Page 28

MERIT

“Want some company?” Daddy asks, sitting in the rocking chair beside me.

It’s a beautiful night, light on mosquitoes and heavy on the songs of cicadas and tree frogs. I kick my feet up on the banister railing of the front porch and use it to rock myself back and forth, inhaling the sweet night air. The smell of Bermuda grass is permanently engraved in the air. It’s carved into every molecule.

Daddy reaches over and tugs on my sleeve. “Looks good on you.”

I rake my hands across the flannel button-up. I’ve officially outgrown my normal nightgowns—it felt like I was sleeping in a toddler’s leotard last night. And I’m too stingy to spend money on something I may only wear for another month, so I fished some of Papa’s old shirts out of the closet. My grandfather was a large man. Larger than life, both physically and in personality. His Triple X button-ups give plenty of room for my still-growing stomach.

Daire rolls over, spinning. I can’t imagine not feeling this feeling. A thousand words could never describe how amazing it is.

“Do you think this will be his legacy?” I whisper, nodding to my right, where acres of Bermuda grass grow. “That he will wanna do this? Be a sod farmer?”

Daddy chuckles. “It’s a little early to tell, don’t you think?”

“You know I’ll never let it leave the family. I’ll move back and take it over myself if I have to. I love it too much to ever let it go.”

“True, you love it. But it’s not your passion. Your joy is still locked up with that abandoned store.” He sighs. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” We rock, content in the silence for a few minutes. I scrape my fingernail across the arm of the rocking chair. “He said we should get married.”

Daddy side glances at me. “Said you should get married? Or asked you to get married?”

I frown. “I’m not really sure. It wasn’t exactly the best conversation.”

Daddy lifts a questioning eyebrow.

“I had just told him that it would probably be best for the baby to have my last name. Not his. I told him that it would make things easier.” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. “And… I might’ve brought up the custody papers again.”

Daddy bites back an amused smile. “Well, I can definitely see how that talk might’ve ended poorly.”

I shrug, not sure what to say.

“Well, from where I sit, there are three questions you have to answer.”

“What?”

“Do you forgive him? Do you love him? And do you wanna marry him?” He bumps against my shoulder, trying to ease the tension of the moment. “Cause the second one needs to stick better than the first one,” he jokes, referring to my marriage with Edward.

I roll my eyes. “Haha.” Reaching for my water bottle, I kill time, taking slow sips.

“Well,” Daddy prods, fishing for answers.

There’s no point in doing anything but answering honestly. Daddy can’t pick up on my lies the way Holt can, but he’s a smart enough guy to know bullshit when he hears it. “I finally forgive him. But you know that already. I told you that on the phone from the hospital.”

He lifts his hands in agreement. “I know. I’m just checking to make sure it wasn’t something you only said and only felt in the heat of the moment.”

“No, not the heat of the moment. I forgive him. Really, I do.” Ever since last Friday night, when I thought my life and the life of our child was in danger, I finally let go of the bitterness and hostility and fear. It’s lifted a weight from my soul. A weight of chains and locks that I didn’t even realize were holding me down and suffocating me.

“And I love him. I never stopped loving him. He’s the love of my life. Sometimes, I think my heart is gonna explode because I love him so much.”

“And marriage?”

I swallow, and my throat makes a weird gurgling noise. “I wanna marry him. I want him to be my husband. Forever. But I don’t want him to marry me simply because we’re having a baby.” I shake my head. “And that doubt will always be in my mind. That he’s just asking me because it’s the noble thing to do, because he’s scared of losing his son.”

Daddy nods, thinking about everything I’ve said. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this...”

He knows just what to say to fire my curiosity. With that one simple half-sentence, he pokes smoldering embers with a firework. My heart immediately starts beating faster. “What?”

“He asked me for your hand in marriage.”

“He did?” I furrow my brow thinking back to all the times Holt and I talked this week. “Did he call you? What night did you talk to him?”

“He didn’t call. He asked me in person.” He stops rocking and levels me with a stare. “Last Thanksgiving.”

What? Did he just say last Thanksgiving?

I push a rogue hair from my eyes with trembling fingers. “Did you say last Thanksgiving? As in last November? Like nearly ten months ago? That November?”

He laughs. “Sweetie, there’s only one November.”

I blink, trying to absorb that information. “Before I was pregnant?”

“Before that little boy was even a twinkle in your eye, yes.”

“What!” Unable to control the volume of my voice, I find myself shouting. “Why didn’t he ask me?!”

Dad cocks his head. “Well, I could be wrong, but I do believe he went to jail, from what I remember,” he says, dipping his words in sarcasm.

Well, I sure as shit remember him going to jail. Clear as day.

***

He texted me right before coming in the house so I wouldn’t get scared. So, I’m only slightly surprised when my door opens and he immediately climbs into bed with me.

“Holt! This is my bedroom. What about my parents?”

“What about them? I’m pretty sure they know how babies are made, so us sleeping in the same bed shouldn’t come as any big surprise by now. They know we’re back together; they know I’m never leaving your side again. Besides, we slept together at our house last weekend, and they didn’t say anything.”

Our House.

Back Together.

Never Leaving.

A comforting joy surges in my heart.

“True, but…” my voice trails off.

“But what?”

“It’s just different when it’s your childhood bedroom.” I lift my head off the pillow and nod to the shelf in the corner. “And there’s still Barbie dolls watching over you.”

He follows my eyes. “Yeah, that’s definitely creepy.” Framing his body over mine, he slides a leg between my thighs and brushes his lips against my jaw. “Maybe we should give them something to look at.” He kisses me. Deeply and passionately. Breathing his air into my lungs, his tongue tangles with mine. He tastes like mouthwash and smells like grass and the night air. My fingers tangle in the blond curls around his neck.

Greedy desire curls low in my stomach. My clit immediately throbs, awakening to life with just his kiss. I wrap a leg around him, grinding my crotch against his thigh, aching for his fingers, his tongue, his cock. And when the edge of my panties catches against the crease of his pocket, I wiggle like a madman, trying my best to work the fabric off my pussy. If I could just get a little more friction….

He chuckles, and I feel the vibration in my own chest. “Mmmm. There’s my greedy little baby.” When my back arches, pressing my body against his even more, he growls. Low and primal. “I missed you,” he whispers.

“I missed you more.” I kiss the freckles on his nose, trying my best to be patient and not fuck his leg like a horny dog. “I hear congratulations are in order, Coach. Another win.”

“It nearly went into overtime, but I threatened the kids with double sprints every day next week if they made me one minute late for getting down here to you.”

I roll my eyes. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

“Well, let’s just say I thought it.”

His mouth finds mine again, and his hand slides over to my breast. My fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, eager to take it off him. He must be sweating because my chest feels wet.

Without warning, his lips pull away from mine. “Why is your shirt wet?”

“From you. You’re sweating.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not sweating. I had the AC blasting so I wouldn’t get sleepy on the drive.”

His hand cups my left breast again. “Did you spill something?”

“No.” I push my hands between us, feeling both of my boobs. Sure enough, my shirt is soaked. “What is on me?”

I scramble to sit up, and Holt reaches over and turns on the lamp. Together, we both stare at the wetness staining Papa’s old shirt.

I gasp. “Oh my gosh. I think I’m leaking milk.”

His eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Shit. Are you serious?” He breaks into a wide, contagious smile. “Let me see.” He reaches for my buttons, but my hand slaps over his. He frowns, like a scolded child. “Mer? Are you okay?”

Instantly, my eyes fill with tears. Willing myself not to cry, I lie back down, turning on my side, away from him. “I’m fine.” My emotions and pregnancy hormones rage, leaving me fragile and unsure of myself.

He eases his fingertips underneath my shirt and traces the curve of my spine, tattooing his love into me with his calloused touch. “You’re obviously not fine.”

“I am. Let’s just go to sleep.” I reach for the lamp, but his hand gently wraps around my arm.

“You forget I can read your face.” Bringing my wrist to his mouth, he kisses it. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Sighing, I flop onto my back and stare into his eyes. I open my mouth and close it. Amused, he licks his lips and patiently waits. Eventually, I find the words. They may not be the right words, but at least it’s something. “My body is completely different. Look at me. I mean, what if you never find me attractive again.” I fully expect him to laugh, so I cover my face with my hand so I don’t have to experience the humiliation with my own eyes.

“Merit, look at me.”

“No.”

“You know I’m not gonna accept no as the answer, right?”

He’s not lying. He won’t accept it.

I drag my hands down my face and push myself up. Leaning against the headboard, I study him.

Gorgeous. There’s no denying it. He’s painfully gorgeous. Definitely one of those guys who’s only going to get better looking as he ages. I don’t see a balding head and floppy beer gut anywhere in Holt Hill’s future.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

“Me being beautiful, and you finding me attractive are two very different things.”

Scooting closer, he reaches out, grabbing a lock of my hair and twisting it between his fingers. “Have I ever told you what your hair reminds me of?”

I’m afraid to move. I don’t want him to stop playing with my hair. It tickles.

“The redwood trees in California. Brown with streaks of red and black. Just like your eyes, the color is different every time I look at it. It changes every second of every day.”

My whisper is hoarse. “I’ve never seen the redwoods. I’ve never been to California.”

“I’ll take you there one day. Both you and Daire.” An idea flashes in his eyes, and he grins. “When he’s older, we’ll buy an RV. Take off every summer and explore the country.”

“You’re planning for the future?”

“Always.” He leans forward and kisses me. “And I’ll always be attracted to you. I wanted you from the very first second I laid eyes on you at the store, and I’ve wanted you every second since.” His soft smile falls, thinking about our past, and he grimaces with a brief flash of shame. “Despite what I said after going to jail, despite how I lied, I always wanted you.” Sighing, he drags his nose along the line of my cheekbone, the dip of my jaw, the sensitive column of my neck. “I want my hands on you. And I want my body inside of yours.”

My heart beats faster, and my chest heaves with every panted breath racing from my lungs, as he covers my mouth with his.

His kiss takes new meaning. It’s deeper and stronger. Just like us.

Drawing back, he pulls his shirt over his head, gifting me with the glory of his body. My fingertips glide across every muscle, every line, every curve. His hands actually shake as they work the buttons of my shirt. He stops kissing me and watches in awe as he pushes the shirt from my shoulders. My wet and sticky skin glistens with moisture. Fondling my swollen and oversized breast, he slowly and seductively squeezes. The pressure sends a shock of desire deep into my core, making me moan.

Sure enough, a small amount of clear-white milk pebbles from my nipple.

I have to admit it’s pretty damn shocking. I mean, I’m making milk. I’m a human being, and I’m creating a drink. The thing that will keep our child alive.

Bending his head, he takes my nipple in his mouth, sucking and licking, driving me to the brink of erotic insanity. And just when I think I can’t take anymore, his free hand snakes into my panties and his finger plunges deep inside of me. My head falls back. Before my scream can escape, he shifts, playfully biting my bottom lip. “Shhh. Don’t forget, baby, you aren’t allowed to have boys in your room.”

Even my giggle is filled with heat and steam. “Then, you better get out, sir .”

“Over my dead body.” He rubs his freckled nose along my collarbone, smelling my skin. “I just tasted the milk you are making for our son. That’s so fucking hot.”

“And now?”

He makes quick work of his belt. “And now, I need to be inside of you.”

That sounds like a battle I can let him win.