Chapter Fourteen
Tyler
If someone wanted to see a definition of a man who was all in, Jase Hatcher was it.
He hunched on a plastic chair in my OB’s exam room, denim-clad knee jittering, his gaze on the model of different embryonic stages by week. “It’s still really small.”
“Well, yeah.” Paper crinkled under me on the table. I swung my feet, bouncing my heels against the metal table in a light tattoo. “It’s early.”
Still the first trimester. I could think about how we might have waited until the second to get married, once we were past the miscarriage-risk point, but more and more I was convinced the baby wasn’t why we were married. My pregnancy had been the impetus for our decision, sure.
But overall? This marriage was about us.
After a soft knock, Dr. Wade bustled in with her wide smile, followed by Vicki, my favorite of her nurses, who’d already weighed me, checked my blood pressure, and drawn vials of blood . “Tyler, so good to see you. I hear you’re seeing us about a baby?”
“Yes.” Struck by uncharacteristic shyness with the woman who’d been my doctor since I was sixteen, I slanted a half-smile at Jase. “This is my husband, Jase Hatcher.”
“Oh, hello.” She shook Jase’s hand as he stood with a low nice to meet you.
Dr. Wade peered at my printouts over her glasses.
“Yes, I do see a name and status change here. Okay, then. Well, your bloodwork and blood pressure look good. So we’re doing a pap smear and a transvaginal ultrasound so we can see what we can see, all right? ”
“Yes, ma’am.” Familiar with the pap smear drill at least, I scooted to the edge of the table and slotted my feet in the stirrups with Vicki’s help.
“Couple of fingers and I’m going to palpate your abdomen.
” Adjusting the light and sheet, Dr. Wade launched into the familiar narration, and I smothered a giggle at Jase’s wide eyes.
Amusement almost drowned out the pinch of the speculum when the skin around his mouth went white while Dr. Wade swabbed for the smear.
An arm crossed over his belly, he propped his elbow on his wrist and covered his mouth. I smirked as Dr. Wade withdrew the speculum. Men really had no clue.
“Okay, so this may feel a little weird.” Vicki slid a lubricated condom on the ultrasound wand. “You tell me if it gets too intense.”
The sensation was odd, but not painful. His fist over his mouth, Jase blew out a breath even as images flickered to life on the large screen on the screen. I winced a little as Vicki adjusted the wand, and Jase stepped forward, taking my hand.
“Hmm. All right. That’s good.” Dr. Wade murmured as Vicki tapped on the keyboard, capturing image after image, the unmistakable shape of a baby in the yawning black oval
“Look at that,” Jase breathed, staring slack-jawed at the screen. “It has arms.”
“It does.” Dr. Wade and Vicki exchanged a warm look. Dr. Wade circled her fingertip on the screen around a flickering light. “And a nice, strong heartbeat.”
“Sweet Lord,” Jase whispered, fingers tightening around mine. I squeezed back, emotion sitting on my chest. We really were having a baby.
According to Dr. Wade, everything looked good, and after we’d set up an appointment for the following month, we stepped into the warm spring sunshine.
Jase stared at the sonogram printout in his palm, then folded it with reverent hands and tucked the image into his wallet.
In his truck, we both sent quick texts to our mothers.
“Let’s go downtown.” Jase laid his phone in the console. “Get you something to eat. Walk a little.”
“Don’t you need to go back to work?” Planting season was in full swing, so his days were long and he was always in a field somewhere.
“Took the afternoon off.” His smile as he looked at me was unbearably sweet. “Y’all are important.”
Speechless, I watched him navigate the streets between Dr. Wade’s office and the parking lot behind the fire station downtown. I was important to Mama Nancy, to Marilyn and Maggie, but I’d never been important like this before, like he looked at me and saw everything he wanted.
I didn’t quite know what to do with that.
As we walked toward Broad Street, passing the whimsical metal bicycle racks shaped like hunting dogs, he laid an arm along my waist. We skipped the pool hall chili dogs, which were the best, because neither of us were sure if hot dogs were good for the baby, but the Mexican place offered chicken and vegetables and the most amazing guacamole ever.
After, we walked hand in hand until his face lit up as we came along Mary Madison, the boutique’s windows full of tiny clothes.
I laughed as he tugged me inside. “We don’t know what it is, Jase.”
“So?” He held up a white outfit from the table just inside the door. “This is okay for either.”
He was excited like a little kid at Christmas. I remembered that feeling from being three or four maybe, before I learned that Christmas wasn’t for everyone. A chill shivered over me at the memories of bedroom after bedroom, dark nights, full of being scared and alone.
He’d had those kinds of holidays, though, the ones with bright Christmas trees and cookies and warm mornings with gifts and hugs. And he’d make sure our baby had them. He’d help me craft holidays like that. We’d be a family.
With that small white gown draped over his tanned forearm, he rifled through a stack of tiny sleepers. He added one in yellow, another in green, then grinned at a white one with tiny yellow ducks scattered over it.
My mouth twisted. “Jase, I don’t think we need all that.”
“Not yet, but we will. You wouldn’t believe how often Kaydee needed to be changed at the beginning.” He dangled a white sleeper with a green tractor appliqued on the front from one long finger. His mouth quirked, eyes gleaming with good humor. “Look at that.”
I reached for the tiny garment, the cotton incredibly soft. Babies were this small?
A hint of foreboding trickled down my spine. What was I doing? What did I know about being a mom? A wife?
And here I was, jumping into both.
Closing my eyes, I sucked in a breath while counting to four, held it a moment, then exhaled while I counted to seven, a trick I’d taken from the counselor I’d seen all through high school.
Okay, I knew children needed love and stability.
I could do that. I was stable with my friends, so I could be stable with my baby.
And Jase was the steadiest man I’d ever known.
I’d learned not to be angry and reactive. I could learn all the practicalities of mothering. I had resources.
The wife part . . .?
Well, that might be a problem.
“What are you thinking about so hard?”
My eyes flew open, and he grinned. He tapped the corner of his mouth. “You get this little twitch, right here, when your brain gets going. Damn cute. Makes me think of a rabbit chewing on something.”
A rabbit.
I was going to harm him.
My face must have said it – I rarely kept a poker face with him – and his grin widened, gaze soft with affection, before a low laugh rumbled from his throat.
Wrapping warm fingers around my wrist, he tugged me closer, pressed a kiss to the corner of my lips, then rested his forehead on mine. A hint of his spicy aftershave wafted over me while I stared into blue eyes so close the dark fringe of his lashes blurred. His body heat wrapped me in security.
“I love you.”
I froze. His body stiffened, eyes wide and startled, as surprised as I was by the words that had fallen with his quiet chuckle.
“What?” I took a step back, but he didn’t release me.
He stared at me, then blinked before a grin spread over his face. “I love you.”
Something like wonder, like being three or four and still believing in Christmas, spread through me. I swallowed. “You don’t. It’s the baby.”
“Don’t tell me what I feel. I do. It’s kinda new, but it’s there. And we’ll nurture it, and it’ll grow.”
Lips parted, I stared at him. How was I supposed to argue with that?
He circled his index finger over the soft sleeper I clutched and the ones I held. “I’m buying all this. A steady investment in what we’ll need, starting today.”
I watched him lope to the register, his words echoing.
He loved me.
A steady investment in what we’ll need.
A small voice deep inside whispered he was talking about more than baby purchases.
He was good at painting, the kind I didn’t like, rolling a soft, blurred ivory on the walls in the bedroom we’d picked out for the baby.
I sat cross-legged with my small easel, working on a watercolor to frame for the room.
I could work in the living room or even in the sunroom where the light was amazing, but I wanted to be where he was.
I was safe enough with him that I could relax and give into the urge.
He’d proven himself to be steady, to be everything I hadn’t even realized I needed.
So when we were home, I was usually where he was, fiddling with the herb garden if he was in the yard, trying to learn if he was working on the small renovations we’d started, drooling over the way his muscles moved while he ran the weedeater or swung a hammer or ran a paintroller over the walls.
His forearms flexed with the paint roller the same way they did when he braced and thrust into me.
A little flutter of desire uncurled low in my belly. That wasn’t new either. I wanted him, all the time.
Unsurprisingly, he was okay with that.
“You sure you don’t want blue?”
I allowed cerulean to puddle on the paper. “I’m sure.”
Our early DNA test showed no genetic anomalies . . . and a son. But in my head, his room was soft, gentle, constant.
Like his daddy.
I envisioned ivory walls with the hardwoods and a rug in hushed blues and greens, so we’d picked out paint and ordered a rug from the home decor place downtown.
I was painting him a woodland pool, blue and green, a little brown, some lilypads, and a few tall trees to shelter him the way the men in his life would.
Jase. Mr. John. Mr. Lewis.
My boy would have more than a father.
And he did have a father who sheltered me so I could learn what I hadn’t known until Mama Nancy.
“That looks good.” Placing the roller in the tray, he leaned down to kiss me, then sprawled on his side next to me, easy and relaxed in gray sweats and a black t-shirt. Somehow, he’d managed to stay completely paint free.
“I like it.” The piece was my third attempt. Not perfect, but real. Intention and calm.
Like us.
“You could put a deer right here.” His fingertip danced over a subtle shadow under one of the trees. The corner of his mouth quirked up, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “And Grandaddy over there with his rifle–”
“No.” I nudged my elbow into his belly. The lean muscle didn’t give.
Smirking, he jerked his chin to the wall he’d just painted, where the crib would go. “Then we could hang a rack right there–”
“No.” My withering look had zero effect on him, like always. “We are not hanging dead animal parts in our little boy’s room.”
“You realize our little boy is going to bring a deer home one day.”
“We’ll talk about it.” I was still getting used to the idea of a baby and here he was talking about a little boy old enough to learn to hunt.
I didn’t have enough context to frame that yet.
But that little boy I couldn’t imagine had a daddy who could. He’d do more than teach him how to hunt. He’d love and nurture and hold him steady and safe.
With this man, I wouldn’t have to worry about my baby.
My little boy.
“You’re thinking hard again.” He tapped the corner of my lips, dropped a fast kiss there, then rolled to his feet in a series of slow easy movements that took my breath.
He took my breath.
I love you pressed up in my throat, surprising me. Choking me. I didn’t just give those words away. They belonged to Mama Nancy, to Maggie, to Marilyn.
Now to my baby.
And to Jase.
Saying them should be easy. He’d repeated them after that moment following my OB appointment, the two of us in a shop surrounded by baby clothes. And not just in bed, but when we parted ways, when he came home, at random moments of our daily lives.
I believed him.
Still, they stuck, a lump in my throat blocking them.
“You okay?” Concern glinting in his blue eyes, he frowned.
I nodded.
I couldn’t say it yet, but maybe soon. He’d understand. He did understand. He never rushed me, simply stood beside me, supported me. Loved me, the way I loved him. I forced a breath into my lungs.
We had time.
And I could show him.