Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Evie
There was always going to be a time I had to share the nasty details of my story with this man and there was never going to be a moment when I wanted to.
But he’s just been vulnerable with me, more so than I expected, and I owe him.
More than that, I find I want to tell him.
Obviously, he knows Trevor is terrible because he’s marrying me.
And he must know at least some of the circumstances of my arriving here because he knows Jack helped me and that his own brother delivered Charlie, but he wants my version.
“You know a bit about Trevor.” Where do I even begin?
“I know that you needed Jack’s help to leave California, that Trevor and another man kidnapped you and Jack, and that after all is said and done, he’s still hurting you from afar.” His jaw flexes.
I don’t like talking through this, even though I’ve worked through my own feelings of it all to some degree, but the evidence of his disgust for Trevor spurs me on.
“He was never nice, but he had this magnetic energy. I’d known him a long time and I thought he was a hard worker, and his best friend was a police officer.
He was protective of me, he seemed to really want me, and he was faithful to me.
” What a laugh. “Until he wasn’t. And I had the audacity to question him about it. That was the first time he hurt me.”
I’ve never seen Declan so much as ruffled, but right now, he looks far from composed.
I don’t want this to drag on, so I rush through the rest. “Once he got started, he didn’t stop.
Even when I got pregnant. I was able to stay away from him better, worked a ton, and finally told a nurse at the OB clinic.
But I was afraid to get the police involved because he’d made a point of telling me they’d never believe me. I wish I hadn’t believed him.”
“You trusted him.” He speaks through gritted teeth.
“I did. And right when I would’ve pulled away, he promised he’d be different, he proposed, and that was the night I got pregnant.
Then I felt trapped. But that nurse helped me.
She talked me through who in my life might be able to help, and finally, I went to Louisa, Jack’s housekeeper.
I had no idea she’d go right to Jack.” I chuckle, thinking back on the absolute horror that doused me when she asked me to join her and Jack in a meeting.
“I was mortified, but do you know what Jack did?” Sometimes, I can’t believe it myself.
“What?”
“He apologized to me. Said he was sorry for not being more observant, for not asking me how I was. And of course, I wouldn’t have confessed to my celebrity employer that I was being hurt, but…” Emotion clogs my throat for a moment. “It helped that he didn’t make it my fault, you know?”
“Of course he didn’t. It’s not your fault. You know that, right?”
“I do. It took a while to accept it, but I do.” Counseling. Reading. Crying. But also looking at my son and knowing I needed to be healthy for him. That I couldn’t fall to pieces. I had to rebuild and start fresh, and thanks to Jack’s help and the people of Juniper View, I have.
“Good. Because you’re amazing.”
I can’t stifle a smile. He’s said something like this before, but it’s a thrill nonetheless. “Thanks.”
“What made you choose Juniper View instead of Silver Ridge?”
I take a drink of water to wash down another delicious bite of the dinner he made before answering.
“I wanted small. I’d been in LA forever and I loved Silver Ridge, but Jack took me around to a few places on the outskirts, and Juniper View had what we need.
A good family practice place for Charlie and more than one childcare option, cute businesses where I could see myself working, and… ”
“You can say whatever you want, Evie. I’m not going to judge you.”
I believe him. “Your brother made me feel safe. I mean, you know this better than most I guess, but having a baby in the middle of nowhere is an incredibly vulnerable situation. He was so steady and certain and encouraging. And I just thought, if that’s the way he was in a crisis, he must be a really good sheriff in other ways. ”
“He is. You’re right about that.”
I can’t read his expression or tone now, but I’m almost finished. “I found an apartment, and then I lucked out because Tammy wanted to retire early. I had been doing house cleaning for years, but I had also done some admin stuff for the company, and… Well, here I am.”
His gaze is steady on me. “Here you are.”
We stay locked in a stare for a beat. Then another.
“I’m glad I ended up here.”
“I am, too.”
I press my lips together so my face doesn’t explode in a smile.
“And now, Evie Hansen, I need to ask you something very serious.”
“Okay.” He’s so straight-faced, I honestly can’t tell if he’s joking, or if there’s more to discuss. Of course there is, but I’m ready for lighter fare for a bit.
“Do you like ice cream?”
A giggle escapes me. I am elated to report I do, and his response to this is to clear the plates, then pull out a container of very clearly homemade vanilla ice cream.
With it, he has more fresh peaches and a homemade raspberry sauce.
I am now certain his claim that he’s good at a few dishes is total fiction.
At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn he grew these peaches, too.
We take bowls of the ice cream out to eat on his back patio. It’s adorable, just like the rest of his home. There is a small stretch of grass where the playground sits, and the rest is graveled, or planted with what I’d just bet are sustainable water-saving plants.
“This is beautiful.” And despite being fairly close to downtown, quite peaceful. Though I guess that’s what happens when your downtown is Juniper View’s historic downtown and not inner-city LA.
“I spend a lot of time out here.”
We’re sitting on lounge chairs set on the stone-paved patio that faces the back of the yard and beyond it, the mountains that rise over Juniper View. When we drove here, I kept thinking we’d reached the pinnacle, but the farther up you go, the farther the mountains do, too.
“I can see why. It’s an incredible view.”
“I putter around in the garden, too. Keeps me busy for half the year, at least.” He shrugs like it’s a frivolous hobby and not demonstrably another skill. Every pot teems with happy blooms, and a raised bed to the right just past a large tree looks absolutely bursting with healthy plants.
I’m no farmer, but I don’t need to be to know Declan’s got a green thumb.
I stifle an audible groan when I taste the ice cream because good grief, it’s so much better than store-bought, and that raspberry sauce makes me want to kiss him.
Not that I need raspberry sauce to do that.
“Do you think you and Charlie could be comfortable here?”
This makes me swallow the bite I took whole. I gulp it down, eyes blinking rapidly at him. Thank goodness no brain freeze settled in.
“I know we haven’t discussed it, but I think we’ll need to move in together or people won’t believe we’re actually married.”
Idiot. How had I not thought of this? I mean yes, I was sitting here mooning over the house like it’d be a cozy room for three, but I didn’t actually think about the fact that married people live together because of course they do, you idiot!
“I—I hadn’t thought of that.” It sounds even more pathetic out loud.
“Did you have something else in mind?”
I’m already shaking my head. “No. But oh my gosh, I feel so stupid. And you can’t possibly want us invading your whole life.
I mean, Declan, this is too much. It’s not just on paper.
” I abandon my ice cream and shoot to my feet.
“Your family is throwing us a wedding. Your mom has been sending me pictures of flowers and food and bridesmaid dresses. And now we’re going to live with you? ”
He’s right with me when I turn.
“I’m ready. I understand if you need time. We can put my family off by a week or two so you—”
“No. I mean, if you are certain you’re ready, I can be, too.”
This is for Charlie, after all. I don’t need to remind myself of this, but obviously, I also do.
For my baby.
His expression is that same unreadable one he often has, but there’s a softness to it that makes my pounding heart want to flutter on top of everything else. He’s backlit by the bright orange and pink sunset sky, the mountains purple cutouts hulking farther on.
His lips part and draw my attention, but he doesn’t speak for a minute.
Then he clears his throat. “Why don’t I show you around the house? You can see where Charlie’s room will be.”
“Okay.”
He leads the way inside, then up one flight of stairs to a carpeted hallway with three doors. On the left is a bright bedroom with light blue paint that’s empty of everything else.
“This is Charlie’s room.” He walks in and snags a piece of bright blue tape off the windowsill, wandering around the space and inspecting it with those discerning eyes of his.
Then it clicks. “Wait, is that painter’s tape? Did you just paint this?”
Is it possible he’s painted this room for my son before we’re even married?
His jaw flexes, then he nods. “I know light blue is a bit cliché, but I was told it’s also a calming color. If you prefer something else, I—”
I grab his arm and halt his nonsense. “No, it’s perfect. I—” And then I go full tilt and hug him. I’m a tactile person and he’s just so deliciously sweet.
Forget ice cream. I’ll take a scoop of Declan Ryan, please and thank you.
My arms wrap around his waist and I hug him close. It’s a lot for us, but it’s not completely new. “This is so kind of you. It’ll be perfect.”
One of his warm palms slides up the length of my spine and rests between my shoulder blades.
“I want you both to feel at home here.”
His large hand feels utterly decadent there. The only thing that would make it better would be if I could feel the press of his rough palm against my skin instead of my shirt.
But that line of thinking is not a good idea.
I squeeze him once more, then ease back, wary of overstepping and then holding him hostage.
“Thank you so much.” I can’t get enough of his face. His eyes. That handsome jaw calling to my hands and lips demanding to be traced and studied.
It’d be for science, I swear.
I pace away because whoa, mama, the train has left the station on this one. Something about our evening together talking about our pasts, planning to move in together, and then the deadly combination of him feeding me delicious food he made and being so thoughtful in preparing for us to move in?
It has unleashed the inner hussy in me and the man she wants is her fiancé. Her soon-to-be husband. All things considered, that isn’t terrible news, except the part where we don’t have a relationship.
I won’t survive being so close to him while full on his delicious food in this lovely home if I keep thinking about that, so I focus on where he gestures to the next room.
One door over from Charlie’s room opens to a bathroom with a bathtub, toilet, a vanity with sink, and he’s a fool if he thinks I don’t notice there’s a little mesh basket suctioned to the tile of the tub filled with bath toys.
Maybe they’re for his nieces but somehow, I doubt it.
I haven’t heard Sam talk about the girls staying anywhere other than the grandparents’ house, and these all look like baby things, anyway.
By the time I reach door number three, I’m practically a walking heaving bosom. It’s ridiculous, but here I am, chest, cheeks, and neck flushed, and mind absolutely scattered to the winds.
Inside, there’s a queen-sized bed with a deep green duvet and bright white sheets placed on a rug with blacks, grays, tans, and whites in an ornate pattern that sits over hardwood floors.
It’s both masculine and earthy, and incredibly inviting.
There are blond wood accents along with the bed frame, side tables, and a sizable dresser that looks antique.
There’s nothing on the walls here, either, except one large black-and-white photograph on a far wall I can’t quite see since I’m perpendicular to it now.
Across from the photo at the back of the room, there are two doors I assume lead to a bathroom and a closet, plus an overstuffed chair in a little nook that extends out and is surrounded by windows.
There’s a lamp, a potted plant, plus I can see a pair of glasses and a book on the table.
It’s a beautiful room that looks so pleasant and restful.
“This is your room?” I ask as I turn back to him.
He’s right there, standing in the doorway with me. We’re only an inch or two apart, and maybe I should step away, but I don’t. I catch his clean, masculine scent mingled with a touch of the grill from his time outside and it sends my logical mind packing.
What would he do if I leaned closer? If I closed the gap between us and pressed against him? Pressed my lips against him?
“It is.” His gaze hooks into mine as we both breathe, chests visibly rising and falling if someone were standing to the side watching us. Then he adds, “It can be yours, too, if you like.”