Her eyes widen. “You’re going to put Griffin down for a nap?”
I glance over at him and he’s rubbing his face. “Pretty sure I can carry him upstairs and put him in bed.”
“It’s okay,” she bites her lip and looks down at her fingers playing with the buttons on my shirt. “He needs a diaper change and he has to go through this whole thing with his stuffed frog, the right pacifier, and even then, he needs to settle down. He just…”
She’s acting like this is rocket science. “He just what?”
Her hesitant blue eyes angle to mine and she shrugs. “He just needs to be loved on.”
I hike a brow. “Was the lying, backstabbing, bitch of a babysitter able to handle these monumental tasks?”
She tips her head. “Stop it.”
“I did pass the bar, you know.”
She rolls her eyes.
“I didn’t just pass it, I fucking killed it. Twice—in California and here in Texas.”
She tries to hide her smile and slaps me in the chest.
“I can show you my résumé if you’re curious. I mean, I don’t want to come across conceited or anything, but I’ve won some pretty big cases and I am the youngest lead counsel for any corporation—”
“Fine, I get it.” Her expression has completely transformed her beautiful face to one of pure delight compared to her life-is-going-to-end mentality from just a few minutes ago. “Change his diaper, put him to bed, figure it all out on your own. I’m sure your experience in the courtroom has prepared you for dealing with a sleepy almost-one-year-old.”
“I’m already covered in cookie shit and the world is still spinning. What more can happen?”
Her smile shrinks and she leans in to kiss me. “With everything we’ve gone through, I’m afraid to answer that question.”
I drop my hands to cup her ass as I take her mouth and wish we could fuck the day away while Griffin takes a nap but I have a meeting soon I need to call in for. “Do your thing and I’ll take care of him.”
“Good luck,” she murmurs against my mouth and it doesn’t come across with an ounce of sarcasm—she really means it. When she follows it with a breathy, “Thank you,” I know it’s not just about dealing with Griffin so she can sort out her work. It’s about a hell of a lot more—something I’ve tried not to fixate on and just ride whatever wave we’re on to get back to where we should’ve been. To be who we should’ve been together.
25
It’s Always Been You
When you lose something precious and find it again, hold on so tight it’ll never fall from your grasp.
Ellie
Trig kept his word, just like he’s done ever since the day he walked back into my life, and figured out how to put my son down for a nap. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t a challenge and I got to watch and listen to the entire fiasco over the baby monitor. Trig might be skilled in the courtroom but today proved no one can walk into a diaper change of a wiggly baby who moves at the speed of light unprepared for the task.
When Trig couldn’t keep Griffin from rolling on the changing table, he moved to the floor, which wasn’t his best decision. That meant Griffin had more room to move and my son is strong. I watched as Griffin escaped from his captor, time after time, and belly laughed in Trig’s face while doing so.
“You’re a little escape artist, aren’t you?” Trig would grab him by the ankle, drag him back, roll him over, and start all over again. There were some muttered fuck me’s, what the hell’s, and even one dammit, she was right, which shouldn’t have made me smile but it did. He finally yanked the fob to his Mercedes out of his pocket and handed it to Griffin and that did the trick. Griff examined his new toy with such scrutiny, I could see the frown of concentration on his sweet face. When he started chewing on it, I cringed but stayed where I was as Trig was about to figure out the diaper and I was too caught up in the show to worry about germs.
Trig had just tossed the wet diaper to the side without wrapping it up, when Griffin pushed enough buttons on the fob that the Mercedes alarm sang loud and clear in my driveway. Trig was trying to wrestle the fob away from Griffin when it happened.
Trig was officially baptized—his expensive, professionally-tailored dress shirt that was already soiled with dried, mushed cookies got a streak of pee up the front.
I almost ran to his rescue but I was stopped in my tracks when Trig froze right before he smirked at my son. “You might think you’ve won, kid, but I’m the only one who’ll feed you french fries and nuggets in this house. You’ll learn that eventually and cooperate.”
Trig finally won the war—generally speaking. Griffin’s diaper was crooked and I’m not sure it’ll do its job. But Trig didn’t care and unbuttoned his dress shirt, tossing it toward the dirty diaper that lay open on the floor. When he sat back on his ass, he looked a little worse for wear as he stretched out his long legs and leaned against the crib.
That’s where he sits, his head back, and eyes closed in frustration or exhaustion—maybe both. I cringe, regretting my decision to let him go at it alone. My stomach twists and sours with the thought that Griffin and I are too much. The word effort, when it comes to us, isn’t a strong enough term. Not to a man who’s never had to deal with a baby, especially another man’s—a horrible man who’s not even walking the earth anymore, even though that’s a good thing.
And don’t even get me started on my shit. Trig has done nothing but fix my problems since the day he buried his mother.
Griffin scoots around the room in his T-shirt and diaper as Trig sits there, probably meditating my troubles away. My regret brims and it’s too much. I grab the monitor and move on my bare feet up the stairs when I see Griffin reach through the bars of his crib to nab his pacifier and favorite, floppy, well-loved frog.
But I stop in my tracks when Griffin climbs up Trig’s large frame, getting his attention. When my man looks down at my son before hauling him up his big chest where Griffin settles on his shoulder, my worlds crash together in a way that’s both beautiful and painful. The sight of the man my heart has never stopped beating for, loving on the small human I’d lay my life down for, is too much. I sit at the top of the staircase and can’t stop my tears. It’s a shock to my once lonely and broken, mangled soul.
Many minutes pass and I’m pretty sure Trig has a meeting he’s missing but he doesn’t budge. He sits there with his eyes closed as my son falls asleep on his wide chest and shoulder, so deeply, his pacifier goes slack.
I stare at them through my tears and try not to blink. I don’t want to miss even a nanosecond of the tiny picture playing out live in front of me.
Finally, Trig holds my sleeping Griffin with ease, stands, and tucks him in his crib as if he were priceless, reminding me how it felt when he treated me as if I were breakable and the most precious thing in his world when I was seventeen and I gave him my virginity.
Even though I’m watching it on the screen like the most suspenseful motion picture ever, Griffin’s door clicking shut surprises me and I jerk, turning to see Trig standing in the hallway.
He’s holding the dirty diaper and his dirtier dress shirt in one hand when he looks to me and lies, “That was easy.”
I ignore his sarcasm as a place down deep that’s been iced over for ten long years begins to warm.
I set the monitor down and climb to my feet. When I get to him, I rip the diaper and shirt from his hand and let them fall to the carpet. Gripping his belt and waistband, I lift high on my toes and have to reach for his mouth because of the space that separates us. He must feel my need—my desperation—because he cups the back of my head and when I let go of his mouth, I breathe, “I love you.”
He stills before his arms constrict around me. Eyes burning into mine, he murmurs against my lips, “Angel.”
I yank at his undershirt and rip at his belt, words spilling from my lips like a levee bursting into a million pieces. “I never stopped. I had to talk myself into hating you just to get through the
day, but every moment I’ve experienced since I lost you has been about you.”
His blue eyes turn pained, and when I look into them, it’s like looking into a mirror of my soul. Empty, damaged, grief-stricken.
“Stop,” he demands.
I shake my head and fumble with his pants. “I compared everyone to you. If I went somewhere new, I wondered what it would be like if you were there.” Pushing his T-shirt up, he helps, yanking it over his head, and when I see his beautiful face again, I admit what has haunted me the most. “And after I had Griffin, I’d cry for hours at a time, silently wishing he were yours.”
Trig’s face falls and he grips my hips, hauling me to his body, holding me tight. “Fuck.”
I hold on, gripping his smooth skin over hard muscle with everything I have. “Everyone thought I had postpartum depression. My parents moved me back to the ranch for a few weeks so they could help and I wasn’t by myself with Griffin. They took over and I let them. I could barely look at Robert.”
I rip off my tank and push down my joggers, needing to be as close to Trig as possible, and he can tell. Or maybe he needs the same from me. Either way, he doesn’t hesitate, yanking my bralette over my head right here where we’re standing in the hall.
All the words, all the feelings I’ve kept to myself or denied for what feels like an eternity, flow. “I hated that Griffin was his. I hated that every time I looked at my son, I would think about the child we lost. Was it a boy or a girl? Would it be fair like me or dark like you?”
“Shit, baby. Stop.” He lifts me and I wrap my legs around him, pressing my naked body to his. If I could crawl into his skin and stay there forever, I would. He turns and walks us into the room across the hall, puts a knee to the floor, and follows me down, pressing my bare back to the carpet. “The guilt has dug deep and lived inside me. Should’ve stopped you from going to my dad’s property. Could’ve taken your fucking phone calls. Read a damn text. They haunt me, every single one of them.” He frames the side of my face with his big hand and I see nothing but Trig. “There’s not a day that goes by I don’t think about our baby. Every-fucking-day for ten years. And I never stopped loving you. I know it now because it never stopped hurting. I’m shit at changing diapers, but Griffin is a part of you and that makes him mine, just like you are.”
His words sink into me, settling into my bones and I feel right for the first time in what feels like forever. I wrap my naked body around his. “You love us.”
He’s in the process of freeing his cock and takes no time. He needs me as much as I need him—to be close, connected, and reunited. Will our desperation ever fade?
I hope not. He thrusts inside, warming my heart.
As his lips play on mine, he murmurs, “Fuck, yes, I do.” He pulls out and thrusts back in and I arch my back to meet him. “Love you in a way I’ll never stop, Ellie.”
As our bodies tangle and join, frantic as two lost drifters in the desert longing for water, there’s nothing else to think about besides each other. Trig’s body moves with such force, fucking away the last decade from our hearts. We’re not opening a new chapter, but starting a brand-new book.
I dig my heels into his ass and thighs, doing everything I can to make him stay forever, deep inside me where he belongs. No one’s going to mess with our future this time. We’ve lost too much to allow it to happen again.
My breathing shallows and my head falls back, Trig’s lips hit my neck where he sucks and nips at my skin. His assault quickens and his every muscle tenses under my touch when I fall over the edge and fight for air, the orgasm wracking my body making my brain forget to tell my lungs to breathe.
Trig follows, his orgasm chasing mine like a dream that’s been freed from the recesses of my heart. He groans as he thrusts so deep—like me—he can’t get close enough. His breath is hot on my face, his skin hotter against mine as he stays planted inside, not making a move to pull out.
I put my lips to his shoulder and run my tongue along his skin. We lay like this, my back rubbed sore against the carpet and Trig’s heavy body swallowing mine.
“Fucking missed you,” he breathes. “When will that go away?”
I shake my head. “Maybe never? Hearts can’t break if they haven’t loved. We might never recover from that.”
He leans up on his forearms and presses into me again, reminding me he’s inside me, as bare as the day he was born, and neither of us seem to care. Kissing me, he traces my bottom lip with his tongue. “Then I hope we don’t. Love you more now than I ever thought I could.”
I give him a small smile. “You forgot about your meeting.”
He doesn’t make a move to get off me. “Yeah, I did.”
My smile grows bigger. “You also forgot the condom.”
“So did you,” he quips. “You practically attacked me, what was I supposed to do?”
He’s right. “Watching you love on my son made me lose control.”
One of his hands drops to my body, feeling and squeezing its way down until landing on the back of my knee where he hikes my leg as high as he can—which is pretty damn high since I’m as limber as a wet noodle. “It couldn’t have been me changing his diaper, that’s for sure.”
I shake my head and smile. “No. It wasn’t that.”
He doesn’t return my smile. “What you said … kills me. I didn’t know I could be cut deeper, but that did it.”
“I just…” I trail off because I don’t know how to describe it. “I didn’t tell you to make you feel worse. I just need you to know. We might’ve been torn apart but it’s always been you.”
He shakes his head and presses into me where, I swear, his cock is fully erect and hard again. “Love you, baby. With every-fucking-thing that I am.”
I’m not sure my broken heart will ever be put back together the way it was when I first fell into deep, lusty young love with Easton—Trigger—Barrett, but today it was mended. And if it never looks the same as it did back then, I’m okay with that.
Because, today, I’m deeper and more crazy in love than ever.
* * *
Trig
“I had no idea your mom was this much of a pack rat. Are you that way, too?”
I look back at the woman I’m having unprotected sex with, a fact I’m completely happy about. “No, I’m not. Besides a closet full of suits, my work-out equipment, and my bed, I don’t need much else. I work and workout and then work more.”
We’re back at my mom’s, Griffin is in bed for the night, and we’re tackling the storage room again. After my first experience with diapers this afternoon, Ellie said she didn’t want me to have nightmares, so she got him ready for bed and down in about two-point-seven-five seconds compared to me. I need to work on that, especially considering the unprotected sex because I have no desire to go back to condoms. Ever.
Ellie turns to the walk-in closet she’s dug to the back of, but that’s not saying much because the closet might be almost empty, but now we can barely walk through the room thanks to my mom’s shit.
“When will it go on the market?” she asks. I stop stacking boxes and turn to her, crossing my arms. When I don’t say anything, she appears at the doorway. “What?”
“I’m not putting the house on the market. I cancelled the contract with the realtor a few days ago.”
She leans on the doorjamb and mirrors my posture but also hikes one leg and rests the bottom of her foot high on the inside of her other thigh, standing there at ease like she’s floating on a cloud.
I frown. “Is that comfortable?”
She looks down at her body and then back to me. “Yes, why?”
“Because it doesn’t look comfortable.”
“Then don’t stand like this.” She rolls her eyes. “Why aren’t you selling?”
I look around the room. “You think it’s too small?”
She tips her head. “What are you talking about?”
“The lot is big enough. We can add another garage and build up if we need
to, even a pool someday. Maybe add a small guesthouse, I can make it a gym. But I was also thinking, you’ve still got extra room upstairs at your studio. We could add a gym there and then Eli and his guys could use it, too. I just know I hate your house and my condo is three-stories and only has two bedrooms—it’s not good for Griffin with all the stairs.”
She drops her foot to the floor, hugs herself tighter, and whispers, “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I don’t give a shit what we can afford. I don’t want a fucking mansion or a two-thousand-acre ranch. My condo is too small but I don’t want a house so big we’ll ramble around and never see each other. I’ve spent too many years away from you. If we’re not in the same room, I want to know you’re near or listen to you chattering away with Griffin. He seems to be comfortable here. There’s room for more and they’ll grow up close.”
She doesn’t take her eyes off mine. “I love it here.”
“So do I.”
“And I love that we have memories of your mom here.”
“I agree.”
“There’s room for more?”
I narrow my eyes. “Fucked you this afternoon with nothing between us and you didn’t complain.”
She shakes her head. “No, I didn’t. I guess we’re on the fast track, huh?”
“Aren’t we always?”
She leans her head on the door frame, a mix of happy and reflective. “We are.”
I hold out my hand. “Come here.”
Not hesitating, she pushes off the door and walks straight into my arms. “This house is perfect. It’s already home.”
I put my lips to the top of her head. “My mom, she knew what she was doing by keeping you close.”
Broken Halo: The Montgomery Series, Book 2 Page 24