Sticks & Stones

by Rachael Brownell

  “I’m going to run to the house and grab a few things. Do you want me to get you anything to eat?” Tyler asks after we watch them roll her out of the room.

  “Anything is better than what they tried to get me to eat for lunch,” I reply, my stomach growling on cue.

  Curling into the covers, I watch as Tyler leaves me. The room is silent for the first time in hours. I’m alone with only my thoughts. Maybe sleep is a good idea. I’m sure our little bundle of joy is going to keep me up most nights for a while.

  “Reese!” Ireland exclaims, just as I’m about to drift off to la-la land. Her timing is always impeccable.

  “Hey,” I reply, pushing myself up into a sitting position, readjusting until I’m comfortable.

  “Where is she?” she asks, looking around as if she’s lost.

  “With the doctors.”

  “Is she okay?” she asks, but before I can answer, she firing question after question. “Tyler said she was perfect. Why is she with the doctor? Was he wrong? Did something change in the last hour? Where’s Tyler? Is he with her, too?”

  “Ireland!” I yell, interrupting her so she can take a much-needed breath. “She’s fine. It’s standard. They need to check her out and then she’ll be back. You can wait if you want.”

  “Okay. Can I get you anything while I wait?”

  “No. Tyler is bringing me food. I think I’m going to try and sleep for a few minutes while we wait.”

  “I’ll just be over here, quiet as a mouse,” she says, motioning to the chair closest to the window.

  Doing the best I can to find a comfortable position, I’m almost asleep when the door opens again, quieter this time. All I hear is the soft coos of my little girl. Time to sit up again. This is exhausting.

  The nurse brings her over and gently places her in my lap. As she begins to explain nursing, and the different techniques, in walks Tyler with my food. I space out for a minute, the smell of greasy fries my only focus. Ireland gently nudges me, bringing my attention back to what’s important.

  Moving her into the “football” position as the nurse called it, my sweet pea attempts to latch on. It takes a few tries for her to get it. She’s already making the sucking motion which causes me to laugh. After a few minutes, it looks like she’s fallen asleep, but when I attempt to move her, she starts sucking again. This happens a few times before she’s finally fast asleep and Tyler takes her, placing her in her crib.

  “You know, we should probably name her,” he says as he stares down at our beautiful daughter.

  “Yes. Right after I eat. Can you hand me that bag, please?”

  Tossing the bag of greasy food in my direction, Ireland shakes her head at my comment.

  “Have you decided on a name yet?”

  “No,” I reply, shoving three French fries in my mouth.

  “She doesn’t like anything I suggest,” Tyler says, taking a seat next to the bed, reaching for my fries. I slap his hand as he picks one up, but he doesn’t drop it. Instead, he feeds it to me while he steals two for himself with his other hand.

  “Can’t you two decide on anything these days?” Ireland says in disgust.

  Sure we can, just not the important things. Like a title for our relationship. Or a name for our daughter. Or if we’re actually living together. Whose last name our little girl should have. Whose last name I should have.

  It’s all up in the air.

  If you ask Tyler, we’re dating, living together, and our daughter should be named Sarah Small. If you ask me, we’re still deciding what we are to each other, he stays over but isn’t living with me, and our daughter should have Kennedy as her last name. We’re not married, even though he’s asked me ten times in the last eleven days. He hasn’t asked today, but it’s not over yet.

  “Is there a compromise that you can make so she doesn’t leave here as ‘baby girl Kennedy’ like her hospital bracelet says?” Ireland asks.

  Looking to Tyler, he shrugs his shoulders. He’s standing firm on her taking his last name. I understand why, and I’m okay with it. She’s going to know her father, no matter what happens between us. It only makes sense for her to take his last name.

  “I hate the name Sarah, but she can have your last name.”

  The moment the light bulb goes off, I see it in his eyes. The same eyes he shares with our daughter. “What about Kennedy Small?”

  “I love that,” Ireland chimes in. Turning our heads in her direction, Ireland shrinks in her chair a little, realizing she wasn’t a part of the conversation anymore. “Sorry.”

  “I like it, too,” I say. “But, that’s going to be weird calling her Kennedy when people call me that all day long.”

  “You could always change your last name. Reese Small has a nice ring to it. And… I happen to have a ring that you could wear to make the change official.”

  “Funny, Tyler.” Rolling my eyes at him, I reach for more fries, shoving them in my mouth to keep from answering him. I haven’t told him no, but I haven’t said yes either. He knows this–I think that’s why he keeps asking day after day. He wants an answer.

  “Is that a yes?” he asks, stealing the last of my fries.

  “You ate all my fries,” I accuse.

  “No, you ate all your fries. I ate the last fry.” As if knowing one order wouldn’t be enough, Tyler produces another brown bag, shaking it gently so I can hear the fries moving around inside. “If you answer me I might be willing to share what’s in the bag with you.”

  “Tease!”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  “What if I’m not ready to answer you?”

  “I think you are. After all we’ve been through and overcome, I think you know what you want.”

  His eyes meet mine. They have a silent conversation of their own. Marriage is a big step. For me, it something that’s sacred. Once you say “I do” there’s no going back. You work to make it work. You never give up.

  “If you’re so sure, what’s my answer?”

  “That I do not know. I could guess, but I hate to be wrong.” Relaxing back into his chair, Tyler reaches in his mystery bag and pulls out a handful of fries, forcing them all into his mouth at once. It’s not a sexual act, but if you judged me by the way I’m staring at him as he eats those fries, you would think it was.

  The problem is, I want to marry Tyler. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I’m just not sure if it’s the right decision. Was he only asking because he knocked me up? Does he really love me? He tries to prove it to me every day, and I believe he thinks he loves me, but there’s an annoying little voice in the back of my head that makes me reconsider.

  If I asked him, he would tell me he does. If I ask anyone, they would tell me he does. I’m the only one who isn’t certain. My opinion is the only one that matters, though. I have to believe it or it doesn’t matter how he feels about me. This decision doesn’t affect only me. It affects our daughter, too.

  My parents have been happily married for over thirty years. When my father looks at my mother, you can still see the love he has for her. I want that. I want to be in love with someone so much that other people can see it when I look at my husband. And vice versa.

  “Kennedy Small,” I finally say. “I like it if you do. It suits her, I think.”

  “Are you changing the subject again?” he asks, waving fries under my nose.

  “I am, but only for the moment. I will answer you, Tyler. Not today, but by the time we go home. Deal?”

  “I can wait another twenty-four hours,” he replies smugly.

  That’s all the time I have before they send us home? I figured I would be here a few days, maybe a week. I can’t believe they let you pop out a kid and send you on your way so fast. That doesn’t seem fair. What if I have questions? I read the damn book, but I don’t remember every word of it.

  Twenty-four hours and I not only have to be ready to take care of my daughter, but I also have to have an answer for Tyler. I have to decide what the
rest of my life holds. I’m not ready–for any of it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Tyler

  Kennedy is perfect. All night long she softly cooed. When I would pick her up, she made a sucking motion with her lips. It was cute, the first few times. The fourth time I woke up Reese to feed her I actually felt bad. She was happy to get up, but I could tell it was wearing her out, the up and down all the time. I’m not sure how much sleep she’s actually had.

  The doctor’s working on discharge papers for both of them right now. Reese is nervous, checking over the baby’s car seat twice, making sure she’s latched in properly. They made each us of prove we knew the proper way to use the damn thing. Now, Reese is obsessing. Kennedy is sleeping through it all.

  “All right. You are both free to go,” the nurse declares as she walks back in the room with a packet of papers. Handing them to me when Reese doesn’t bother to acknowledge her presence, she tilts her head in Reese’s direction.

  “She’s obsessing,” I say, a little louder than necessary.

  “No I’m not. I’m making sure she’s safe.” Her defenses are up.

  I know she’s worried she’s not ready for this, but I have faith in her. She’s going to be a great mother. Sure, she’ll make mistakes, we both will, but we’ll get through this. Together.

  “You made sure she was safe ten minutes ago. It’s time to go, Reese. Want me to carry her?” I ask, reaching for the car seat.

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll grab the bag then,” she replies, rushing around the room, looking for her bag. The same bag I took down to the car over an hour ago.

  “It’s in the car, babe.” Placing my hand on her shoulder, Reese stops but doesn’t turn to face me. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she replies quickly.

  “Liar. I thought we both agreed no more lies.”

  “I’m not ready yet,” she finally admits.

  “To go home?” I ask, knowing the answer to my own question.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why not? You’re exhausted. I’m sure sleeping in your own bed sounds good right about now,” I tease. All morning long she complained how uncomfortable the hospital bed was. She needs a nap in her own bed. Stat.

  “It does.”

  “Then what’s really going on?” I ask when she still doesn’t turn to face me. Her attention is focused out the window. All I can see is clear, blue skies.

  “Yes,” she whispers.

  “Yes, what?” I ask before I realize what she’s saying.

  “Yes, I’ll marry you, Tyler.”

  “And you’re not ready for…” I need her to say it.

  “I’m not ready to admit it to myself,” she mutters, lowering her head to her chest.

  “That you love me?”

  “No, that you love me. It’s easier to believe that you don’t, that the only reason you’re with me is because of Kennedy.”

  Turning her around to face me, I lift her chin when she won’t meet my eyes. She needs to see that I mean what I’m about to say. She needs to believe that I’m not lying to her.

  “That’s never been the reason, and you know that. Why is it so hard to believe that someone could love you? You’re an amazing person, Reese. And beautiful. And kind. Caring. Hardworking. Lovable. Determined. Stubborn.”

  “Okay. I get the picture,” she laughs, glancing past me to where our daughter is sleeping soundly in her car seat. “I don’t need a list of my good and bad qualities.”

  “Bad qualities? What bad qualities? I love everything about you.”

  Directing her attention back to me, I see exactly what I’m looking for in her eye. Love. I’ve seen it before, but it’s been a while since it’s shone this bright. Right now it’s brighter than I’ve ever seen it.

  “Well, aren’t you just the perfect human being?” she quips. Deflection is her way of keeping herself guarded these days. That ends now. No more.

  “Thank you. Now, are you ready to go home, Mrs. Reese Small-to-be?”

  “Ha, ha. Yes, let’s go home.”

  Finally. She’s mine. She’s been mine for almost a year now, but she’s never admitted it. I want to shout it from the rooftops. Maybe take out a billboard to announce it to the entire city of Denver. Reese Kennedy is taken. Mine.

  That might be a little over the top.

  Nah! Go big or go home, right?

  About the Author

  Rachael Brownell is an award-winning author of both young-adult and new-adult romance. She resides in the midwest with her husband, son and their fur-babies. To learn more about Rachael and her books, follow her on social media or sign up for her monthly newsletter.

  For more information…

  www.AuthorRachaelBrownell.com

  rachaelbrownell@mail.com

  Also by Rachael Brownell

  Holding On (Holding On series book 1)

  Unglued (Holding On series book 2)

  Weakness (Holding On series book 3)

  Flawed Reality (Holding On series book 4)

  A Secret Life

  Secrets & Lies

  Dark Bishop

  Lucky 13

  Jumping Puddles

  Saving Bliss

  Chasing Fate

  Coming Soon

  Losing Chelsea (a Saving Bliss novella)