Keeping Score

by Violet Paige

  “So fucking beautiful.” I breathed.

  My palm rested on her stomach.

  “I can’t believe you’re having my baby. Our baby.” I looked into her eyes.

  She nodded. “I am. We’re going to have a baby.”

  “You have never looked so fucking sexy ever. And it’s killing me. You know that.”

  “I know. I want you too. I want you like this. We’re getting married. We’re having a baby.” She pulled my hand to her lips, kissing my fingertips.

  I groaned. “Did you ever think we’d end up here?”

  “No. Honestly never.”

  I wanted to shred that plaid robe from her and take her now. Love her like she deserved. Fill her with pleasure and joy. Give her the most incredible fucking Christmas of her life.

  “Think he’ll notice if we’re gone a few more minutes?” I waggled my eyebrows.

  She sighed. “Yes. Delayed gratification is going to have to be your aphrodisiac today,” she teased.

  “It’s going to kill me,” I groaned.

  She held up the rock on her hand. “We have time, right?”

  “We do. We have the rest of our lives.”

  “Merry Christmas.” She leaned into me and I devoured her lips as if they were made from pure honey.

  “Merry Christmas.”

  I don’t know how it happened. How a guy like me. A guy who made every wrong decision at every turn. Ended up with this perfect woman. With a son. With a baby on the way. But I did. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to screw it up.

  Ever.

  Ten months later

  The alarm beeped. I rolled over. I had practice in two hours. Before I could turn it off I saw the lights on the monitor started to flash. Oh shit. I hurled myself toward it to silence the noise before Julie moved.

  I sighed. Close one.

  I stepped one foot on the floor, and eased my heavy frame out of bed. She had wicked mother instincts. If I didn’t get to Frannie’s room quickly, the crying would wake up my wife with or without the help of the monitor.

  I tiptoed out of our room and crept along the hall to the nursery. I opened the door.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered to my daughter.

  Daughter. I laughed. I never thought I would be a man with a kid, let alone two.

  I scooped her soft tiny frame into my giant hands and held her against my bare chest.

  “You can’t cry like that, sweet pea. You’re going to wake Mommy, and she was up all night with you.”

  I tried to hush the fussy baby, pacing the room, and cradling her close. Julie had only started putting Frannie in the nursery the last few nights. I wanted our bedroom back. No offense to the new princess of the house, but there was something that seemed to zap the sexual energy right out of Julie when she rolled over and saw our daughter. The move was necessary.

  But it meant a longer walk down the hall. And it meant Julie and Frannie were getting less sleep. I wanted to help where I could.

  I made another circle around the room.

  “Don’t you want to sleep? Maybe you want to go to practice with Daddy?” I teased.

  “No way.”

  I stopped on the fuzzy rug and looked up. Julie was in the doorway.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

  She smiled and walked toward us.

  “Long enough to know I have the sweetest husband in the world.” She reached to take Frannie from me. “But this baby is not going to Sharks practice.”

  I chuckled. “That was a joke, babe. A joke.”

  Frannie’s eyes closed as soon as she felt the softness of Julie’s skin. It was like watching magic work. I never had that kind of touch with the baby, but I sure tried like hell.

  “I know,” she whispered. She lowered Frannie into the crib. “I’m so tired. Maybe I should go to practice with you so I can get some sleep.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  I held her hand and pulled her into the hall, closing the door gently.

  Her arms wrapped around my waist and I felt the silkiness of her cheek press into my chest.

  “No one told me newborns were so exhausting. Everyone said she’d be beautiful and cute.”

  “She is, babe. She’s perfect.” I tipped her chin toward me. I saw the fatigue in her sapphire eyes.

  Julie sighed. “Perfectly exhausting.”

  “Come on. I know what you need.” I lifted her into my arms.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered sharply.

  I crept passed Hunter’s room. The kid was sleeping longer and longer. The new baby was taking her toll on all of us. The door was closed. I hoped he got a few more hours this morning. I pushed the bedroom door open and lowered my wife to the sheets.

  I walked around to the other side of the bed and unplugged the baby monitor.

  “Wait. What are you doing, Hawk?”

  “I’m taking care of the kids. I’ve got breakfast. I’ll get Hunter to school. I’ll take Frannie with us and then she’s going to your dad’s for a while so you can sleep.”

  “No,” she whined. “I can do this.”

  I kissed her slowly, pressing her back to the bed. “Babe, I know you can do it, but there’s something you’ve known about me since that first night we’ve met, that you just haven’t been able to accept.”

  She pinched her pretty lips together. “And what is that?”

  “I always get what I want.”

  “You want baby duty?” she questioned.

  “I want a happy rested wife. I want to do something for you.”

  “But—”

  I reached under the sheet, cupping her full breasts. She moaned. “Ohh, Hawk.”

  “I’m also hiring a babysitter and taking you out tonight.”

  “No. What?” Her eyes flew open.

  My hands moved under the sheet, sliding her panties out of the way. She whimpered when I massaged her clit.

  “I’m taking my hot wife out to dinner. Then I’m bringing her home and we’re going to finish a bottle of wine together and we’re going to play with every sex toy we’ve bought over the past year until there’s nothing new to try.” Damn. I was already hard just thinking about it.

  She nodded. Her hand landed on my wrist, guiding me between her legs.

  “If you say so,” she whispered.

  “I do. So enjoy your morning sleeping in. Enjoy your afternoon. And tonight, we can enjoy our anniversary.”

  “Anniversary?” she croaked.

  I stood back from the bed, grinning. It didn’t happen often, but when it did I felt like a fucking champion. I remembered something Julie didn’t. A snippet of our life. Frankly, it was the fucking night that changed my life forever.

  “The night we met.” I laughed.

  “Oh my God. I can’t…”

  I kissed her on the cheek, carrying the baby monitor under my arm. She sank onto the pillow and watched me grab my clothes from the closet.

  “It’s ok. We’ll celebrate all night. I promise.”

  “Hawk?”

  She pulled the sheet to her chin.

  I stopped at the door. “What is it?”

  “I love you. So much. Do you know that?”

  I smiled. “I love you too, babe. I’ve got Frannie and Hunter. Get some rest. You’re going to need it.” I winked and closed the door behind me.

  I made a pot of coffee and plugged the monitor into the kitchen outlet. Frannie was asleep. I hadn’t heard Hunter stir. This was my life now. My perfect life. My unexpected life.

  It was a rock star’s life. A quarterback’s life. A dad’s life.

  My life.

  And I loved every second of it. I wouldn’t change any of it. As long as I had Julie and the kids, I knew I’d be a happy man, and nothing else mattered.

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  Sneak Peek!

  His fingers curled around mine. Tight and strong as
if he was offering to let me siphon his strength. If we could hold on a little longer this would be over.

  Over.

  It was a word that had fractured us before. Now, it was more threatening and severe. A finality I hadn’t been willing to face. Not when he slipped out of my life. Not when darkness consumed me. Not when I struggled to carry on. Not when everything barricaded my next step.

  He squeezed again. I looked down at the way our fingers threaded through each other’s. It was as if they belonged that way, tangled and meshed. As if they fit together. As if they had never held any other hands but these.

  Maybe he clasped with such a fierce grip to siphon my strength. He needed me as deeply as I always had needed him.

  Was that our connection? Had it always been? Was it give and take? Need ingrained with want? Or something so consuming we drained each other?

  The suitcases and crates rattled across from us. We were wedged in a corner. Our backs against the metal cavern. Our feet tucked under us in an awkward position. I was grateful I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t want it to be like this.

  I lifted my eyes to AJ.

  There was no explanation for why he was here now. For how we had collided in this cruel joke. It almost didn’t matter. I had gotten past the shock. Enough to realize we weren’t going to have a happy ending.

  “I’m sorry, Syd.” The words sounded bitter and full of regret.

  I nodded. I didn’t think I could put it into a sentence. “I know,” I whispered. “I know.”

  “I should have told you sooner. I should have—”

  I stopped him. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “If only I had—”

  “No,” I snapped. “Just no.”

  “I haven’t given up,” he replied.

  “And if I have?”

  The only light came from a crack under the door. Our ankles were bound with zip ties. Any movement and they pinched together, cutting into my tender skin. The blood had seeped through my jeans. A few droplets oozed into my shoe.

  My head pounded. The cut over AJ’s left eye looked vicious. He needed stitches. I knew the skin over his brow was thin, and the bleeding was naturally worse in that area, but it looked like something out of slasher film. For the time being it had crusted over enough to keep the blood from running into his eye.

  That was how I was measuring our wins down here. The breaths I could still take. The beats my heart could still make. The pain my body still felt.

  Pain was good.

  Pain meant we hadn’t died.

  Yet.

  24 hours earlier

  My eyes opened, and for a second I forgot where I was. It was my third trip in less than two months. I stared at the ceiling. It was nondescript and bland like all the other hotels. I closed my eyes again. Dallas. I was in Dallas.

  The twinge of pain at my temple reminded me of the two margaritas I’d drank last night at the hotel’s boutique bar.

  The air conditioning hummed. The room was dark, but I had adjusted to the lack of light enough to identity my surroundings. Sometime during the night I had turned off the TV. I’d fallen asleep watching one of the late shows. The remote still rested on my chest.

  My eyes traveled along the seams where the ceiling met the wall and floated downward. I sat upright when I saw a bulge in the drapes. A wide awkward mass that was planted inside. The remote hit the floor with a clunky thump. My hands immediately went to my throat. I tried to say something, but the words were trapped. It was like one of those sleep paralysis dreams where I couldn’t move, but this time I knew I was fully awake. My mouth was already dry.

  The curtain fluttered and the fear spiked in my veins once more before I could exhale. The panic was replaced by inner embarrassment. A ripple of shame. What was wrong with me?

  It was only the airflow billowing the drapes into a 3D shape. A shape that looked less like a man and more like curtains once I stopped to study it.

  I turned on the lamp next to the bed. I hadn’t relaxed completely. It was absurd to think someone was hiding in my hotel room. I had been on edge the entire trip. I couldn’t sleep.

  I was a night owl by nature, but lately it had felt like a full-blown case of insomnia. It was far worse than catching my second wind at midnight and struggling to wind down. I couldn’t sleep, and when I did I had chilling dreams. Dreams that seemed to linger in the room when I awakened.

  Trying to dampen the insomnia with a few margaritas hadn’t worked either. And truthfully, I wasn’t entirely sure that it hadn’t made it worse. I blamed the tequila for a fitful sleep. That and the email I’d received when I touched down in Dallas. It had been six months since one had popped up in my inbox.

  Long enough for me to almost forget they existed. Almost.

  I shuffled out of bed and walked to the bathroom. It was past ten. Too late to order breakfast room service. I wasn’t in the mood to order off the lunch menu. I would have to pick up coffee on my way out. I thought I remembered seeing a gourmet coffee bar near the reservation desk in the lobby when I checked in last night.

  I pulled my long auburn hair into a bun on top of my head before brushing my teeth. By the time I showered and dressed it was close to eleven. I wiggled into a pair of jeans and pulled on a fitted tank top. Even though summer was over, there was still a trace of my summer tan on the tops of my shoulders.

  I checked over my equipment one more time and repacked it in its case. Each piece had been charged overnight. The settings were configured. All I had to do when I reached my destination was hit record.

  That was probably the most paralyzing and yet freeing part of the project. Once I tapped the record button, everything became real. There was no denying the truth. It was something I had grappled with for six months. When someone told me their story. Revealed their part of the puzzle, I couldn’t undo that. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know just a little bit more. That I understood things a little deeper. That I was one step closer to the truth.

  I heaved the bag over my shoulder and let the door close behind me. The key was tucked in my purse. It was ornate and heavy. A custom relic leftover from the hotel’s history.

  I walked toward the elevator, thinking about my interview today. In some ways I felt as if I knew what I was doing. Like I was a pro at asking questions and hunting down clues. After all, I had a made a living doing just that. Only, it had been in the secret underbelly of the dark net. A place I swore I’d never visit again.

  But each time, I faced more uncertainty. More questions than answers. More doubt. Less hope.

  My neck turned when I heard another door in the corridor open. When I looked, there were only closed doors. God, I was still paranoid from the dream. There was no one there. It was likely there never had been.

  I walked between the elevator doors as they retracted.

  There was one name on my list today. Ethan Howard.

  I knew he was forty-eight and single with two divorces under his belt. There were no kids that I knew of. He worked at a metal plant nearby. He was a Cowboys fan and a weekend hunter. It was easy to put together a small profile from his social media, but he didn’t post often. Just enough to stay relevant. Just enough for me to know a few things about him.

  So far I hadn’t been able to make contact with him. He never answered the cell I had dug up for him. He didn’t respond to emails. I restricted myself to certain channels. I was reformed. No more hacking. No more stealing information. I stayed on course, even when it went against all my instincts.

  I knew there was an easier way. Staying off the back channels of the net for a hacker was like an alcoholic staying away from the mini-bar in the hotel. I ignored the twitch in my fingers every time I went online. I wanted my story to be authentic. I wanted to prove I was worthy of the truth. I couldn’t do that if I stole the answers.

  I had parked the rental car in the private garage adjacent to the hotel. Parking in downtown Dallas was scarce. I could Uber or use a car service, but I liked having my own
car, even when I didn’t know my way around the city.

  After a few minutes the car was cool and I was headed toward Arlington. The address I had for Ethan was only fifteen minutes out.

  When I pulled in the driveway I did what I always did. I pushed out the hope. I squeezed it far down until it wasn’t there anymore. I trained myself to stop having expectations. I trained to stay objective, even though this was the most personal assignment of my life.

  I stepped out of the car and reached for the microphone and recorder. It was my traveling set. Light. Compact. Simple.

  I cleared my throat before I flipped the switch to on.

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