Page 17

HOLT

It’s been a great couple of weeks.

Of course, it would be even greater if she would just move over to the Big House again. Into our room. Into our bed.

But she still hasn’t fully forgiven me. And who the hell can blame her? Certainly not me.

It’s Friday night and I’m supposed to be headed to the bar to meet the guys, but I can’t go until I see her. So, patiently I wait, counting down the seconds until I hear her feet padding down the hallway.

Well, I’m hoping I hear her feet padding down the hallway.

She may not have forgiven me yet, but she’s definitely testing the waters. For the past couple of nights, she’s actually come looking for me, slowly treading her way through the house with a plate of leftover food in her hands, claiming she cooked too much supper for just herself—just like the night after I hurt my shoulder. I’m not exactly sure what the hell happened before I got home that night, or why there was a stick of bread in the hallway, but words couldn’t describe how excited I was to see her sitting at the kitchen island, pretending to ignore me. And then last night, I even convinced her to sit on the couch with me and watch some TV. She agreed, even though it wasn’t an old movie, but a sports documentary. And because she’s Merit, and she’s always curious, she actually asked me a couple of questions about things she didn’t understand.

All of a sudden, my cell phone rings, blaring the sound through the Bluetooth speakers in the gym. Hopping off the weight machine, I glance at the caller ID, surprised when I see the name of my old head coach. I’ve been pretty selective about who I give my new cell number to, but he has it. I mean, Alaina even interviewed him for the TV special to get background on my time in the NFL. He’s been really supportive.

Twenty minutes later, we’re finishing up our conversation when I see Merit’s head peek around the corner of the doorframe. As always, she looks so damn good it nearly splits my heart in half. Her hair is piled in a messy bun, and she’s wearing an old T-shirt, advertising Run and Jump and Twirl . It must be a men’s shirt. Despite the tightness across her stomach, it falls off her shoulder, showcasing the strap of her purple bra. Not to mention, it’s black. I’ve never seen a black T-shirt for her store before. They’re always bright, girly colors. It falls down to the top of her thighs, making it look like she doesn’t have any shorts on. Even though I know she does, a man can still hope, right?

She pretends to step back, pretends to give me privacy, but really, she’s dying to know who I’m talking to. I curl my fingers, begging her to come closer. I’m not sure what she cooked tonight, but it smells freakin’ delicious. My stomach immediately growls.

“Promise me you’ll at least think about it, son. Let me know if you change your mind?” Coach’s gruff voice booms on the other side of the phone.

“Yes, sir. I will.” Hanging up, I toss my cell on the towel next to me and cock an eyebrow in her direction. “Leftovers?” I ask, not even hiding the giddiness in my voice. She has to know it makes me happy to see her. Just the same way I’ve been finding excuse after excuse to keep working on some of the charity stuff with her even though she has it all under control.

She dips the plate in front of my face. “I didn’t feel like cooking tonight. I had a craving.” Every square inch of the grilled chicken, steak, fried rice, and vegetables is drowned in yum yum sauce.

Just the way my son has been wanting it.

I smile. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve taken you out. We could’ve made it a date night.”

She ignores that and just nods her head at the door. “Come on. You better eat before it gets cold.”

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I grab my water bottle and phone and follow her down the hall to the kitchen. “You already ate?”

“Of course. You think I want you to see how much of this I can actually eat? They basically had to load it in my car with a forklift.” Laughing at herself, she rewards me with her signature snort. Damn, how I missed that snort. She grabs me a fork and a napkin and settles next to me at the kitchen island. I count my bites, waiting to see how long it will take her to ask the question.

It takes two.

“So, who was that?”

“Hmm?”

“On the phone. It sounded serious.”

I wipe my mouth. “Well, I guess it kinda was. It was my old coach.”

“What did he want?” She leans forward, and her knee accidentally grazes mine.

“He wants me to be the new quarterback coach for my old team.” I watch her face, waiting for her reaction. “In the NFL.”

Her eyes widen like silver dollars, and the swirls of bright yellow and green darken. “In North Carolina,” she says, her voice squeaking. “He wants you to move back to North Carolina?”

I take another bite. “Yeah.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him no.”

Her words flow out on an exhale, “You told him no?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because of you.”

She stops breathing and just blinks. After a few seconds, she asks, “Because of me?”

“I won’t pick up and move our family. There’s no way I’d take you that far away from your mom and dad and grandma. Not to mention, I’ve gotten used to being back here with my parents. Raylee, the kids, Ridge. I mean, everyone is here. This is our home.” I’m relieved when she doesn’t call me out for assuming I could actually pick up and make her move somewhere.

“That’s it?”

“Well, that’s the main reason. But there’s other things too. I never wanna fall back into the trap of missing out on the fun of the game. I think that would happen if I went back to the NFL. Not to mention, I like teaching the kids.”

She looks down and rubs a possessive hand across her stomach. “I heard the school called and offered you your job back.”

I don’t bother asking how she knows. It’s probably out on the Internet somewhere. “They did.”

“And?”

I take a drink of water, washing my food down, and balance my elbows on the granite countertop. “I don’t know if I can go back to that school.” I shake my head. “They fired me. Everyone thought I was some sick pedophile who preyed on their children. The teachers, the students. The things they said I did…” my voice trails off. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up.

“Not everyone thought you were guilty.”

“I know that. But I don’t wanna walk down the halls and feel like I’m dragging a thousand-pound chain filled with nothing but a painful history. Like some fucked-up Ebenezer Scrooge.”

“It was Jacob Marley.”

My brow furrows. “Huh?”

“It wasn’t Ebenezer Scrooge who dragged the chains; it was Jacob Marley.”

I wipe my hand across my mouth, chuckling. “Jacob Marley, then.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip, and when she finally pops it free from her teeth, the pink, swollen skin pales to white for a nanosecond before flushing with color again.

Talk. About. Distracting.

I lift the ballcap from my head and spin it around backward, trying to pull my mind out of… well, you know. “There’s more offers on the table.”

“Really? From?”

“Well, I got a call from West River just the other day. They offered me the position of head coach and athletic director.”

The high school I did work at is technically zoned for the county. West River is one of four high schools zoned in the city. Like my school—or my old school, I mean—it’s known for high test scores, superb fine arts, and a kick-ass football team. Their last coach left at the end of the school year for a larger school district. He was a huge dick, but he definitely gave my team a run for its money. Not to mention, it’s the school where Nate is going to be attending this year. He’s starting ninth grade, and he’s zoned for West River. Nate’s one hell of a ball player. He’s got it . The it that could take him all the way.

“You would do that to your team? To your boys? Up and leave them like that? You know most of the team supported you, right?” She sits up straight and stabs me with a scowl. “I mean, Carson spent weekend after weekend organizing and working car washes to raise money for your defense. Did you know that?”

Of course, I knew it. And that’s why Carson will never have to worry about his future. Not as long as I’m around. It’s why he got a late acceptance letter to the Georgia Institute of Technology for their aeronautical engineering program. It’s why he’s the first ever recipient of the Brighter Paths Renewable Grant. Funded by an anonymous donor, of course.

One guess who the donor is…

It’s not like I did anything shady.

I mean, Carson has made all A’s ever since sixth grade. He was valedictorian. He did great on his ACT, and he was even president of his class. He got in of his own accord, he just wasn’t going to actually go because of the cost.

Now, he doesn’t have to worry about that.

“Holt, did you hear me?” Merit pushes against my shoulder—fortunately, it’s fully healed from my run-in with the shingles.

I nod.

“So, you’re giving up on them? Just like that?” The look of disgust on her face is overwhelming. “I guess we found your modus operandi, huh?” Her irritated breath sputters from her lungs in short, shallow bursts. “Why do you keep trying to fight for us, then? If it’s that easy, why not give up on us?”

Shock and anger clench my stomach in a death grip. She moves to hop off the barstool, but our son makes her movements more cumbersome than normal. I shift my legs, blocking her. My voice lowers, delivering a truth that is not up for debate. “I’m never giving up on us. Ever. I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

We’re so close.

Mere inches away. I could touch her with my tongue.

Her head falls, and she studies the floor. Her emotions flood around us, turning the air into a tactile, living, breathing organism—anger, hurt, betrayal, frustration.

Love. Desire. Want. Need.

“Move, Holt.”

I don’t obey her command.

Steeling herself, she stares at me head-on. “What do you want me to say, Holt?”

Of course, I tell her the truth. “I want you to say you want me back. I want you to say you love me too. I wanna raise our son. And give him brothers and sisters and a life of happiness that we never even dreamed possible.” I lick my lips, wishing she would fall against me. “I want your body on mine.”

Her lip trembles. “Well, we don’t always get what we want. If we did, you never would’ve thrown me away.”

Pushing against my leg—and I have no choice but to let her—she walks away.

***

It’s still early.

But I couldn’t stay at the bar anymore, knowing she was here. Home.

If she’s at home, I should be too.

I lean against the bedroom doorframe and study the curve of her body in the moonlight—her shoulders, her back, her hips. What I wouldn’t give to slip underneath the covers and pull her tight little ass into the crescent of my own body. Wrap my arms around her stomach and hold her—and our child—until the morning light.

Her sleepy whisper catches me off guard. “How long do you plan on watching me sleep? It’s kinda creepy.” She rolls over, catching me.

I can’t help but chuckle. “Can I get by with a couple of hours before I seem like a freak?”

“No. Freaky status happened the second you opened the door to my side of the house in the middle of the night.”

I shrug. “It’s not the middle of the night. It’s only nine-thirty.”

“Seriously?” She snuggles the comforter up to her chin. “I didn’t even check the clock before going to bed. Sometimes I just get so darn tired.”

I cock an eyebrow, even though she can’t see it. “Was it still light outside when you went to bed?”

“Uh…I’d like to reserve the right to keep that answer to myself. People in Alaska have to sleep when it’s light outside.”

“I didn’t know Alabama and Alaska were so closely related?”

She snorts, giggling as she thinks about a joke in her own head before saying it. “I guess someone didn’t pay attention in geography class.” She waves a flippant hand in my direction. “Jocks. Sheeesh.”

Throwing her a bone, I laugh at her joke.

“So, tomorrow’s the Fourth of July,” I say, stating the obvious.

Merit flops over on her back and stares at the ceiling. “I know.”

“So, that means today is July 3 rd . Nate’s Birthday.”

“I know.”

I click my tongue. “He’s fifteen. That’s a pretty big one.”

“I know.”

“I called him on my way to the bar. Someone sent him a really nice gift. A hand-sewn leather wallet with his initials on it.” I tilt my head to the side. “Any idea who may have done such a thing?”

She wiggles her feet underneath the blankets.

“Mer?”

“I don’t know.”

I roll my eyes. “Even though I can’t see your face right now, I still know you’re lying.” I push off the jamb and take a step closer to the bed. “He loves it. He got his permit today; so needless to say, the wallet is already being put to use.” I study the rise and fall of her rounded stomach as she breathes. “It was a really thoughtful gift.”

She doesn’t say anything.

“Everyone’s coming over tomorrow for the holiday. We’re gonna celebrate his birthday too. Just like normal.”

She wipes at her eye. “I’ll be gone before they get here.”

“I don’t want you gone ; I want you here. Everyone wants to see you. Please stay.”

Her whisper is strained, and it breaks my damn heart. “I can’t.”

“Then, I’ll cancel,” I say simply.

She turns back on her side, watching me. “What? No. You can’t cancel.”

“I can and I will. Because I’m not spending the holiday without you. You and our son, you’re the only ones who matter.” I take another step closer. “We’re a family.”

“You can’t cancel,” she says again. “The kids will be devastated.”

“They’ll understand. I’ll call and explain it to them.”

“Kids don’t understand that kind of thing.”

“Trust me, they know the word asshole . And that’s all I have to tell them—is that everything is messed up because I was a complete and total asshole.”

She’s quiet, taking a moment to think about my declaration.

When I step next to the bed, I expect her to roll over, but she doesn’t. And when I reach down and stroke the side of her cheek, I expect her to flinch, but she doesn’t.

She’s so damn strong.

Little by little, she’s thawing her heart for me.

No matter how painful it must be.

And trust me, I know it is.

I’m the villain in our story. I’m the evil monster hiding in the woods. And yet, she’s still opening the door. She’s peeking outside and daring me to come in.

Her eyes search my face, absorbing every detail she can see through the ribbons of moonlight dancing between the blinds. I love it when she looks at me. She always looks at me like she’s trying to memorize me, trying to count every freckle, trying to remember every laugh line.

“I’ll stay.”

“What?” My hand trails down her neck, and my fingers tangle with hers. It sends a fire through my body. “Are you serious?”

“What you said is right. We’re a family. No matter what happens, we’re having a child together. I meant what I said, I will never take you away from your son. And the same thing applies to your parents, your sister. They deserve to be a part of our child’s life.” She swallows loudly. “I want our child to be surrounded by love. Not anger, not bitterness.” She slides her hand away from mine. “I guess we’ll have to learn the best way to co-parent. We might as well start now.”

Co-parent, my ass. Merit’s going to be my wife. I’m never leaving her side. Not until the Good Lord calls me home. And even then, I’ll be waiting to spend eternity with her.

And I can promise you one thing, this is a battle I’m gonna win.