by Olivia Chase
Right there. I’m bathing in it. All his walls are dropped down at this moment between us, and I can see everything he’s feeling.
When he finishes, his body relaxes. He doesn’t pull out but lowers my legs and rolls us to our side. I drape my thigh on his hip. Enjoy the sweet decadence of this gorgeous man’s naked body pressed to mine.
He finally disposes of the condom, cleans up, then comes right back to my side. Wraps me in his arms. We fall asleep that way, curled against each other. My favorite place to be.
My stomach is a writhing mess. I sit beside Jax in the car in the driveway, staring at my parents’ front door. I feel like I want to puke all over the place.
“Hey, you okay? I’m getting worried about you,” Jax says, a frown marring his face. “Are you that concerned about your parents?”
The drive here was trouble-free and smooth. But I wasn’t able to relax and enjoy it, despite Jax making a special road trip mix for us—a sweet gesture that warmed me. The whole eight hours, worries filled my mind and I struggled with how to find the courage to talk to him about it.
He grips my clammy hand. “Talk to me. If you want to turn around and head back, we can. Though I could use some sleep—”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. Oh shit, this wasn’t how I wanted to say it. I gather my courage and look him in the eyes.
His mouth is a wide O and he’s staring at me.
“Um.” I clear my throat. “I…I’ve been sick the last several mornings, and I realized my period was overdue, so I snuck out and got a pregnancy test, but I didn’t have the balls to take it until this morning, and it came back positive.” I suck in a breath to feed my starving lungs. “I’m sorry. I…know this is a shock for you.”
“I’m going to be a dad.” The words are quietly delivered.
I nod. “I mean…assuming you want to keep it.”
“Of course we’re keeping it.” Jax’s brows draw together and he stares hard at me. I can’t read his face. Then the realization of it all hits him, and his eyes widen with wonder. “Oh my God. I’m going to be a dad.”
Hot tears prick the backs of my eyes. “Are you okay with this?”
“How did it happen?” I can see him doing mental math.
“It wasn’t that night on the car. I already did the same math. Had to have been another time we had sex.” A flush rises up my throat. “I should have been on the pill to protect against this.”
His hand reaches out, and I see it’s shaking. He touches my face. “Oh God, this is really happening.” Then he leans over and presses the softest kiss to my mouth, and my heart erupts in another surge of love for him.
“You’re not mad?”
Jax pulls back and looks at me in confusion. “Why would I be? It’s not like you got into this alone.” He grips my fingers, which are still cold, and rubs them. “We’re already going to get married. This is just going to…change our timeline a bit. But we’ll make it work.”
“I think I’m due sometime in January,” I tell him. “So maybe I can take the spring semester off school to raise the baby and start again next fall.”
The baby.
Shit, I’m having a baby. A real baby.
Jax reaches his hand down to cup my lower belly. “Are you feeling okay?” Concern is clear all over his face. “We’re getting you into the doctor as soon as you get home. And no more long hours at the bar—I know you’re trying to help, but you need to rest.”
I can’t help but laugh. He’s already moving into protective mode. My sweet man.
The front door opens, and my sister is standing there, eyeing us both with a raised brow. No doubt she’s wondering why we’re just sitting in the car.
“Time to go in and face the firing squad,” I joke.
***
The first hour or so of our visit, things are kind of awkward. Despite my mom regretting how our earlier lunch went, she’s still unsure how to act. When Dad takes Jax into the living room to show off baby pictures of us, and Mom’s in the kitchen finishing up dinner, Della pulls me aside in the bathroom.
“He seems different,” she says to me in a conspiratorial tone. “I don’t know why, but that wild edge to him is gone.”
I can’t stop looking at her through a new light, knowing that I’m pregnant, knowing that she went through this on her own. It makes me feel a rush of admiration for her even more. I reach over and give her a big hug, my eyes filling with tears. God, I’m barely pregnant and I’m already a hormonal mess.
“Whoa,” she says with a laugh, patting my back. “You okay?”
I sniffle and pull away, grabbing toilet paper to blow my nose. “Yeah, sorry.” We decided in the car that we’d wait to tell about the pregnancy for a little while, at least until I get into the doctor and make sure everything is okay. Besides, the news of our engagement is going to be enough of a shock for this visit.
We emerge from the bathroom to find Mom setting the table. I help her finish up, and we take our seats.
Jax sits on my left, and he reaches down and takes my hand, squeezes it. The gesture reminds me we’re a team and we can do this together. God, I love this man. “I got off on the wrong foot with you guys,” he says, his usual straightforward self. “I don’t blame you for your reaction. But I need to tell you that I love your daughter. I love her with everything in me. And I’m going to stay by her side.”
“Guys, we’re engaged,” I tell them, trying not to cringe in fear of their reaction.
There’s silence for a moment. Then, Della squeals. “Oh my God, seriously? Let me see the ring,” she demands.
I laugh. “Oh, no, we didn’t get one—”
“Actually, I wanted to wait until we were here to give it to you,” Jax says beside me, and I turn my head to look at him in confusion. On the table between us sits a black velvet box.
My heart surges to my throat, and I swallow hard. “What…is this?”
Mom says in her usual brusque tone, “Open it up, Brooklyn.” I turn to look at her but can’t tell what she’s feeling.
I crack the box open and see a rich green emerald with a white-gold band.
“I know it’s not a traditional diamond, but this reminded me of your eyes.” Jax takes the ring out and slides it on my finger.
“It fits,” I say in wonder.
“Hey, I do my research.”
“Well,” Dad says, standing up and walking around the table. “Let me congratulate you both.” He reaches out a hand and gives Jax a hearty shake. Then he pulls me into a hug.
“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper against him.
When I pull away, I see Mom standing beside me. A bunch of emotions are flying across her eyes. “I just want you to be happy,” she says.
“I am,” I tell her. “He’s not holding me back. He’s my support system.”
She turns to face Jax. “I’m sorry about your brother. And I’m sorry I blamed you for my daughter’s grades. That wasn’t fair.” She licks her lips. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I’d like the chance for us to.” She reaches up and gives him a hug, then hugs me, too. “Congrats to you both. I want all the best for you. I mean that.”
Cam, who’s in his high chair at the end of the table, begins clapping and laughing. That makes us all spin around and smile with him.
Dinner is a lighter affair. We laugh and talk as we eat. Jax shares stories about his brothers, and my parents chuckle at their adventures. They give kudos to his single dad, and Della opens up about embarrassing stories from my past…just to embarrass me. I reach across the table to slug her.
The whole time, I can’t stop staring at my ring.
“How long have you had this?” I ask him.
“A long time.” He smirks. “It took a lot of strength to wait on giving it to you, especially since I was afraid of losing it.” The inside joke about our first real interaction together makes me chuckle. “But I thought they might want to feel like they’re part of us, too.”
His though
tfulness makes my heart erupt. “You’re the sweetest.”
“Don’t let that get around,” he teases. His gaze drops meaningfully to my belly. “I’m so excited to start a life with you.”
“I am, too,” I tell him.
We eat dessert, then Della busts out an old Jenga set we kept in the basement, and we play. Cam reaches over—he just wants to knock the whole thing down. I give him a block to play with, and he gnaws on it, drooling happily.
When it’s time for bed, Jax heads upstairs. I go to follow him but I’m stopped by my mom’s hand on my arm.
“So, how far along are you?” she drawls.
A hot flush crawls up my throat and across my cheeks. “How…did you know?” I can’t lie to her about it.
She rolls her eyes and laughs. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve had kids and I’ve been around enough pregnant people to have seen what it looks like. Plus, you seem different. Were you going to tell us?”
“Not on this trip,” I say sheepishly. “We didn’t want to overload you.”
“And yet he still wants to marry you.” Her voice is level.
I nod. “He loves me and he’s excited about the baby.”
Mom fixes me with a hard gaze, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “This guy isn’t like Della’s ex. I can tell that just from being around him today. And from the way he looks at you, he thinks you hung the moon.”
A warmth spreads through my chest at her words. “He’s not perfect, I suppose, but he’s perfect for me. Does that make sense?”
She nods and her eyes are glimmering. “Yes. It surely does.”
When she presses a kiss to my brow, my eyes fill with tears. How many times have I cried today? “Go upstairs and get your rest,” she says. “You’re a mommy now. You gotta take care of yourself.”
I shuffle up and strip my clothes off once in my old bedroom. Jax is stretched out on the double bed, eyeing me.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Mom guessed.”
“Fuck. What is she, a womb ninja or something?” He sits up. “Okay, we’ll just have to think of what to do—”
“It’s all okay.” I slide into bed and he wraps his arms around me.
“And you’re sure she’s not pissed off? I mean, she handled the engagement well, but this is a whole other level.”
“Her bark’s worse than her bite,” I say. “And besides, she can tell you’re serious about me. That’s all she needs to know.”
I can feel him relax against me. “Good. I’m just worried for you. I know how important they are to you.”
“You are, too, you know.”
He strokes my cheek and smiles. “Ready for bed, darling? I’m fucking wiped.”
I nod my head, smiling and feeling so happy I could burst.
Jax reaches over to click off the bedside light and resumes his spot, holding me close like always.
His hands slide to my belly protectively and he hugs me even closer, kisses the back of my neck. “It’s better than a dream, isn’t it?” he whispers, just when I think he’s fallen asleep.
I nod my head. “Yes. Better than I ever could’ve imagined.”
“That’s how I feel too,” he murmurs.
A couple of minutes later, his breathing is soft and even, and I realize he’s asleep. But even in sleep, his strong arms are there, as if he means to keep me safe no matter what.
I feel tears start pouring from my eyes, but I’m not embarrassed anymore. Because somehow it all worked out, and I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.
Finally, I feel myself drifting off, more peaceful and relaxed than I’ve been, maybe in my entire life.
We stay that way until morning, two bodies intertwined, hearts connected, a small family about to begin.
THE END
ASHER (The Beckett Boys, Book Three) By Olivia Chase
Asher
I pull into Foley’s Sports Bar and shut off the engine. The parking lot is packed. Outside, a big neon sign advertises happy hour specials, and families pour in and out the door.
My brothers and I used to mock this place and its clientele. A cookie-cutter bar with cookie-cutter big-screen TVs and cookie-cutter food. Blah.
We said we’d never be like them.
Truth be told, lately Outlaws is looking much closer to Foley’s than I’m comfortable with.
But I’m not here to ponder the differences between my family’s bar and Foley’s—I could give a flying fuck.
I’m here for something much bigger than that.
I get out of the car. Whitney might be pissed to see me, but I just gotta convince her to listen. To let me explain why I left her a year ago without saying a word.
It’s not like I’m proud of the way I handled what happened between us that one night. I was a fucking asshole, I know that.
But I’m here to make it right now.
She has to listen.
I push open the doors and head to the bartender, wearing the Foley’s Sports Bar uniform of a tight striped referee shirt and booty shorts. I give her the trademarked Beckett boys grin and turn on the charm full wattage. “Hi. Is Whitney around?”
She looks me up and down. “Never thought I’d see the day when one of you Becketts would come walking through our door.”
Yeah, the longtime feud between our bars isn’t exactly a secret. Bart Foley, the owner of the bar, is an asshat, and even my dad hated him. So I expected a little antagonism from the staff here. At least this girl isn’t threatening to kick me out. That’s promising.
“I know, it’s the coming of the apocalypse.” I laugh.
With a sigh, she points toward the back of the room. “Whitney’s working those tables over there.”
I take my time heading to her section. Savor the anticipation filling me. I haven’t seen her in over a year now, and that crazy rush of longing hits me hard. The same feeling that’s haunted me every night for more than twelve months.
I spot her, bent over a table, talking to a couple and their kids. Her ass is cupped by the small black shorts perfectly, her legs long and curvy. Fuck. My dick stirs at the sight. When she straightens and tucks a strand of dark red hair behind her ear, I can see the swell of her breast pressing against her referee shirt.
The past year has been good to Whitney. Holy fuck. Was she always this hot?
My steps slow as I recall the feel of her body curled against mine. Her breathy sighs caressing my ear. Her fingers digging into my shoulders.
I shake the mental image off and try to focus on the task at hand. First, getting her to talk to me.
Whitney turns around to walk away from the table, a big smile on her face, and then her eyes lock with mine. She gives a little gasp of shock and stops right in place, her eyes wide.
“Hello, Whitney,” I murmur.
“Asher.” The word is said so quietly I almost don’t hear it over the din of voices in the bar. She isn’t moving any closer to me, but she isn’t slapping me or running away, either. Good sign.
“Can we go somewhere and talk for a minute?” I ask.
She frowns and shakes her head slowly. “No. I’m…working. I can’t.”
“When’s your break?” I ask, taking a step closer.
That seems to shake her out of her trance. She starts walking away from me toward the kitchen, and I stay right by her side. “I’m busy. I can’t talk to you.” Her voice is a little shaky, though she’s trying to keep it flat.
My heart gives a painful squeeze at the emotion in her voice. I earned it. I was the fucker who kissed her, almost had sex with her, then ran off in shock and fear. And didn’t talk to her again afterward. I deserve this. But I can’t help but remember how close she and I used to be before all of that happened. The space between us right now might as well be a mile.
I can reach over and touch her arm, but her heart is out of reach.
At least, it is for right now. I’m determined to win her.
“We need to talk. About that ni
ght,” I add.
That gets her to look at me. She straightens her spine, looks dead at me. Her face is a mask. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
I cup her elbow and guide her to the wall, where we can talk for a moment. The softness of her skin brings me right back to that night, her lying under me, me drunk on cheap wine and her kisses. “I think you do. And I want to explain.” I can smell her vanilla scent wafting to me and almost groan. I fucking missed her smell so much.
I missed her.
She has to give me a chance.
“I’m not going away until we talk,” I push, looking down into her eyes. I walked away from her once, and I swore to myself I’d never do that again.
I spent months upon months telling myself that it meant nothing. Then, when I finally accepted I was lying to myself, I spent months thinking about how I wanted it again. I wanted her. What was I willing to do to get her?
Whitney’s cheeks flush a delicate pink as she stares at me. I soak in the sight of her, that small freckle on her right cheekbone, her full lips, the lush hair I once buried my fingers in. “I haven’t seen you since last summer, and now here you are, out of the blue.” There’s a thread of hurt in her voice now, and I’m angry at myself all over again for putting that there.
Before all of that happened between us, we were friends. I miss that as much as I miss her against me.
“Five minutes,” I tell her. I keep my gaze locked on hers, try to find that connection we once had. Everything comes flooding back to me—our goofy inside jokes, the way she snorts when she laughs, the secrets we confessed to each other late at night. I want it again. I want her again. And I won’t fuck it up this time.
After a long pause, she nods. “Let me put in this order and then I can take a break. Meet me out back. Don’t let the boss see you.”
I raise a brow. “I’ll be like a ninja.”
That draws a small smile from her. “Fine, okay. I’ll see you there.”
A small victory, but victory nonetheless. I head out back and lean against the brick of the wall, watching the sun set behind the trees across the street. The sky is streaked in pinks and yellows.