Chapter 17
Seventeen
When I woke in the morning, it was to my sheets, my bed, the room that had been mine for the past five months.
For a second, I was sure I’d dreamed it, all of it. Even though some of it was a nightmare. The past five months had been a nightmare. And then Kane turning up in the rain, during a storm, dripping wet with anger and blame emanating from him… That had been both a dream and a nightmare.
But the sheets smelled of him. My body ached in a delicious way from what he’d done to me last night. I heard signs of life downstairs, the opening and closing of the back door, dog nails on the hardwood floor.
I slumped down onto my bed.
Kane was here.
Though our bodies had joined last night, a closeness that I’d never had with anyone else, there was still distance between us. Kane had left the bed before I woke. I slept like the dead these days and hadn’t even stirred. In our life before, he never left the bedroom without waking me. Yet another glaring and painful reminder of how things were different.
Steeling myself, I held on to the headboard in order to get out of bed. Now that I was larger, my center of balance was way off.
He’d claimed me back last night. Without question, he’d made me his all over again. Even without kissing me. That was purposeful, I thought, not giving me that.
Yet in the harsh light of day, things were different. I was his, but somehow, I wasn’t.
I felt self-conscious. Awkward. I sorely regretted throwing on the tee he’d been wearing yesterday. I hadn’t been able to help myself. It was soft and it smelled like him. It strained over my stomach, showing all of my leg and the boyshorts underwear I’d pulled on.
I’d forgone a robe because I was suddenly not icy-cold anymore, and I’d been anxious to run down to the kitchen. I was desperate to ensure that this wasn’t a dream.
It hadn’t been.
Kane was here. In my kitchen. The picture of masculine perfection.
He was dressed in running clothes and covered in sweat. He’d obviously brought in a bag of clothes at some point. My eyes traveled over the ridges in his abs, visible as his tee clung to his torso. I licked my lips at the memory of the feel of him, his sculpted abs, his weight, his warmth, the fullness of my body with him inside me.
But he wasn’t here. Not entirely.
My step stuttered as his eyes fell on me. They did a slow sweep of my body, again lingering for a long time on my stomach.
Suddenly putting on his tee felt like a mistake. It was too presumptuous.
Yes, I was carrying his child, and yes, we’d had sex last night. But that didn’t mean we were together .
He’d been in prison for five months. He said he came straight here. He hadn’t been with a woman in almost half a year. It must’ve just been a physical thing; he’d needed a release. Nothing was fixed between us. It wasn’t that simple.
“I, um, should probably get dressed.” I started retreating from the kitchen.
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growled.
I froze at his tone.
But inside of my body I didn’t.
My insides responded. Viscerally.
The air between us was charged, Kane pinning me in place with his possessive stare.
I was barely breathing.
“You hungry?” he asked.
I licked my lips. “Starving.”
Kane’s body jolted. And although there was a lot of unfamiliarity between us right then, I knew that response. I knew he was feeling the same desire I was. It was the fire in his eyes, the way his shoulders tightened, his jaw clenched.
But in a split second, all of that was gone.
“There’s nothing in the fridge.” He nodded to the sub-zero appliance.
I rubbed my forehead, trying to focus. “Yeah, I um, haven’t gone grocery shopping. I eat out a lot. There’s a bakery that makes croissants that will change your life. They hide three behind the counter for me; they’re popular, and they’re kind of my thing for breakfast these days.”
Fiona—one of the owners of the bakery—had begun doing that when I started to show, and it became clear the croissants were important to me the one morning I arrived and they were sold out, and I almost burst into tears. Those croissants were my one little slice of joy in my lonely, scary new life.
Pathetic but true.
The women at the bakery—Nora, Fiona and Tina—had all been welcoming, had even offered multiple times to have me over for dinner as I was new in town and was obviously alone.
I’d politely refused every time, although part of me wanted to be part of the friendship—the family—they seemed to have. But a few things stopped me, those things being the two hulking, handsome husbands of the women who adored them. Adored them with a ferocity that was too hard to look at.
Reminding me too much of what I’d lost.
I’d put myself away, on my proverbial island, in this house, walking on the beach for hours with my dog, reading books, watching mindless television, trying to plan for a life I hadn’t expected. One as a single mother.
Kane was staring at me. He had been staring at me for a long time, while I’d been lost in thought. Brackets framing his mouth and the crease between his eyes told me he was worried.
I wondered how much of the last five months I’d shown on my face.
“Let’s go get you your croissant, then,” he said, although I was sure that wasn’t what he’d planned to say.
I nodded, not moving, still staring at him. Blanche ran up to me, puffing and tongue wagging, nuzzling her face into my hand. Kane had obviously taken her on the run with him.
“First, you walking her alone is no longer happening,” Kane motioned to Blanche. “You want to walk, we’ll do it together. You’re not getting pulled by her in your condition.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he wasn’t done.
“As much as I enjoy the sight, you’re gonna have to change into something different to go to the bakery,” Kane waved to my clothing. “I’ll need a shower too, but you can go first if you need one.”
He was offering practical solutions to get ready for the day. Except that wasn’t Kane. He wasn’t about practicality. If we were together and needed a shower, we did it together. He carried me there, my legs wrapped around his hips, his mouth on mine.
Sure, such a thing wouldn’t be practical given my overall size. But the shower off my bedroom was plenty large enough for both of us. Though small, the entire cottage had been renovated by someone with sense. The kitchen was big, and the bathrooms were all big enough for walk-in showers, full tubs and double sinks. Not that I thought I’d need the double sinks.
And maybe I wouldn’t, since it was possible that Kane would never want to do something as benign and intimate as brush his teeth next to me again.
“I’ll go first,” I said, trying to digest everything.
I turned quickly so he wouldn’t see my eyes well up.
“Chef.”
I stopped, taking a breath to clear my expression before I turned.
Kane was standing in the same position, his eyes locked on mine.
He lifted two of his fingers to his lips then tapped against them.
The silent command made me gasp, made hope warm in my stomach.
I traveled the distance between us. He didn’t move, didn’t meet me halfway. Maybe that meant something. Maybe that meant nothing.
I went up on my tiptoes to reach his lips, laying mine on his. Still he hadn’t moved to take over the kiss. It was all me. Until our lips touched, our tongues crashed together, and the kiss was no longer the peck on the lips I’d expected.
By the time it was done, Kane’s hand was on my ass, inside of the panties, his other hand behind my neck.
Our bodies couldn’t be flush because of my protruding stomach pressing into his flat torso.
Kane looked down at my stomach, his eyes hungry and possessive. He let go of my ass, stepped back then knelt down to lay his lips gently on the swell.
“Good morning, Baby Girl Rhodes,” he murmured in an incredibly tender, incredibly sweet voice, speaking without any of the reservation he was using with me.
Which was good. I didn’t want Kane taking his resentment toward me out on our child.
As if responding to her father’s voice, a foot kicked against Kane’s hand.
His eyes widened in wonder, then he smiled. Smiled with his whole being. Without any of the shadows that had been shrouding his face. “I can’t wait to meet you either,” he whispered, laying his hands on me a moment longer before looking up at me.
His smile was gone.
My heart panged painfully.
“You wanna be quick about getting ready?” he asked. “Our baby’s hungry.”
Another heart pang.
Our baby . Protective. Claiming.
Because I couldn’t speak, I just nodded then turned to go get ready.
My tears mixed with the spray of the shower. And I couldn’t decide whether they were from happiness or heartbreak.
KANE
I could barely breathe. Barely fucking think. My mind had been in a fog since the second Avery had opened that door. I’d been prepared to be mad at her. Ready to rage at her for running from me. For fucking abandoning me.
Just like my mother had.
Yeah, it was shitty of me, projecting all of my issues onto her when I knew she wasn’t my mother. But I’d also told her about my mother, about the wounds she’d opened up inside me. Ones I’d hid from everyone but her. And I’d been livid about the fresh cuts she’d created herself despite knowing what she knew.
But then I saw her.
Her face flushed, different, softer yet harder at the same time. More vulnerable. So much more vulnerable.
And her stomach.
My child.
My fucking daughter.
Growing inside her.
Had been growing inside her while I’d been in a cell these past months. And I hadn’t known. I’d fucking missed it. Months of it. I’d missed watching her grow. I’d missed taking care of my woman. The doctors’ appointments. I’d missed carrying fucking furniture up the stairs. Getting pulled on a beach by a seventy-pound dog.
The thought of Avery doing all that.
Pregnant.
I flexed my fingers so I didn’t put my fist through a wall.
I left Avery sleeping. She’d looked exhausted, so I didn’t want to wake her. She needed the sleep. I’d battled over waking her up to fuck her last night, knowing that she was tired, that she hadn’t been sleeping well—you could see it on her face. But my worse nature, my baser needs had overridden whatever shred of good was left in me. So I’d fucked her again, until she’d moaned for me, came for me then drifted off to sleep with my cock still inside her.
Yeah, she was fucking exhausted.
She hadn’t even twitched when I’d gotten out of bed and gotten dressed this morning.
“You found her,” was my brother’s greeting.
Avery was getting ready, though it took everything I had to let her walk out of that kitchen wearing my shirt without claiming her
She’d walked in, barefoot, still hazy with sleep—I’d never seen her sleepy, and damn, she was fucking gorgeous sleepy—wearing my tee, the fabric straining over her stomach. Her perfect, round stomach. Holding our baby.
Yeah, after she walked over to me, so uncertain, nervous, kissing me. After tasting her, I’d wanted to take her on the kitchen fucking counter. Claim her all over again. But there was no food in the house, and she’d barely eaten last night. I needed to feed her. Feed both of them.
The feel of that pressure against my hand, harder than I’d expected, much harder... In all honesty, it had freaked me the fuck out, feeling it at first. I’d worried for Avery, that it must’ve hurt her. But she hadn’t seemed bothered. The opposite, actually. All of the tenseness leaving her face when she kicked last night, a lazy contentment washing over her. Love. It softened all of her hard edges. And I hadn’t thought my woman could be any more stunning.
“Found her,” I agreed.
Knox had been the one to track her down. He’d done it in less than five minutes. I was sure it was through less than legal means, but I didn’t give a shit. My brother lived his life how he lived his life. If he was ever caught doing whatever shit it was he did, he would get a fuck of a lot longer than five months in prison.
He wouldn’t get caught.
And he’d die rather than be incarcerated. I knew that. He’d been in contact the second I got out. I knew the reasons behind him not being there for the trial—his specialty was not manipulating the justice system. But he had managed to manipulate the prison hierarchy to make sure no one so much as looked at me the wrong way inside.
“Good,” was all he said.
My brother was a man of few words and not a romantic by any means, but I knew he liked Chef.
“She’s pregnant,” I told him.
I heard his swift intake of breath. From a man who was not easily shocked. He hadn’t dug that deep, then, hadn’t hacked into medical records. Hadn’t thought he’d needed to, maybe.
“It’s mine,” I continued.
“Of course, it is.”
Again, a small inkling of what Knox thought of my woman. He knew she wasn’t about to jump into bed with someone else while I was locked up.
I remembered accusing her of it belonging to someone else. As much as I was mad at her, she didn’t deserve that kind of bullshit.
I cracked my neck. “Brax told her I didn’t want it. Her. Asshole told her I said to get rid of it.”
Brax didn’t reply right away, but I could hear him breathing.
“You want it to look like an accident?” he asked. His tone was casual, deceptively calm. But I knew him, could feel the undertone of rage.
Not just rage. Killing fury. We dealt with our childhoods in very different ways, but both avenues fed that desire to dance with death. Mine was just on motorcycles, snowboards and whatever else I could find.
Knox’s way of dealing was through literal death. Although I’d never flat out asked him, I knew my brother had killed before. Regardless, I didn’t consider him a murderer. The people whose lives he ended must’ve been the worst of them. Must’ve deserved it.
My brother had had it worse than me. He protected me from a lot of abuse that scarred not only his body but his very soul.
He’d kill Brax. He’d do it for me, and it would never tie back to either of us. He wouldn’t lose sleep over it either.
Though I ached for the man responsible for the pain behind my woman’s eyes to stop breathing, I needed to face him first. Feel his bones crush under my fists.
“I’ll deal with it,” I told Knox, hearing the shower turn off upstairs. “Just get him here.”
Avery was naked upstairs. My dick stood at attention at that thought. Her sexy body, full with my child.
My fucking child.
I still hadn’t quite processed it, even though I’d slept with my hand on her stomach all night, had felt our baby move underneath my palm even as Avery slept. I hadn’t slept. Not a fucking wink. No way was I going to miss a second of feeling that. Hearing Avery breathe peacefully next to me. Smell her.
No fucking way.
And I was worried if I gave in to sleep, that I’d wake up on a thin, lumpy mattress in a damp cell.
It was the memories of that cell that had me wrenching myself away from Avery’s warm body in order to run down the beach. Even in her bedroom, cozy and warm, even wrapped up in the scent of her, I felt as if I were suffocating, trapped. The run along the beach had helped—the salty air, the crisp breeze, the open sky and the burning of my lungs, my limbs getting rid of the excess energy.
The lanky dog running beside me had loved it too, stupid fucking tongue wagging all over the place.
The place, Jupiter, was nice. I had to admit that. I’d always liked small towns, loved the ocean. It had a quiet, peaceful feel to it, this place. Not overrun with tourists, not bought out by commercial conglomerates. And the house, the cottage, down a long rambling drive, surrounded by woods but opened up to the ocean off the back porch... So not what I expected of Avery but somehow perfect. Small, unique, warm. I could see her, at the stove, cooking our daughter breakfast.
“It’s a girl,” I told my brother. “I’m going to have a daughter.”
My mouth went dry at the thought. I was going to have a little girl. And I couldn’t be fucking happier.
Although I was going to be in trouble if she was half as beautiful as her mother. Which I knew she would be.
“I’ll get you a shotgun for Christmas,” Knox replied.
I barked out a laugh.
It was genuine. I hadn’t laughed in … how long? The night before I was hauled away in cuffs, probably.
“Seriously, happy for you, brother,” Knox added.
I clutched the phone.
“We haven’t had much real shit to celebrate in this life,” he continued. “Certainly not family. Glad you’ve got it.”
What went unsaid was that he’d never have that. That he wasn’t capable of having that. Because of what happened to him. What he’d protected me from.
“You’ve got to come and meet her,” I urged.
“Sure thing. I’ll be there, shotgun in tow.”
I managed a grin. This one hurt.
“Glad you’re out,” he said.
“Me too.”
Then we hung up, because I knew my brother; that’s all he could say. Knew that he was beating himself up plenty about my months in the pen.
I took a long breath after putting my phone down on the counter, staring out at the ocean. It was calmer today, the sky a pale blue, no clouds, no hint of the storm that had raged throughout the night.
This was the place Avery had chosen. Her escape? Her hiding place? Her sanctuary?
Whatever it was, I decided that Jupiter, Maine, would suit us just fine.