Page 21

MERIT

Walking back down the marble corridor to the Children’s Wing, I shuffle the cold milk jug in my hand.

I can’t believe he slept over last night. Last night was Night Seven. Seven nights in a row of having wild and passionate and wonderfully crazy sex with Holt.

And if I’m telling the truth, it’s not just been the nights.

There’s been some pretty spectacular midday romps in there too.

But I’ve kicked him out of my bed every single night. Until last night. Afterward, we lay there talking, and, well, I guess I fell asleep. Because the next thing I know, I’m waking up with his sleeping body tangled with mine. Needless to say, Holt still looks as delicious asleep as he does awake. And he still sleeps with a possessive arm wrapped around my body—specifically around my swollen belly, like he’s unwilling to let me go—even in his dreams.

My heart skipped a beat having him next to me again.

Just like old times.

And then, I reprimanded myself for feeling that way and decided to focus on blueberry pancakes instead.

But I was out of milk. Hence, me raiding his fridge in the Big House. Seeing as how I had his massive cock inside my mouth last night, I figured he’d be more than happy to share some of his milk with me.

Of course, I’d still be happy to give him a blow job, even without the offer of free condiments. He makes this deep growl in the back of his throat when I’m going down on him. It’s so freakin’ sexy. And he plays with my hair, softly massaging my scalp. It sends shivers down my spine. Every single time.

I’m about to cross the threshold into the apartment when something catches my eye on the side table next to the door.

His cell phone.

Just sitting there.

Like it did a thousand times before. Before our lives imploded.

Unable to stop myself, I grab it. The lock screen lights up with a running list of sports and news notifications. It looks like he has a couple of texts from last night too, from Ridge and Teresa. I enter what used to be his passcode and it buzzes, telling me I’ve chosen wrong. I try the new security code for the house—the day we met—and it immediately opens.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I know the passcode to his phone again.

I could do anything I want right now. Text people. Email people. Call people.

And accusations of that very same thing ruined my life just a few short months ago. Accusations that tossed me to the ground and stomped me to death, leaving me lifeless and bleeding.

In my bedroom, he’s still sleeping, with blankets piled around him, and spiky, sexy bedhead. “Holt. Holt, wake up.”

Of course, he doesn’t move.

I take another step closer to the bed and tap his back with the cold milk jug. “Wake up!” I scream as loud as I can.

Fortunately, that does the trick. He doesn’t jerk awake like most people would, though. Instead, he shifts around, yawning and stretching, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Pursing my lips, I look up at the ceiling, refusing to watch the rippling movement of his muscles. Rolling over, he squints. The morning sunlight makes the freckles on his nose shine. “Hey.” His voice is coated in sleep and sex.

I ignore the way it makes me feel. “What is this?” I say nodding at my hand.

His eyebrow lifts. “Milk,” he says with a cute little smirk.

I roll my eyes. He knows I was nodding at my other hand. “Not that. This,” I say, lifting the cell phone in the air.

“My cell phone. You need to make a call, Mer? I’ll let you borrow it,” he teases with his signature wink.

“Why did you leave it outside the bedroom? After everything that happened? How can you still do that?”

He sits up, dangling one leg off the side of the bed. The sheet is dangerously close to showing me his full naked body. Sighing, he drags a hand across his face, scratching his facial hair. “Because she took enough from us. I refuse to give her anymore. I refuse to let her win.”

I look down at it. Something so simple. Yet, it caused so much heartache. “Her sentencing is Monday.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Are you going to it?”

“Of course, I am. I want you there too. I want you by my side.” He looks into my eyes, waiting for a response. “Will you go with me?”

***

I stare out the window, watching Crutch usher my parents up the steps of the courthouse, past the throngs of reporters and spectators. Just like he did with me about an hour ago. I had Crutch on one side, and Ridge on the other, blocking me from the prying eyes and flashing cameras.

Holt, trying to divert their attention, paused for a couple of questions. Then, he snuck over to the side where several Peewee football teams were standing and flashing homemade signs of support. He took pictures with every single kid and passed out bright, shiny pennies.

Teresa squeezes my shoulder, watching as my parents disappear from view. “I’m really glad they could come. They’d do anything to support you. They’re wonderful people.”

I blink, studying her kind and sincere eyes. “They’re here to support him,” I say, flashing my gaze to Holt. “No matter what’s happened between us, they know he’s innocent. They’ve known it since day one.” I glance down at my growing stomach. “And no matter what happens from here on out, he’ll be a part of our lives. Forever. It’s important we show a united front.” I try to swallow, but my throat feels incredibly dry for some reason. I guess it’s the diplomatic bullshit I’m trying to spew forth. “Besides, I’m not even speaking today.”

She smiles. “That doesn’t mean you don’t need support too, sweetie. This didn’t just happen to him. It happened to all of us.”

Yeah, don’t I know it.

I look around the small family room connected to the courtroom. Everyone is here. And I mean everyone. Not the little kids, of course; although, Nate is here. He’s old enough to understand. Hell, he even got a black eye over it. All of us were affected by Holt’s arrest, terrorized by the allegations. I think we could all give victim impact statements, but only Ray, Raylee, and Holt have said they want to.

Relief courses through me when my parents finally make it into the room. I didn’t realize just how much I missed them over the past several weeks. I guess I got used to living back at home. Wiping tears from her eyes, Mom flutters her hand across the wispy fabric of my oversized, navy-blue cardigan. “Show me. Let me see how much you’ve grown.” Blushing in embarrassment, I open the lightweight sweater, flashing her the tight fabric of the off-white sundress I’m wearing. It’s sleeveless and comes to above the knees. The linen shift is supposed to be a little baggy. Yeah, not so much. About two more weeks, and I won’t even be able to pull it down past my boobs.

“You’re bigger.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks, Mom. Confidence booster.”

She laughs. “That belly’s growing a human. What do you expect? Besides, you’re still way smaller than I was. You need more red meat.”

Just the thought of steak makes me nauseous.

The door opens, and a court deputy leans in, whispering to Crutch. He nods. “We’ll be right there.” His hand reaches out, instantly connecting with Ella’s. They have an unspoken body language that’s beautiful. Intense and completely beautiful. “It’s time,” he announces. He looks over at Holt. “You’ll walk in last.”

Holt doesn’t waste any time. He crosses the room and wraps a possessive arm around my waist. “Okay,” he says, looking down into my eyes, “we’re ready.”

Under normal circumstances, I’d quickly remind him that we aren’t together anymore, but this is hardly a normal circumstance. And if I’m being completely honest, I think I need his touch. I need the silent power his body pours into mine. Without it, I might not even have the strength to put one foot in front of the other.

Wordlessly, we all file into the courtroom. I hate the quiet. It reminds me of a funeral.

The courtroom is packed, filled with people. The faint clicks of the cameras chafe against my eardrum, like nails on a chalkboard. The judge held a lottery for the press, only allowing five reporters inside. Well, five reporters we didn’t approve of, plus Chloe. When her credentials weren’t pulled in the lottery, we requested she be present as our personal press representative. After everything that’s happened, she’s proven herself to be a stand-up journalist.

I fold my hands in front of me and count the tiles on the floor, refusing to look at anyone. Holt guides me down the aisle with his hand on the small of my back. We stand, waiting for the judge to come in. My hair falls in my face, bothering me, but I refuse to move my hands from their steadfast position.

I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

I repeat my mantra, trying to pump myself up.

Just pretend I’m back in court, watching Edward at one of his trials. If I could make it through those, surely, I can make it through this.

Surprising me, Holt reaches out and gently tucks the loose hair behind my ear. He leans down and whispers. “Look up, Mer. She doesn’t have any power over you. None of these people do.”

Steeling myself with a deep breath, I follow his advice, looking up. I don’t have to search for Delaney. Even if I didn’t know where the convicted sit, I’d still spot her right away.

Because she’s staring at me.

Staring at us.

Staring at my covered and hidden baby bump.

Jail hasn’t been particularly kind to her. She’s gained weight, and her once flawless complexion is marked with a small bit of acne and ruddiness.

Huh. I guess the five-hundred-dollar night cream really does work.

Her hair is tied back in a bun, and she’s wearing a black blouse and gray slacks. No expensive jewelry. No designer clothes. No movie-star makeup.

Not to mention, she doesn’t seem particularly happy to see me.

Well, right back at ya, bitch.

Fortunately, our staring contest ends when the judge enters and immediately starts the proceedings. Throughout the hearing, Holt’s hand never leaves my leg. His calloused fingertips indent my tanned skin with a death grip. It’s quite possible I’ll have a bruise afterward, but I would never shoo him away. Not during this.

We need each other.

The only person who speaks on Delaney’s behalf is her ex-boyfriend, Heidi’s uncle, Trenton Trevors. Not even her parents are here. I mean, she’s completely ruined her father’s career. Before all of this, I heard he was considering making the move from state politics to the national level. Edward’s not here either. He had to agree with the prosecution’s decision to also charge her for the theft of his money, lest he seem complacent with the plan to frame Holt. He and the other partners have been trying to save the sinking law firm. Needless to say, it’s taken quite the hit to its reputation.

When it’s time for the victim impact statements, Ray goes first, followed by Raylee. Of course, there’s not a dry eye in the house when Raylee reads a letter written by Anna. Fortunately, tissue boxes are scattered along the pews.

Then, it’s time for Holt.

To the naked eye, he’s not nervous. How could he be? He’s been exonerated. He’s getting his justice. This must be a piece of cake. A breeze compared to playing in the highest-watched Super Bowl. Ever.

But I can tell he’s nervous.

His graceful movements are a split second delayed. His firm and sure voice can only be found after clearing his throat.

“I always wondered what made me so lucky. It’s actually one of my earliest memories. I went to bed every night with a full belly, in a warm bed, surrounded by a family. A great family. And then, I picked up a football. I played a game and found my place in the world.” He smiles, softly chuckling. “I’d say that’s pretty lucky. Not too many people can earn a living just from playing a really fun game.”

He looks around the courtroom, absorbing the sea of faces. “Even the tragedies in my life had a flip side to them. The disappearance of my cousin brought my family closer together. It gave my other cousin a wonderful husband and son. The tornado that destroyed everything around us when I was in high school gave my best friend a life purpose, saving those around him as a firefighter. Even my injury was lucky. I was able to live my life, watching my beautiful nieces and nephews grow up beside me. I landed a job coaching high school ball and found my second calling.” He looks over at me. The intensity of his stare nearly cuts off my circulation. “Most importantly, my injury kept me in my hometown, where I met the love of my life one Friday night at a children’s shoe store.”

He takes a deep breath and turns on Delaney. “And then you took all that away. You stole my luck. You kidnapped my happiness. You slaughtered my security.” She pretends to pick at a piece of lint on her shirt, doing her best to ignore him. “I’m embarrassed to admit that I didn’t even think about you when I was arrested. Not once. I didn’t think about you when I was sitting in the jail cell. When I was locking my nieces and nephews out of my house because I was too scared for them to be seen with me. When I was turning on my family. When I was ruining the life and career of the woman I love. When I was burning my world to the ground because I was crippled by the shame of the horrible things I was accused of.”

He shakes his head back and forth. “And I should have thought about you. In fact, you should’ve been the very first thing I thought of. Why?” He grips the podium with both hands. “Because I know you, Delaney.”

That gets her attention.

He cocks an eyebrow in amusement. “I know how you operate. Deep down, I knew it even before I asked you out on our first date in high school. I could see the manipulation churning behind your eyes. I could see the evil of your heart. I could see the toxicity of your soul.”

And that? That definitely gets her attention.

“Yet, I asked you out anyway. I ignored the warning signs. And those couple of dates? Well, let’s just say getting tackled by a three-hundred-pound lineman was more fun.”

A couple of spectators laugh. Even the judge hides a smile behind his hand.

“And then I made the mistake of opening my door to you in North Carolina. You stole from me, threatened me, and tried to derail my career. More importantly, you made me a complete skeptic. I started to think I’d never find my other half. The person I was meant to spend the rest of my life with. My reason for waking up each day. But despite your best efforts, it finally happened. It happened. And I was lucky again. You saw that. And you decided to take it all away.”

His face hardens into true grit and determination. His words are coated in danger and rawness. “Well, I’m here to take it all back, Delaney.”

Tears spring to the corners of my eyes. I fight to swallow.

“I’m taking back everything you stole from me. I’m taking back my life. I’m taking back my happiness. I’m taking back my freedom.”

He slowly folds the piece of paper he’s been reading from and lazily puts it in his pocket. His nerves are gone. His masculine grace is back. In full force.

Completely sexy.

He’s the undeniable Holt Hill.

He locks eyes with mine. Our baby rumbles in my stomach, kicking and turning somersaults. Before walking back to his seat, he hits the courtroom with his last declaration.

“And most importantly, I’m taking back my family.”