says, and I do. My heart beats erratically as he sits at my feet.
He runs his hands up the front of my legs, stopping just above my knees. His eyes inspect every inch of me as they follow his hands up my body. “So soft,” he whispers as his hands begin moving upward again and I catch my breath as his touch ignites goose bumps on my skin.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I nod my head. His thumbs hover at the junction of my hips and groin, gently rubbing small circles.
“Gorgeous,” he mumbles against my hip as he kisses a trail from my hip to my stomach. I close my eyes and grip the comforter beneath me, wanting to feel his every touch, every kiss. His arms snake along the side of my body as he nudges my legs apart, settling between them. His warm breath presses against my stomach before his lips trace the six-inch scar across my lower abdomen—my secret. I flinch when I feel his lips hover, over the scar, pressing kisses against it.
“Landon,” I whisper, urging him to stop. My fingers find their way to his forearms, pulling him upward to me. He takes his time, again trailing kisses all the way from my stomach to my chest, neck, then lips.
“Let me touch you,” he whispers as his hands explore me. His calloused fingers running across my sensitive breasts send a shiver through me. He notices, and does it again. He kisses his way back down my naked core, stopping at the scar. He runs his fingers over it and kisses it again.
“You okay, Doc?” he asks me again. I nod, trying to swallow against my dry throat.
“My secret.” My voice creaks. He crawls his way up me and settles in the bed next to me. Pulling my face into his hands, he cups my cheeks and kisses me. Intense, deep, passionate kisses. Resting his forehead on mine, he peppers my cheeks with soft, gentle kisses.
“Talk to me,” he says quietly, pulling a blanket over me, covering me. I almost find humor in the fact that he wants me to talk to him, trust him with my innermost secrets, yet he’s so closed off and unwilling to share even some of the simplest parts of himself. I inhale deeply, and close my eyes as the words shakily fall from my lips.
“I was sixteen years old and a sophomore in high school.” I pause when I hear a sharp inhale from him, but he kisses the corner of my mouth, urging me to continue. “I was dating Nathan; we’d been together since I was fifteen and a freshman and he was a junior. He was the captain of the football team, captain of the hockey team, and his dad was the mayor. Everyone in my small hometown knew of and loved his family.” My heart races as I pull the buried memories to the surface. “He was everything to me; I guess you can say he was my first love. Everyone wanted to be ‘us.’ I was the honor student and he was the star athlete, until I found out I was pregnant.”
I play with the little hairs at the base of Landon’s neck as I swallow the small lump that has suddenly formed in my throat.
“I knew the day I missed my period that I was pregnant. You just know your body. I was so scared, so afraid—but I was raised that you own your mistakes, you take responsibility for your actions, and I knew without a doubt that I was keeping my baby.”
The muscles in Landon’s jaws flex as he stares at me and I continue. “It was early May, and Nathan was within weeks of graduating. He had accepted a scholarship to play football at the University of Minnesota about four hours away in the Twin Cities. I didn’t know what he was going to say, but I knew we were strong, solid—so I wasn’t all that worried. I just assumed we’d figure it out as we went along.” I actually choke on those words. “Let’s just say, that’s not exactly how it went.”
“What happened, Reagan?” He pulls me closer to him while his hand rests on top of my stomach. His fingers gently trace the scar as I speak.
“He told me to get rid of it. He wasn’t ready for a kid or a serious relationship, and he questioned whether the baby was his. He had the audacity to imply that I was sleeping with someone else.” My voice is still shaking, but now with anger. “We’d been together for a year and I’d never been with anyone else. Of course, the baby was his. He left my house that day, and I never saw him again. He must have told his parents because his parents offered me money for an abortion, but when I declined, the rumors started running rampant about how I was a whore and had been cheating on Nathan while we were together.”
I bite at my lip as I recall the feelings, the emotions of those days—fifteen years ago. “Instead of dispelling the rumors, I packed a bag and spent the summer here in Wilmington with Mac and Gemma. Gemma talked me through some of the worst days of my life, or so I thought at the time.”
“What do you mean?” He brushes the hair off my forehead and tucks it behind my ear.
“When I moved back home for school in August, the rumors hadn’t died down. Every friend I thought I had didn’t want anything to do with me. Nathan had left for college. He walked away from me and his unborn baby—yet everyone believed his lies. The comments, the snickers, the bullying were horrible.” I pause for a second to calm myself.
“Obviously, being pregnant changed everything for me. I couldn’t play tennis in the fall like I used to, and I went from being one of the most popular girls in school to one of the most loathed, so I basically buried myself in schoolwork. I was a straight A student prior to getting pregnant, but being alone with no friends and no activities just forced me to throw myself even more into my
school work.”
Landon buries his face in my neck and I can feel him breathing me in. “Go on,” he urges me.
“So it was September sixth, Labor Day Weekend. My parents drove up to our lake cabin for one night to get it winterized and to pull the boat in from the lake. I decided to stay at home, since they’d be gone for just one day. I wasn’t feeling great when I woke up that morning, so I was glad I didn’t go with them. Throughout the day, I had minor cramping and I felt anxious, but I just thought I was over exaggerating and just nervous being home alone. I had laid down for a nap and, when I woke up, I was covered in blood. So much blood that my bed looked like a crime scene. I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know how serious it was. I was dizzy and nauseous, and when I tried to call my mom and dad, it went straight to voicemail. There is little to no cellular service at our lake cabin and no one has landlines.”
I feel Landon’s hand flex over my stomach and he presses a gentle kiss to my cheek before I continue.
“I had no one to call, not one person. My friends were no longer my friends, and we had no family that lived near us. I was too scared to call 911 because I was afraid. Everyone in that town vilified me and I didn’t want the added attention of an ambulance or police at my house. For the next hour, I laid in bed, crying, praying, not knowing what to do.”
“What did you do?” His hand flexes gently over my stomach.
“I got in the shower and cleaned myself up and then drove myself to the hospital. I don’t even know how I made it there. I was in so much pain and I honestly don’t remember driving there. There was so much confusion once I got to the hospital. I was a minor and they wanted my parents’ permission to treat me, because they didn’t know or didn’t think it was anything serious. Once it became an emergency, it was basically too late. My blood pressure had risen so high they immediately took me in for a C-section. Everyone knew it was too early to deliver a baby. I was barely nineteen weeks pregnant, but to save my life, they had to deliver my baby.” I choke back a sob as I relive that day. “I remember every detail as if it happened yesterday, the sounds, the smells—Hailey.”
“That was her name?” he whispers.
I nod. “Hailey was born at 6:51pm. Hours later, after I was stabilized, they explained to me that I had a placental abruption. That means the placenta separates from the wall of the uterus. Both of us were in extreme danger, which is why they had to deliver her.”
Tears roll from the corners of my eyes and into my hair as I try to tell the rest of the story. “She was so little, so frail, and they flew her to the children’s hospital in the Twin Cities. I didn’t even get to see her before she left. They were able to notify my parents via the sheriff’s department and they were on their way home to me.” I pause, inhaling deeply. “I called Nathan, since he was in the Cities. I explained what happened and that our baby was minutes away from him, and I needed him to be there—for her.”
Landon wipes the tears from my cheeks as they continue to fall, never loosening his firm hold on me. “He never went to her,” I continue. “He hung up on me when I told him what happened. She died twelve hours after she arrived there. Her little body was just too frail; her organs weren’t developed enough. She died alone.” A sob breaks free. “I never got to hold her.” Landon pulls me into his arms and holds me while I cry. And I cry again, for the second time this week for my little girl, that I never saw, never touched, and never held.
“I hate him,” I cry into his chest. “He was so close and he should have been there for her.”
“It’s okay,” he comforts me. Holding me in his arms again, it’s the one place I feel safe. Silence fills the air around us, and it’s peaceful, calm, content. Pulling myself together, I’m able to finish the story without crying, feeling a little stronger.
“The little box you saw, the pictures, the little hat, and the socks… that’s all I have of her. I still cry and hurt for her, and for me. For years, I harbored the blame for her death. But I finally realized, not so long ago, that to move forward, I had to forgive myself, and not place the blame on myself. I was so young.”
“It’s not your fault, Reagan,” he whispers against my temple.
“I know that now.” I sit up and pull the blanket around me tighter. Landon remains lying down, and I pick up his hand, playing with each finger and rubbing his palm. “So Hailey is buried at home in the little cemetery across town.” I drop my eyes to our hands, which are linked together. “I guess if there is one thing I took away from losing her, it’s that life isn’t fair. Life sucks serious ass sometimes, and I miss her. I miss her more than anything in this world, but I choose to be happy. I choose to know that it wasn’t my time to be a mom, but it will be when the time is right.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to share this with me,” he says, squeezing my hand.
“Thank you for listening,” I say, lying back down next to him. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me to him.
Yesterday was the first day I haven’t seen her since I met her. It was hell. Everyone agreed that we’d go to Mac’s tonight to celebrate my new position, but I don’t want to wait another thirteen hours to see her. She’s quickly becoming a narcotic I need to have, a craving I can’t shake.
Throwing on some shorts and a t-shirt, I grab my phone, keys, and wallet with a plan in mind. Pulling into a visitor parking spot at her condominium complex, what I once thought was a brilliant idea has me second-guessing myself. Opening the car door, I juggle the two large cups of coffee while trying to use my body to contain a wild beagle in the car. “Jesus Christ, Ollie, hold on.”
Setting both cups of coffee on top of the car, I untangle the leash that is now twisted around the gearshift in my car. With Ollie out of the car and wagging so wildly he looks like he’s having mild convulsions, I grab the two coffees and head for the front door.
“Now behave,” I tell Ollie, “and don’t piss on anything.” I can’t believe I’m talking to a fucking dog. I use my knuckle to press the doorbell and wait patiently in hopes that she answers. The door cracks open and there she stands in a black tank top and little white pajama shorts.
“Was hoping maybe you’d be up for a couple of visitors.” I shrug as Ollie bounds forward, jumping at her feet.
“Ollie,” she squeals, bending down to accept dog kisses all over her cheeks as she rubs his head. She stands up and sends me the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen. “Kiss me,” she says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips.
“I like surprises like this,” she mumbles against my lips. “But what’s with Ollie?”
I laugh, and hand her a coffee. “Oh, Ollie and I decided to hang out for a little while together this morning… so we mutually decided that we’d swing by and bring you a coffee.” I laugh again. She reaches down and unhooks the leash from Ollie’s collar. He sniffs his way around the kitchen and living room while we both sit down on the stools at the kitchen island. “I love that dog,” she says. “I’d adopt him if I had more time at home with him.”
“I figured you’d like to see him.” I wink at her.
“Mmm… white chocolate mocha. How did you know that was my favorite?”
“Let’s just say I’m a damn good detective.” She studies the writing on the side of the cup, setting it down on the island as she narrows her eyes at me.
“This is exactly how I take my coffee. Non-fat, no whipped cream, extra hot… how did you know that?” I chuckle at her as she looks between her cup and me.
“You left an empty cup in your cup holder in the car the other day. When I went to toss it, I made a mental note of how you liked your coffee.”
She shakes her head and lets out a little laugh. “You’re going to make an excellent detective. I can’t even believe you’re real,” she mutters under her breath in between sips of her coffee. Her hair is piled on top of her head in some sort of messy ponytail, and she doesn’t have a speck of make-up on; however, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as beautiful as s
he looks right now.
“I hope it’s okay that we swung by unannounced?” That reminds me to look for Ollie. I spy him curled into a little ball, lying on the floor in the sun that has found its way in through a large skylight in the living room.
“You don’t ever have to ask to come by. I was just going to clean the house.”
“There’s nothing to clean,” I remark. “This house is immaculate.”
She lets out another laugh. “Hardly, but thank you.”
“Well, we didn’t mean to interrupt your cleaning, but we wanted to stop by and bring you some coffee… and selfishly, I didn’t want to wait until tonight to see you.” She leans in from her stool and presses a kiss to my lips.
“I’m glad you stopped by,” she whispers against my lips.
“I should probably get Ollie back to Mrs. Fitzpatrick anyway.” I say each word in between little kisses.
Pulling back from me, she says, “Let him stay. I’ll bring him back to her later. I hate that he’s cooped up over there and he seems to be comfortable here.” She smiles at Ollie, who is snoring on the floor.
“Are you sure? I didn’t mean to bring you more work.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I like the company.”
“It’s a dog, Reagan.” I laugh at her.
“It’s a dog I happen to like, and it’s lonesome here alone.” She shrugs.
“Okay, we’ll be by to get you at eight tonight.” I stand up and collect my coffee.
“I’ll be ready,” she says, her voice husky.
“Shot gun!” Lindsay yells as we file out the front door to pick up Reagan. I offered to drive, but Matt insisted that tonight was to celebrate, and I was to enjoy myself. I didn’t argue.