Let me love you, p.12
Let Me Love You, page 12
“I don’t want Eleanor,” I repeat, softer. My exhaustion battles my frustration until my vision blurs. “I don’t. I want us. I want our future. I want everything we’ve dreamed of. Everything we’ve planned.”
“Our plans went out the window as soon as Jaxon came into the picture.”
“Don’t say that,” I seethe, and she jerks back at the animosity in my voice.
“You’re right,” she whispers. “They aren’t gone or anything, but they have changed, Colt. You have to see it.”
“Why do they need to change?”
“Because you have a baby. It’s a pretty big curveball, Colt. All I’m saying is it needs to be taken into account.”
“And I’m taking it into account with you,” I grit out. “I don’t want to hear any of this bullshit about me giving Eleanor a chance.”
“She’s the mother of your child,” Ash reminds me. “You know what it’s like to live without a father in your home. I can’t be the reason your little boy grows up the same way. It isn’t fair.”
“Don’t say shit like that,” I order. I throttle the steering wheel with all my strength, my patience slipping more and more with every word spoken between us.
“Just because it isn’t what you want to hear doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to say it.”
“I don’t want Eleanor,” I repeat.
“I believe you, Colt. I do, but…” Again, her voice trails off, and she closes her eyes. As if this is killing her.
“But what?” I demand.
“That little boy deserves you and his mother in his life. Deserves parents who are present, unlike how mine were. At the very least, he deserves you to think about it. To think about mending your relationship with his mom. To give the idea of a real, happy family a shot.”
“Why are you doing this?” Defeat settles in my chest, making it hard to breathe. “Why are you pushing me on this?”
“Because I know you, Colt. I saw the way you looked at Jaxon.”
“We don’t even know if he’s mine or not.”
“I think we both know what you just spouted is a bunch of bullshit,” she argues as if her frustration is finally getting the best of her. A single tear slips down her pale cheek, and she wipes at it angrily. “He’s yours, and Eleanor had to twist your arm to hold him.”
“I feel guilty, all right?” I snap.
And fuck, it hurts. The pain in her voice. The tightness in my own. But I don’t know what she wants me to say. This entire situation is so messed up I can’t even wrap my head around it, let alone figure out what the hell I’m going to do to fix it. To make things okay. With Ash and me. With Jaxon and me. I should’ve been there. From the beginning. I should’ve held him. Woke up with him in the middle of the night. I should know everything about him. What he likes to play. What he likes to eat. Does he have a favorite show? Is it Winnie the Pooh? There are so many questions, but I don’t have any answers. Not for a single one of them.
“I wasn’t there, Ash,” I mutter. My guilt rises with every passing second as I stare at the expanse of road in front of us. “I wasn’t there for him for the first year of his life. What kind of father does it make me?”
“You thought he was nothing more than a rumor. You didn’t know—”
“I knew.”
Her breath hitches. The sound cuts through the tense air like a knife.
“What?” she whispers.
“In my gut, I knew, Ash. When someone told me about him, I knew.” The words feel like an oozing sore. Infected. Painful. Disgusting. But almost cleansing too. Like the building pressure from the last few months since I first heard about him has finally burst, relieving it.
When Ash stays quiet, too shocked to respond, I clear my throat and force myself to continue. “It was someone who knew about the drama at Dixie Tech and why I transferred to LAU. They mentioned Eleanor had a kid, and I’d abandoned him, Ash. I—” The words catch in my throat, and I shake my head.
Her touch is gentle as she reaches over the center console and squeezes my knee. “You were scared. And you made a mistake. We all make mistakes, Colt. But Jaxon deserves what’s best for him. Not what’s best for you or for me. You need to ask what’s best for the little boy who looks so much like his father it hurts. That’s all I’m saying.”
My jaw tenses. “I’m not gonna lose you.”
“Listen to me,” she pleads.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and let our eyes meet, waiting.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promises. “I love you more than anything. And you being a dad is by no means a dealbreaker. Especially when he’s as adorable as Jaxon. Like seriously, my heart. I can’t handle it.” She clutches at her chest with a sad laugh, and it guts me. But her words sober. “I…I need you to take a step back and really look at your little boy’s future.”
I hesitate, my molars grinding.
“How do you want it to look, Colt?” she prods. “Do you want him to grow up splitting his time between his parents? Growing up with half-siblings when there’s a possibility he could have full ones if I was out of the picture?” Her lower lip trembles, and she closes her eyes. “Fuck, Colt. You have no idea how much it kills me to even say it out loud.”
I pull over onto the side of the road and hang my head, my sorrow getting the best of me. Because this is my fault. It's my fault she’s put in this position. It's my fault she has to consider a life without me all because she wants Jaxon to have the best childhood possible. It's my fault she looks like she wants to cry. It's my fault she has every right to.
“Don’t say shit like that, Sunshine.”
“I’m only trying to help you see this from an unbiased perspective,” she murmurs, squeezing my thigh one more time and placing her hand back in her own lap. “If I were out of the picture, would you give Eleanor a chance? That’s all I want to know.”
“I love you, Ash—”
“I know you do,” she interrupts. The same sad yet encouraging smile mars her pretty face. “And trust me when I say I love you more than anything else in the world. But I can’t sign up for this, knowing I might be the reason behind a little boy’s future being less than perfect. And I’m not sure I can live with the guilt.”
Like a knife to the chest, my lungs struggle to inflate, and I rub at my sternum, praying I’m jumping to conclusions. Praying we’ll get through this.
“So what are you saying?” I ask numbly.
“I dunno. I dunno what I’m saying.” She wipes beneath her red-rimmed eyes, then rubs the moisture from her tears on her jeans. “I think I’m saying I want you to take a step back and reevaluate everything before we move forward. And I won’t hate you no matter what your decision is. I promise. But if there was ever a reason to pause and reevaluate our relationship, I think this one is it. Don’t you?”
“I love you, Ash,” I repeat. Because I don’t know what else there is to say. Do I like Eleanor? Yeah. I think she’s a good person. I think she’s a great mom. But do I love her? No.
But could I? For Jaxon?
Fuck.
I don’t want to.
19
MACKLIN
Kate’s been tense since her doctor’s appointment. I don’t know why, but I’m not a fool. I can see it. Feel it. Taste it. The distance. The way she’s distracted. Like she’s somewhere else, even when we’re in the same room.
It scares the shit out of me.
Even now, with the morning light kissing her skin, I don’t think she’s noticed me. Too busy lost in her thoughts. She’s sitting on the front porch step, staring absently in front of her with a mug of coffee pressed to her lips. Her hair is braided down her back, and she’s wearing the same clothes she slept in. My clothes.
I think she likes it out here. The birds chirping in the trees. The soft breeze.
“Gonna have to buy you a rocking chair or porch swing,” I tell her.
She turns toward me and smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Making room beside her, she scoots to her right and pats the space with her hand. “The step works just fine.”
“Why settle for fine when you could have something better?” I walk toward her and sit down, stretching my legs out in front of us. The concrete steps are warm from the morning sun, and I bask in the light, enjoying the comfortable silence. “You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
Her eyes widen above the brim of her mug, and she clears her throat. “What?”
“I’m not stupid, Kate. Something’s bothering you.”
“Mack.” She says my name like it’s a plea.
“Is something wrong with your medication? Did your neurologist suggest we switch things up again? What’s wrong?”
“My medication is fine.”
“Then, why have you been acting like this?”
“Like what?”
“So…” I shake my head. “Detached. Is it because I’ll be traveling? Is it nerves from starting the new internship? Talk to me.”
She presses the mug to her lips, takes a small sip, and pulls them between her teeth. “It’s everything,” she finally mutters. “Ashlyn and Colt. The internship. You traveling.”
“Is that all?” I push.
Her thumb rubs against the front of her mug. The words, World’s Greatest Dad are scrawled across the front in thick, blocky letters. Miley and Hazel gave it to me for Father’s day when they were little. The contents inside grab my attention. It’s lighter than coffee. Clearer than her usual creamer-filled morning treat.
I steal the mug from her and take a sip, pulling it away and letting the tea seep into my taste buds. My brow cocks. “Ginger?”
“Yeah.”
“Since when do you drink ginger tea?”
She shrugs but takes the cup back, sipping once more.
“Kate, what’s going on?” I demand. “Do you need a night off? A break from everything?”
A shuddered laugh pierces her numb facade, and she shakes her head, turning back to the forest in front of us. “I wish I could take a break from everything.”
“Then, let’s do it. Let me take you out. Let me help give you a breather.”
“Mack, I’m pregnant.”
My muscles turn into steel, convinced I’ve heard her wrong. “What?”
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t acknowledge me. But there’s a slight tremble in her hands as she brings the cup to her lips again. She’s scared.
Fuck, she’s scared.
I take the mug from her grasp, set it on the porch behind us, and force her to look at me. Glassy eyes meet mine as I rub my thumb along her cheek. “Are you scared because you don’t want a baby, or are you scared because of how I’ll react?”
Her eyes close for the briefest of seconds as she leans into my touch. Pinning me with her gaze, her gray irises are stormier than ever.
“The second one.” She hesitates. “And the first, kind of. Not that I don’t want a baby. I do. But this wasn’t the plan, ya know?”
“Technically, falling for you wasn’t the plan, either, Kate, and it was one of the best surprises I’ve ever received.” I rest my forehead against hers as she closes her eyes again, her soft, unsteady breath caressing my jaw.
“I’m scared,” she whispers.
“Why are you scared?”
“What if my medicine messes with him, and he’s born with a birth defect? What if I can’t be left alone with him? Or if I can’t give him baths because he could drown under my watch? What if I have a seizure while holding him, and he gets hurt?” Her eyes open. They’re filled with unshed tears. “I’m a ticking time bomb, Macklin.”
“Sh…” My heart fucking shatters. But I can’t take it. The pain in her voice. The weight she’s carrying. The knowledge and how much it’s been killing her.
“Tell me again, Porcupine,” I urge.
She closes her eyes.
“Tell me we’re gonna have a baby.”
Another shaky breath slips past her lips, but she opens her eyes, forcing herself to hold my gaze no matter how terrified she is. And she is terrified. She’s shaking. And I swear I can hear her racing heart.
“We’re gonna have a baby, Macklin,” she whispers.
A grin spreads wide across my face, practically splitting it in two. I slam my mouth against hers. She tastes like ginger and Kate. I thread my fingers through the hair at the back of her neck, not giving a shit if I mess up her braid. The damp strands ground me as I tilt her head back and devour her whole.
Because shit. The emotions rolling through me are like a hurricane. Chaotic and messy. But as I pull away from her and rest my forehead against hers once more, those stormy gray eyes meet mine, and I know it’s gonna be okay. I know we’re gonna be okay. And I know our baby is gonna be okay. Because she’s gonna be the best fucking mom a kid could ask for. We’re gonna have a little piece of me and Kate Winchester walking around this place.
“Will you marry me, Kate?” I rasp.
Her breath hitches. “What?”
“I wanna marry you. I wanna make more babies with you. I wanna call you mine for the rest of my life.”
“Stop,” she begs. “Don’t ask me that.”
I pull back, surprised by the pain in her voice. “What?”
“Don’t ask me when you’re feeling obligated—”
“Stop.” The word hangs in the air for a long second.
“Mack, you’ve already proposed to one girl all because she was pregnant. I’m not going to let you—”
“Wait here,” I order.
I push to my feet and jog inside, searching in the cabinet above the fridge since Kate’s short frame would never dream of looking in here. When I find what I’m looking for, I turn around and rush back to Kate outside. After taking the porch steps two at a time, I fall to one knee on the pavement beneath the stairs and peer up at the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her lips are parted and swollen from our kiss as she stares down at me on one knee.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“I was always excited to be a dad,” I tell her. “Even when I found out Hazel was coming all those years ago. But I never wanted to be a husband until this moment. You’re right, Kate. My first marriage might’ve been out of obligation. But this? You and me? I wanted this before I found out you’re pregnant. Before I pictured a crib in the guest bedroom and toys sprawled out in the family room by the fireplace. I bought this ring after your graduation and debated whether to give it to you then or if I should stick with the Jeep.” Her hand covers her mouth as I smirk up at her. “We both know which one I decided on. But it wasn’t because I didn’t want to ask. It wasn’t because I didn’t know if you were my forever. It was because I didn’t want to freak out your parents when we’d only been dating for a few months.”
A light laugh slips out of her, and she rolls her eyes.
“I love you, Kate. And we both know I don’t play games.” I hold up the little blue Tiffany box and open the lid, showcasing the engagement ring I bought long before I found out we were gonna have a baby together. “Marry me.”
Her hands tremble as she takes the ring, dragging her finger along the edge of the square-cut diamond and thin, white gold band. But her expression is unreadable. Locked down. Impenetrable. Like when we first met. When she felt the need to keep her feelings close to her chest. When she was most vulnerable. Most breakable.
I set the empty teal box beside her hip on the porch and cradle both sides of her face, praying she can see my sincerity and my need to make her mine. “Marry me, Porcupine. Be my wife. Please.”
“Blue. Blue. Blue.” The hushed words fan against my cheeks as her chin dips in the tiniest of nods, and a smile stretches across her face, making her more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her. And fuck me if I’m not the luckiest man alive.
“Is that a yes, Kate?”
“That’s a yes, Mack.”
My heart gallops, and I kiss her again. It's more teeth than lips this time. But I can’t stop smiling. This. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. To love someone. To be engaged to someone. To tie your future to someone.
Excitement. Anticipation. Peace.
My grin broadens, and I kiss the tip of her nose. “I love you, Kate.”
“I love you, Mack.”
I press another kiss to her lips, feeling like I’m on top of the world. Because I am. I’m on top of the world. I get to marry Kate Winchester. I get a second chance. When I pull away, I chuckle dryly and shake my head, a surreal feeling flooding my system as my mind catches up with this morning’s turn of events. “I’m gonna be a dad again.”
“Mm-hmm,” she hums.
“You’re gonna be a mom.”
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head like she can’t believe it, either. “I know.”
“You nervous?”
Her smile falters. “Scared out of my freaking mind.”
I laugh and kiss her again. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”
“And the whole epilepsy portion of things?” she challenges. The same overwhelming vulnerability shines in her gray eyes.
“We’ll get through it,” I promise. “We’ll get through anything. Together.”
“Together,” she repeats, letting the words ease the nerves buzzing through her system. Her smile returns to full force. “I love you, Mack.”
“Love you too, Kate.”
20
MIA
The band is killing it on the stage. They’re not Broken Vows, but they’re pretty good. Alternative rock with a dash of blues. My head bobs up and down with the beat as I wipe out a freshly-washed glass with a clean towel when someone approaches me at the bar.
If it isn’t the devil himself.
“Hello again, Professor,” I greet him. “Two trips to SeaBird in one week?”
“It’s been a tough one,” he grumbles.
“You know, if you lost the suit, you might not stick out like a sore thumb around here.”
“Yeah.” He looks down at his dark, fitted suit making him look like a GQ model. As he smooths down the rich fabric, light reflects off the Rolex wrapped around his sexy wrist and catches my attention. I didn’t know wrists could be sexy, but with the dapple of dark hair and veins popping along the top of his hand, I stand corrected. Not surprising since the man was voted the sexiest bachelor alive prior to his girlfriend taking him off the market. If that isn’t an accomplishment, I don’t know what is.
