Excerpt from Nine Month Contract #2
Max’s stunned reaction causes him to pull back from Calder, his face cast in confusion. “Everly figured all this out?”
Calder straightens and tries to gain back an ounce of his manhood. “Yes.”
Max, Luke, and I all gape at him, dumbfounded by this onslaught of new information. I had a long conversation with Everly
several months ago about my plans to find a surrogate to carry my baby, but I had no idea she was this invested in the whole
thing.
Max’s voice is scathing as he turns accusing eyes at me. “You never should have told her, Wyatt. She’s just a child. She doesn’t
even understand all this.”
“She was relentless with her questions, Max,” I argue, anxiety prickling the back of my neck at the possibility I did something
that could have hurt her. “And she’s eighteen—it’s not like she doesn’t know how babies are made. And hell, she’s graduating
from high school in a few months and moving overseas. If she’s old enough to move away to a foreign country, she’s old enough
to understand all this.” My tone is bitter.
“She’s not moving away forever.” Max’s voice catches in his throat, revealing what we’re all feeling as I look around to see
the same sad, desperate look on our faces. The look we’ve all had since Everly told us she was going to Ireland for college
several months ago.
Evie-girl is leaving us.
Another set of approaching tires breaks through our shared moment of depression, and when I see the familiar white Jeep truck
pull up the lane, my heart aches all over again.
Everly Fletcher . . . my eldest brother’s first kid, the sweet little girl Max had with his college girlfriend before they
even graduated, gets out of her truck and walks toward us all with a look of determination.
I was only twenty when she was born, still just a kid myself. Hell, Luke was barely a teenager. But the moment they placed that tiny pink bundle in my arms with a spray of fuzzy white hair and long slender little fingers that wrapped around my calloused thumb . . . I became a man.
And when Max and his wife split up when Everly was just two, she became all our responsibility. This little girl would want
for nothing in life, and it was Calder’s, Luke’s, and my job to make sure she felt no pain from that break. My brothers and
I have doted on her for the past eighteen years. We still take turns taking her out on weekly uncle dates when her busy teen
schedule allows it. She and my brother’s other kid, Ethan, who’s seven now, get plenty of quality time with us. They love
it.
We love them.
Flashbacks of Everly as a little tyke with blond braids bouncing around this mountaintop, begging to bottle-feed my goat,
Millie, flash through my mind’s eye. She would sleep over at one of our cabins every chance she got, which wasn’t as often
as we liked after my brother got divorced. Shared custody was a bitch for all of us.
This is why I want to do this fatherhood thing with a professional. With a contract. With no strings attached at the end.
I don’t want to share my time with my kid. Ever.
I’m still tormented at the thought of my only niece moving away. If I could take Everly to court and sue to keep her right
here in Colorado, I would. Our girl in another country without all of us there to look out for her is unthinkable to me. My
body tenses at the idea of something bad happening to her. Or hell, even someone just hurting her feelings. I can’t believe
Max said yes to letting her go that far away to college when perfectly good colleges exist right here in the same state.
“Dad,” Everly exclaims, her tall six-foot frame striding toward us. “Don’t you go blaming them for this . . . it was all my
idea!”
“That’s what I said,” Calder confirms with a guilty shrug toward Everly. “Sorry, kid, but one broken nose in my lifetime is enough.”
“You’re welcome for that,” Luke says with a smug grin. “Hi, Evie-girl.”
“Hi, Uncle Luke,” Everly says sweetly, then turns her attention to me, hitting me with those clear blue eyes I’d give my life
for. “Uncle Wyatt . . . don’t you be mad at Calder either. This was all me. You’re not having any luck finding a surrogate
in Denver. That agency clearly doesn’t see you for all that you are, or you would have been matched by now, so I think it’s
time you tried a new plan.”
“What plan?” I ask, feeling suddenly bone-tired at the idea of discussing this huge life-changing decision I’ve made with
my entire family . . . again. I’m already exhausted by this process, and I only had to jack off into a cup once so far to ensure that my swimmers are
good.
My boys are gold-medal swimmers . . . or so that old fertility doctor told me. But what’s not earning me any medals is having
to deal with my family’s fucking input during nearly every step of this process.
“I think I can find you a surrogate,” Everly says, her jaw taut with determination. “Someone who’s perfect for this job.”
“Evie,” I say, but she holds her hand up to shush me. So, I shush.
“Just give me one week,” she says, her youthful eyes flaring with so much grit I can’t help but root for her. “Next week is
my spring break, and I will interview the viable candidates who reply to the ad and see if anyone might be a good fit for
this project. I’m certain I can find you someone special you’ll never be able to say no to.”
I shake my head. “Everly, I have another appointment at that agency on Monday. I could find someone then.”
“Then we’ll cancel my plan, and this will all be for nothing. No biggie.”
“Everly,” Max expels under his breath. “Finding a surrogate for Uncle Wyatt is a very big deal. It’s real life, which is why
he’s going through the proper channels and trying to hire a professional from an agency. You’re too inexperienced to understand
all this.”
“Please, Dad,” Everly scoffs casually. “I’m not even a virgin.”
Calder screams. Literally screams. It echoes off the foothills, likely sending all the wildlife scrambling.
Luke stumbles and nearly drops to the ground, his shoulders rising and falling as he braces himself on his knees and pants
heavily, a look of disgust smeared across his face.
Max’s jaw drops with horror as he stammers with what to say back to that very unexpected bomb his only daughter just dropped.
And I remain frozen, begging for a time machine to take this moment away immediately. Or, better yet, go back in time to whoever
fucked my niece so I can kill that person before he has a chance to ever lay his eyes on her.
“Who is the fucker?” I rumble, my voice low and threatening. “Was it that Hilow prick who took you to prom last year? I thought
you two broke up.”
“We did,” Everly exclaims defensively.
“Oh, my God,” Max groans, looking like he’s going to be violently ill at any second.
“It was a one-night stand?” Calder coughs as he rakes his hands through his hair. “I knew I was a bad influence on you. I
never should have hung out with you so much. I’m a dirty, filthy, disgusting, rotten pig. I’m never having sex again. This
is my vow to—”
“Uncle Calder . . . get over yourself,” Everly drawls, her eyes rolling emphatically. “All of you, get over yourselves. This isn’t about me. It’s about Uncle Wyatt, who has dedicated so much of his life to making sure I was happy and loved and protected. Now it’s my turn to do something for him.”
My body stills with the weight of her words. Goddammit, when did she get so mature? The little girl we all helped raise is
gone, and I’m looking at a woman now. A strong, independent, headstrong woman who I am so proud of my heart could burst. I
turn around so she can’t see the tears forming in my eyes, my jaw clenching with humiliation over the power this teenager
has over me. It will kill me not to see her whenever I want next year.
Her footsteps are soft as she comes close and wraps her tiny manicured hands around my arm and rests her head on my shoulder.
She used to have to stand on my feet to dance with me. This is so fucked.
“I know I won’t be able to find you love, Uncle Wyatt. You’ve made it crystal clear that’s not what you want in life. But
please, let me be a part of helping you become a dad before I go.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek and whispers
in my ear, “Because I know you will make an amazing one.”
Well, fuck.
* * * * *