Chapter 33 Dax
dax
Clementine’s entire demeanor is off. Hunched shoulders, crossed arms, agreeing to chat with the ex. Bullshit it’s about the boys.
My fingers curl into fists at my sides, wanting to punch the guy but having to restrain myself. He’s done nothing wrong at the moment, and I would never put Clementine in that spot. Won’t give him the upper hand when I’d be the one hauled off in handcuffs. I don’t need the boys seeing that.
The minute the car pulls away from the curb, she breaks. I’m there to catch her before she collapses to the ground. She burrows her head against my chest, her arms gripping my back, holding on like a lifeline.
“Shh. I got you.” I whisper more soothing words into her neck, words of comfort, anything to make her feel better.
“Fucker just showed up here with no warning. Let himself into the B and B, too,” Willa states, anger in her tone. “How did he know where they were?”
My hackles rise. He showed up here unannounced? That must have been a shock for her. For all of them. The boys seemed okay leaving with him, and once Clementine’s calmer, I’ll get her to explain the rest.
She pulls her head away from my chest, twin tracks of tears cascading down her cheeks. She peers up at me, so much sadness in her expression. Which sucks because it’s fucking Christmas Eve. No one should be sad.
“I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t say no to him in front of the kids, not when they wanted to go with him.”
“You did the right thing.” Hell if I know that’s true, but when her head bobs an inch, it’s confirmed. “What can I do? How can I help?”
A sad smile eclipses her mouth. “This.” She motions between us. “You’re doing it.”
“This doesn’t feel like much,” I mutter. There’s got to be something else I can do. Punch something. Slash his tires. Put him back on a plane to North Carolina.
Her pupils dilate, the emerald ring around them shrinking.
“Are you kidding? This is everything, Dax. You being here for me, letting me get my emotions out, following my lead when I’m sure you wanted to punch him.
For the record, had he said anything stupid, I would have let you.
” She chuckles, and it’s the best sound.
A bit of the tension and the fury invading her cells melts away. “What time is it?”
“Three-thirty, four maybe. Why?”
“Four hours before the boys come home. This mama needs a few drinks and—” She stops herself with a hand over her mouth.
Lucky for her, I know exactly what she’s going to say. “Heidi, we may be a little late to dinner. Put a plate aside for us, would ya?”
My sister has fire in her eyes. “First, you invite yourself to crash my and Beck’s Christmas Eve tradition, and now you’re not even going to be here? Rude.”
Clementine steps out of my arms. “It’s my fault. Well, my ex’s for showing up here. But I’m not good company right now, and Dax is the only person who can fix it.”
“How?” She must be dense to ask the question.
“I don’t think you want that question answered,” Willa supplies.
“Oh. Oh,” she repeats, the light bulb going off. “Got it now. Blame the pregnancy hormones. They’re more brutal this time.”
“Again, Heidi?” Lenny complains at realizing the secret she divulged.
“Ah, fuck.” She slaps her hand across her forehead. “It’s not my fault.”
“Congrats.” Clementine’s the first one to offer her congratulations, stepping into a hug with my sister. “Can’t say I blame you. Those fetuses suck the life outta you.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Willa, Beck, and I all offer similar messages of congrats, and then Clementine and I prepare to take off. She grabs all her stuff from inside, and we head out to her van since my truck isn’t here. She hands over her keys, and I ask, “Your place or mine?”
“Yours is quicker, but we’ll have more time at mine.”
“Yours it is.”
She was so desperate for release, we didn’t make it past her couch. We also didn’t bother getting completely undressed.
A handful of orgasms later, I pour Clementine’s favorite holiday ale into a cup. She’s already had one, but she’s adamant she can handle another. I’ll reassess her state after this one. She’ll be pissed at herself if she’s even the tiniest bit drunk for the discussion with her ex.
I set the cup on the table next to the couch and sit down. “I still can’t believe he showed up here out of the blue. What’s his angle?”
A long, drawn-out sigh tumbles out of her.
“I wish I knew. He mentioned something about an email from his lawyer for a new agreement or something. I don’t want to ruin this holiday reading it, but I suppose it's already ruined, so I might as well.” Instead of getting up for her phone, she crawls over to me, straddling my lap.
She runs her hands over my pecs, and I wince, the pain still fresh. “What happened?”
“You.” Maybe it’s not exactly the right answer, especially the way her expression shifts to confusion, but it’s my truth.
She happened, forever changing my life.
“Me? What did I do?” she asks.
I should explain before I become the object of her fury and anger.
I slip my arm out of the sleeve of the shirt I’m wearing, moving the fabric so I can show her. Well, it’s covered up, but she’ll get the gist once I explain.
“You got a new tattoo?” she wonders, a smile on her face. “When did you get it done? Can I see it?”
“My guy squeezed me in this morning as a last-minute Christmas surprise for you.”
“You got a tattoo for me? As a Christmas present?”
“Yeah. You can remove the bandage. Just be careful. It’s tender.”
With nimble fingers, she peels back the bandage, quarter inch by quarter inch, slowly so as not to disturb the tattoo or cause me more pain. The bandage is halfway removed when she gasps.
“You didn’t.”
“I did.” I smile, because yeah. It’s fast and reckless, but it’s also right. I know and feel it deep in my bones. She’s the woman I’m supposed to spend my life with.
“Dax. You got my name tattooed on your chest. In permanent ink.” Her shock causes her to jump off the couch, leaving the bandage still half stuck on. While she paces, I remove the rest. “But why?”
“The other one was fading. I needed a touch-up.”
“Then you should have told me, and I would have done it again. With body markers, not permanent ink. This one won’t wash off.”
“The guy at the shop implied otherwise,” I jest. Clementine stops her pacing, staring at me, a mask of unreadable emotions on her face.
“Why?” she repeats. “Why my name?”
I climb off the couch, standing in front of her, tipping her chin up with my finger.
“It’s you, Clementine. You’re the one I’ve waited for.
Why I’ve never had an inkling to settle down.
Why none of the others would have worked out.
Hell, to even get too involved or attached.
Because no one else is you. And you’re it for me. ”
She shakes her head in disbelief, my finger falling from her chin. “You can’t know that. It’s only been a few weeks.”
“When you know, you know.” It sounds cliché, but in my case, it’s accurate. I can’t put into words how I know, but I do. She’s the other half of my heart, even when I didn’t realize I was looking for it.
“It’s good now, sure, but what if things go bad? What if you decide I’m not worth it? What if having an instant family isn’t for you?”
“Things might be temporarily bad. Nothing’s perfect one hundred percent of the time.
” I close the short distance she put between us.
“You’re worth it. You’re worth everything.
I’ll prove it to you every day.” Another step backward for her and forward for me.
“You and your boys are it for me. Well, maybe not completely. We may have to add members.”
“How much beer did you drink tonight? Do you know what you’re saying? What you’re agreeing to?”
“Not a drop, and I know exactly what I’m saying.
I’m saying I’m all fucking in, Clementine.
And in case you need proof, here it is.” I point to the tattoo of her name, careful not to touch it.
“I’m agreeing to a life with you, with your boys, with us all together.
However that looks. We take it slow, or we keep going at the pace we’ve set.
You decide. You’re the driver. I’m lucky to be along for the ride. ”
She’s quiet for a few minutes, her brain processing everything I’m telling her. “I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispers.
“Say you’re in, and we’ll go from there.” I’ve never felt the motto “go big or go home” more than I do in this moment. Because this is me laying it all on the line. Giving myself to her. Letting her know where I’m at.
And she could easily turn me down. Tell me to go to hell. Question my sanity.
All three would be appropriate, and with the way she’s biting the skin around her nail, her face etched with worry, my heart rate kicks up about how she’s going to answer.
When I had the brilliant idea of making her tattoo permanent, I didn’t question it. I didn’t ignore my gut telling me it was the right decision. I did it, leaning into how right being with her feels.
No amount of time we spend together is enough.
Our chemistry is electric and off-the-charts.
She’s the first person I think of in the morning and the last at night.
She’s the one I want to share any news with, good or bad.
When I envision my future, she and the boys are what I see.
After what feels like forever, an all-encompassing grin slides onto her lips. With a shrug, she exclaims, “I’m in. Crazy or not, I’m all fucking in.” I don’t have time to process her words before she leaps into my arms, grabs onto my face, and melds our lips together.
It’s like coming home after a long time away and Christmas morning wrapped together and tied with the prettiest bow.
The kiss is heated, passionate, intense. It puts every past kiss to shame.
It’s a beginning and a promise of what’s to come.