Chapter 4
The events from a week ago are both a blur and painfully clear in my brain. Xander drove Dalton and Penny to the hospital in my minivan, following myself and the baby in the ambulance, and hung out in the waiting room with my kids until Cal showed up to take over.
Logan’s parents arrived at the hospital shortly after Cal, and Colleen, my mother-in-law, is staying with us for two weeks to help out. She left to run a few errands earlier when Violette got here to let us have some girl time and to let the kids play.
Vi was my savior today; she brought Dalton and Penny Happy Meals earlier and let me eat my own carton of deliciously salty fries while they were still hot. She took the opportunity to snuggle on Bea, who is already somehow a week old. She and her daughter Hollie left just a few minutes ago. Ugh, I owe them all so much. I couldn’t do this without Colleen or Vi.
Cal had called the morning after my emergency home birth to say that they had gotten a roll out back to Wyoming to a sister fire that had broken out, so they’ve been gone for the last week. It hasn’t stopped my brother from texting every day and requesting new baby pictures to share, of course. Vi mentioned that the crew is getting back tonight according to Rowan, who is apparently jonesing to get back to work after his accident.
I haven’t seen Xander since the night Bea was born, which is totally fine with me. I might never be able to look the man in the eyes again after that night. As much as I would love a little amnesia to take over and save me from the waves of mortification that keep swallowing me whole every time I remember the events of that night, it hasn’t happened yet.
“Oh god,” I groan, dropping my face into my hand. The man is fine with a capital F, and he not only witnessed, but assisted, in birthing my newborn. Was all up in there . Fantastic. Poor man is probably scarred for life.
I may or may not be watching out the window for a black pick-up truck to show up in the driveway so I can avoid my stupidly hot neighbor for the rest of my life.
“I see the way you look at him. I think it was fate for him to be the one to come to your rescue.”
Now Violette’s words from our conversation earlier are on replay in my head. Dammit Vi. I don’t look at him any certain way.
I don’t .
Not really , anyway.
He’s just nice to look at. And really kind and gentle and obnoxiously good with my kids. And it’s probably just my stupid postpartum emotions doing its thing making me all sensitive and super emotional.
Right?
Scooping my newborn up just to feel her tiny body against mine, I snuggle her up on my chest as I walk around the kitchen, all seven pounds, two ounces of her. She has the same light brown hair as Dalton and Penny, and the same dark eyes.
I press my lips to the top of her head, breathing in her baby smell as tears well in my eyes. Pushing my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, I swipe at the wetness on my cheek .
Logan made sure I had him with me. In all of our kids. All three of them have his hair and chocolate brown eyes.
It’s like my genetics didn’t even try.
I snort a laugh and then wince at the slight pull of pain in my midsection. Taking Bea with me, I lower myself slowly into the corner of the couch and prop my feet up. I am happy to announce that I once again have ankles and toes that don’t look like sausages. Small win, but a win just the same. I’ll take it.
I haven’t let myself look at my naked body in the mirror yet, not quite ready for that hit to my self-esteem. My body is just built differently, always has been.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve grown to appreciate everything this body has done for me. It carried and birthed three beautiful, healthy babies. But I’m pretty sure this mom pooch will forever be with me. Yay .
The telltale rumble of a truck engine perks my ears and I slink down on the couch as if that will somehow make me less visible to the man in that truck, like he has x-ray vision and can see through the walls or something. I hear the metallic thunk of his truck door closing, and then the quiet snick of his front door.
It’s quiet for a while, Penny zonked out after her playdate with Hollie, and Dalton is in his bedroom. With Bea asleep on my chest, I almost doze off, but startle awake when a knock sounds on the door.
Pulling myself and Bea to a stand slowly, I make my way to the door and pull it open. Xander is standing on the porch, a bouquet of flowers and a paper sack in his hands. He looks like he just stepped out of a shower, his hair is damp and curling slightly at the ends, and he’s wearing a pair of clean jeans and a t-shirt that looks like it’s seen better days.
He’s gorgeous, of course.
And I’m painfully aware of the fact that I didn’t put any makeup on after my shower earlier and my hair is piled up on the top of my head in the messiest of buns. I’m wearing a loose fitting pair of pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. My glasses have a smudge on one corner of the lens that I was too tired to worry about. Mom-couture at its finest. I almost snort another laugh. Yikes .
“There’s the two prettiest girls in Sky Ridge,” he says quietly, his eyes dropping to the baby snuggled against my chest. I blush and roll my eyes. He’s ridiculous.
“Hi, Xander,” I murmur, smoothing my hand over Bea’s back.
“How are you?” he asks, gesturing with his chin to the baby in my arms. “Are you alright? I didn’t do anything to hurt you or the baby, right?”
I smile and shake my head, moving to the side slightly. “We’re both great, thank you. I wouldn’t have known what to do without your help. Would you like to come in?”
He steps inside, closing the door behind him. He follows me into the kitchen and sets the bouquet of flowers down on the counter, along with the white paper bag. “My mom always says the best thing to bring a new mom is a home cooked meal. Best I could do was a deli sandwich from Leo’s. Cal said it’s your favorite.”
“With a pickle spear?” I ask, grinning.
He nods, smiling, too. The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and a little dimple appears in one cheek, partially hidden beneath his dark beard. My heart flutters just a little, tiny little butterflies that aren’t quite ready to take flight yet.
“Would you like to hold her?”
His eyes bounce between mine and the top of Bea’s head, which is resting beneath my chin, and then he nods. Scooping my tiny baby into my hands, I gently spin her and place her in Xander’s arms. She looks so tiny in comparison to his muscled arms and large hands, and tears prick my eyes again as he leans in close and croons to her quietly.
She won’t know what it’s like to have a dad .
Swiping at the tear that tracks down my cheek quickly, I spin so that I’m facing away from him. I don’t want Xander to see me break down. I need to be strong. For my kids at the very least. If he and Cal think I can’t take care of myself or my kids, they’ll never give me any peace.
“Want to dig into that sandwich while I hold her?” he asks my back, and I nod, moving toward the counter and pulling the thick deli sandwich out of the bag. “Sit down, Teddy. You don’t have to eat standing up.”
Moving the sandwich and the plastic wrapped pickle spear to the other side of the kitchen counter, I pull myself up into one of the barstools. I wince at the tightness in my lower abdomen, and hiss out a breath.
Xander is there in a heartbeat, one of his hands dropping to my back, Bea cradled securely in his other arm. “What is it? Are you hurting?”
“Just a little sore still,” I whisper, embarrassment heating my cheeks as I settle into the chair. My eyes find his, but I drop my gaze quickly, shyly. “I’m fine, I promise. Just moved a little quicker than I should have. I’ll be moving around like normal by this time next week.”
Xander moves back to the other side of the counter so that he’s once again standing in the kitchen, his body swaying slightly as he holds Bea. I dig into the sandwich, moaning at the fluffiness of the fresh bread and deli sauce as it hits my tongue. He chuckles lightly and I blush again. Dammit.
“This is delicious, thank you,” I say. “And your mom is right, this was a great idea.”
“You’re welcome. I needed an excuse to come see how this little one was doing. And to see how you’re doing,” he says, his eyes on me. “You sure you’re alright? I was so worried I did something to hurt you–”
I shake my head again, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin. “I promise, we’re fine. You did everything right. You don’t need to worry about me, Xander.”
He swallows hard, his eyes still on mine. “Yeah, I do.”
I blink at him several times, the quiet huskiness of his words short circuiting my brain.
Warning bells go off in my head. This is dangerous territory. My heart is not available. Like, ever again. He must know that, right? I internally shake my head; I’m being ridiculous now. He’s just being polite. As my neighbor. And my brother’s best friend.
Swallowing around another bite, I send up a silent prayer when Bea starts to fuss in his arms. Standing, I round the counter and take her from him.
“Umm, she’s probably hungry,” I whisper lamely, keeping my eyes lowered from his. “Thank you for the sandwich, and the flowers.”
“If you need anything?—”
“I know,” I whisper, raising my eyes to his as he backs away. “Thank you, Xander.”
He moves forward then, swiping his knuckle across Bea’s cheek once, and I squeeze my eyes shut when he drops a kiss to the top of my head, my nose stinging with tears. Oh shit . I need him to go. I need him to go so I can fortify these walls around my very fragile and hyper-emotional heart. That’s all this is. Clearly, my pregnancy hormones are on overdrive.
Besides, I have a promise to keep to myself, and to my kids.
“Teddy.”
I shake my head, stepping back. Whatever he’s going to say, I can’t hear it. Swallowing around the tightness in my throat and blinking back the tears, I whisper almost desperately, “I need to feed her, you should probably go…”
“Okay,” he murmurs softly, almost hesitantly, and then he disappears out the door.
When the door closes behind him, I let my head fall back to my shoulders so I can blink up at the ceiling, sucking in deep, shuddering breaths.
My husband has only been dead for six months… I focus on remembering Logan’s sweet, kind face. How his coffee brown eyes would sparkle when he’d look at me, how loving and passionate he was when he’d make love to me…
But his face keeps getting further and further from my memory as time passes, that face that I had once known like the back of my own hand is now blurred. Like trying to focus on him through a fogged-up window, he always drifts away from me like tendrils of smoke. I keep his pictures up throughout the house, for me, and for Dalton and Penny. Dalton has a picture of Logan in a frame next to his bed, from the last baseball game Logan had made it to. Dalton had hit a homerun, his first, and we’d celebrated with a picture and ice cream after. Dalton was missing one front tooth, but his grin was wide and happy as he held up the homerun ball in his hand. Logan’s arm was draped over his shoulder, and the wide, proud smile on his face said all it needed to, of how much he loved his kids.
I sink into the corner of the couch and lay Bea down on her back just long enough to pull the sweatshirt over my head and toss it aside. Lowering one side of my tank top, I lift her back into my arms and guide her searching mouth to my breast. When she latches, I sigh, closing my eyes.
Opening my eyes, I find our wedding picture across the room where it sits on the TV stand. We were such babies, so young and carefree and without a single idea of what this world was about to bring our way. How little time we would actually have. Despite the ten years of marriage, our ridiculous naivete, and the sometimes-hard times, it hadn’t been enough. I wanted more time, and I hated the cruelty of fate that had taken that away. Taken him away from us. From Dalton, Penny, and Bea.
They would grow up without their dad. And I’m to blame.
Well, I blame myself; even if no one else does. A freak accident, something no one could have predicted, or stopped. Just cruel fate.
Just like that cruel fate would dangle the gorgeous and infinitely kind Xander at me, knowing full well I’ll never take the bait. That harsh reminder of what I’ll never have again.
I’ll never date again, period. A vow I made the day we’d buried Logan. My kids had lost one dad; I wouldn’t subject them to ever having to lose another father figure. I won’t ever allow them to feel this heartbreak again. Even if it means I’ll be single until I’m old and withered and the loneliness in my soul has faded everything else into shades of gray. My kids would be my joy, my light. It would have to be enough. I’d make it be enough. I have to.
Fate didn’t bring Xander as my rescuer, Vi , I think to myself. Fate has made sure Xander is out of reach entirely. By my own self-imposed law.
Because Xander is a career Sky Ridge Hotshot; a wildfire firefighter.
And I’ll never be with another man with a dangerous job.