by Nikki Ash
“Then why would you treat your kids the way your mom treated you? Nevaeh’s tried for so long to be the perfect daughter, to live up to your ridiculous expectations, meanwhile, you of all people know firsthand about not being perfect and being exiled and punished for it.”
“I know,” she sobs. “I know it’s my fault. I just didn’t want my children to live with the pain and regret I had to live with. I tried to make sure they would never be in the position to make the same mistakes I made.”
“By making them live with guilt and judgment? By making them feel like they weren’t ever enough? Nevaeh deserves to know everything.”
“You’re right,” she says. “I know you are. I just wished I had realized it sooner, before I lost Stephen.”
“Well, you haven’t lost your daughter yet. But if you don’t tell her the truth, you will… Nevaeh deserves to live, and I’m going to make sure, even though I don’t deserve her, she lives and loves and is happy.”
Nevaeh
The first thing I hear when I come to are monitors beeping. I must be in a hospital… Why am I in a hospital? I try to think back to the last thing I can remember, but everything is fuzzy. And then it hits me.
Meeting with my dad and mom.
My mom storming out.
Texting Rosco.
Felix kidnapping me and stuffing me in a trunk.
My brain feeling like it was going to explode and then me blacking out.
Does the beeping mean I’m alive? Have I been sold? Did Ethan find me?
The only way to find out is to open my eyes. With great strength, I wrench my eyes open and look around. Ethan is sitting in a recliner, his head back, and his eyes closed, sleeping. And he’s never looked as beautiful as he does right now.
I clear my throat and his head pops up, his red-rimmed eyes flying open. “Angel,” he breathes, standing and cutting across the room to my side. “You’re awake, baby.”
I nod, my voice too scratchy to speak.
“Here, have some water.” He pours some into a glass and helps me take a sip. “We’ve all been so worried about you,” he says, dragging a chair over to sit next to me. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”
When my eyes go wide, he explains how I was found on the side of the road and was brought in. I suffered a concussion and some brain bleeding, and it took a little longer than they thought for the swelling to go down, but it finally did, which is why they woke me up.
“Oh, Nevaeh!” My mom comes barreling into the room and envelops me in a hug. “You’re awake.”
Tears stream down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done. I love you.”
“Mom,” I choke out. “What’s going on?”
“I have so much I need to tell you,” she says. “I should’ve told you a long time ago.”
“Let’s give her a few minutes,” Ethan says.
I expect her to argue, but she just nods.
Ethan stands, so she can sit, and he goes out to get the nurse to check me out. After she asks me a few questions, she tells me the doctor will be in shortly to assess me further.
“I’m going to let you two talk,” Ethan says, kissing my forehead. To my mom, he says, “I won’t be far. Don’t stress her out.”
My mom nods in understanding and then Ethan walks out, leaving us alone.
“Your brother was right,” she says. “I did write in my journal I was pregnant by a man I didn’t know, only it wasn’t your brother I was pregnant with.” She waits for what she’s said to soak in and then she continues, and for the next however long, I listen as my mom tells me the entire story. When she’s done, we’re both crying and she’s apologizing for the millionth time.
When she pulls back from hugging me—again—my gown is moved. Her eyes land on my tattoo and I hold my breath, waiting for her wrath.
“Live hard. Love Harder.” Her lips curl in a sad smile.
“Stephen said it to me before he died.”
She nods once thoughtfully. “It was written on the front of my journal. I read it once in a poem and it stuck with me. That’s beautiful.”
I let out a breath. “Thank you. I got it to remember Stephen.”
“I don’t necessarily agree with tattooing yourself permanently,” she says, in the tone I know too well. “But if you’re going to do something crazy, I’m glad it at least has meaning.”
I smile, knowing that took a lot for her to say.
“Good morning, Mrs. Romero.” Dr. Bromfield walks in. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” I’m still slightly confused as to how I got here, but that can wait until later. All that matters is somehow I got away from Felix and am safe in the hospital.
“Good to hear.” He checks a couple things on the monitors. “Since you’re here and stable and have already been prepped, I would like to do the surgery. What do you think?”
I think that I’m so grateful to be alive, I’d like to stay that way… And since the only way to do that is to have this surgery, I might as well get it over with.
Before I can even speak, though, Ethan steps into the room. “Nevaeh, please,” he begs, walking over and taking my hand in his. “You have to have this surgery. I can’t lose you.”
“I’m going to give you two a moment,” the doctor says, slipping out.
“I’ll be right outside,” Mom adds.
Ethan opens his mouth, about to continue, but I bring my fingers to his lips. “Shh… my turn.” He nods.
“These last few months with you have been nothing short of amazing. Because of your strength and warmth, I finally felt safe enough to live, and even if this is all I get, I know what it’s like to live and love to the fullest.”
“This isn’t it,” he mumbles from behind my fingers.
“But if it is… I need you to know how much you changed my life. And if for whatever reason I don’t wake up, I need you to promise me you won’t stop living again.”
“No.”
“Yes,” I argue. “You will find someone to love. You have such a big heart and it would be a waste for it to not be used. Let someone in, just like you let me in, and love with all of your being. Promise me.”
“Nevaeh, please,” he pleads, sounding more like a scared little boy than the strong man I know him to be.
“My beautiful, sweet husband.” I cup his face. “I love you so much. I couldn’t have faced any of this without you.”
“You’re in here because of me,” he murmurs.
“No, I’m in here because of Logan and Felix. I meant I couldn’t have dealt with my tumor without you.”
“Yes, you could’ve.” His hand cups mine, and he turns it around and kisses the inside of my palm. “You’re so strong, Angel. So damn strong.”
“Because of you.” I look him in the eyes. “You make me less afraid. You once said that you were lost and by meeting me, you found your way back. The same is true for me.” I bring our entwined hands to my lips and kiss them. “Even before I lost my brother, I was stumbling around, trying to find my way. There was only a tiny shred of light—enough I could see, but not enough to find my way. And when I lost him… that little bit of light extinguished, and I was left in the dark.”
I glance down at our hands—his strong to my delicate. “I lost my faith, but more than that, I lost myself. And it was through your light I was able to find my way back. Don’t you see, Ethan? We are each other’s beacons.”
He sniffles back a sob, trying so hard to remain strong for me. “Which is why I need you to make it through this surgery.”
“And I plan to. But if it doesn’t go our way, if God’s plan doesn’t match ours, please know that I will be looking down on you from heaven. I will always be with you, being your light.”
“My angel,” he says softly.
“Your angel.”
Ethan
Six Years Later
“Daddy, do all the people who go to heaven come here?” My daughter, Angelina, points to the tombston
e where I just laid a fresh set of flowers.
“They do,” I tell her, taking her into my arms. “Maybe not here, but they get buried somewhere.”
“How do they get to heaven then?” Her twin sister, Angelica, asks, pointing to the blue cloudless sky.
“Your body doesn’t actually go to heaven,” I explain. “Your soul does.”
Both girls scrunch their button noses up, and I chuckle. They’re too young to understand, but when I told them I was coming here, they asked to go, and since Nevaeh looked like she could use a little bit of a break, I agreed to let them tag along.
Angelina and Angelica are four-year-old twins Nevaeh and I adopted in the Dominican Republic when we went there to visit. After her surgery—where the doctor told us he was able to successfully remove the entire mass—she spent a few months in bed healing. Once she got cleared, she told me she wanted to travel and find ways to help. We spent a few months traveling to different countries and ended up in the Dominican Republic, where my mother mentioned there was an orphanage that could use Nevaeh’s touch. She spent the next two months volunteering there. She became attached to the girls, who at the time were only one year old. Their mother had abandoned them when she found out both girls were born with a heart defect and would need heart surgery.
Nevaeh took one look at them and knew she needed them to be ours. And I agreed. When we were told their names, it only cemented they were meant to be in our lives. I went to the Dominican Republic with one angel and left with three.
Four surgeries later, and they are healthy and perfect and ours.
“It’s a special part of your body that goes to heaven.” I point to their hearts.
“Mommy says my heart is special,” Angelina says. “Will it go to heaven?”
“Not for a really long time.” I bring my fingers to my lips, then press them against my daughter’s tombstone. “Let’s go home and see Mommy.”
“Okay!” Angelica cheers. “Can we get her a chocolate donut? She’s probably hungry.”
I chuckle, taking their tiny hands in mine. “She’s hungry or you are?”
“Both.” She shrugs.
After a quick stop to the donut shop, we head home. When we walk inside, the girls run straight to their mom first, give her a hug and a kiss, and then run to the table to eat their donuts. Nevaeh is sitting on the couch with Blaire. They’re talking and laughing and both holding a glass of chocolate milk. Nevaeh glances at me and smiles, and fuck if my world isn’t that much brighter.
“I’m sorry you had to go alone,” she says.
“I wasn’t alone. I had the best company.” I sit across from her and hand her a bag with a couple donuts in it. “You’re thirty-five weeks pregnant and on bed rest. You heard the doctor. No going out unless it’s necessary.”
“I know, but I wanted to go. Did you see my mom there?” she asks, opening the bag and taking a bite.
Turns out, Susan goes to visit her daughter every year on the day she died, which is the same day my daughter died.
“No, but we left flowers there as well.”
“She’ll love that,” she says through a mouthful of food.
Over the last few years, Nevaeh and her mom have come a long way with their relationship. It’s not perfect, but it’s a lot better than it was when I first met her. Her parents even go to my parents’ place on Sundays for brunch after church.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and when I see who it is, I tell her I’ll be right back before I answer the call.
“Dan Wade.”
“Ethan Romero.”
“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” I haven’t heard from the U.S. Attorney since he called to notify me that Felix was found dead in the Atlantic.
“Logan Ortiz was up for early parole,” he says, something I already knew. “He was found dead in his bunk last night.”
“I wish I could say I’m sorry to hear that.”
“About as sorry as I am to say it.”
We hang up and I text my father: thank you
I don’t need to specify what I’m thanking him for, he already knows.
After pocketing my phone, I head back into the living room to join the women who are sipping their milk and munching on donuts.
“So, what’s with the chocolate milk?” I learned early on in our relationship, Blaire and Nevaeh use chocolate milk to deal with life. Whether it’s to celebrate or to drown their sorrows, chocolate milk is their go-to. If they’re drinking it, there’s a reason why.
“Blaire’s pregnant,” Nevaeh gushes.
“Congratulations.” I reach over and give Blaire a hug. She and Victor decided to wait a while before having kids, so this baby will be their first.
“Our babies will only be seven months apart,” Nevaeh says. “I can’t wait for all the play dates.”
“Does this mean you’re going to stick around for a while?” Blaire asks, her voice filled with hope.
The last few years we’ve spent more time traveling than being home. My dad opened a hotel and casino in Tennessee, and Nevaeh helped me open another club in L.A. It was good to get away, but now that the girls are about to start school and we’re about to add two more babies to the mix, I imagine we’ll be here for a while.
I glance at Nevaeh, waiting for her to answer her friend, when her eyes meet mine. She drops her donut onto the ground and clutches her belly. “Um, Ethan,” she says, her voice trembling.
“What’s the matter?”
“I think it’s time.”
She glances down and I follow, noticing a large wet spot between her legs. “Are you ready, Angel?” I ask, suddenly freaking the hell out. I thought I was nervous the day we adopted our daughters, but now… holy shit, she’s about to give birth… to two more fucking babies. I’m about to be a dad to four girls.
“I think it’s a little too late to ask me that,” she says through a laugh that somewhat calms me. “You should’ve asked me that before you knocked me up.”
“Hey, now,” I say, glancing around, unsure of what I’m supposed to be doing. “As much as I’d like to take the credit, the baster did that, not me.” After three years of trying and failing to get pregnant, the doctors felt IVF was our best option. The first try and she was pregnant with twins. And just like that, our family of four is about to become a family of six.
“It’s baby time,” Blaire yells to the girls.
“Baby time?” the girls yell back. “Yay!”
When Nevaeh tries to stand, I grab her hands to help her. “Slowly,” I say through a shaky breath. “We need to…” Fuck, I can’t think. We need to call someone… go somewhere. My brain isn’t cooperating.
“Wait!” She grabs a piece of paper from the table. “I can’t forget my list.”
I laugh, nodding in agreement. Over the years Nevaeh has created and deleted more lists than I can count. But this list is one I approve of, since it tells us what we need to do, and right now, I can’t think straight.
I glance at the piece of paper at the first item on the list.
“Breathe, Ethan,” Nevaeh says with a smile. “We got this… together. Always.”
THE END
The Fighting Series
Fighting for a Second Chance (Secret baby)
Fighting with Faith (Secret baby)
Fighting for Your Touch
Fighting for Your Love (Single mom)
Fighting ‘round the Christmas Tree: A Fighting Series Novel
Fighting Love Series
Tapping Out (Secret baby)
Clinched (Single dad)
Takedown (Single mom)
Imperfect Love Series
The Pickup (Secret baby)
Going Deep (Enemies to Lovers)
On the Surface (Second chance, single dad)
Stand-alone Novels
Bordello (Mob romance)
Knocked Down (Single dad)
Unbroken Promises (Friends to lovers)
Through His Eyes (Single mom, age gap)
Fool Me Once (Secret baby)
Co-written novels
Heath (Modern telling)
Hidden Truths (Romantic suspense)
Stolen Lies (Romantic suspense)
This book was a long time coming, one I wasn’t sure would ever see the light of day. When I first set out to write it, I had a vision, but the more I wrote, the more the vision changed. So I set it aside. I went back to it several times, but was worried it wasn’t what I normally write. It wasn’t as sexy and centered around the romance. It was more about a woman finding herself, something I have struggled with my entire life. The first person I need to thank is Ashley. You read this book as many times as I did. You believed in it even when I didn’t believe in it myself. When I was scared, you told me this is a story that needs to be written. This book could not have been written without you. Laurie, thank you for jumping in and reading this book, for treating it like it’s your own book baby. Andrea and Nancy, thank you for finding all the hidden gems. ;) Kristi, thank you for your friendship. You make this sometimes lonely writing world a little less lonely. Emily, thank you for making my words pretty. Kristi, I have one word for you: SLASH! Just kidding. Thank you for taking my words and putting a gorgeous cover to match them. Your friendship means the world to me. Stacey, thank you for making the interior pretty. Stacy, thank you for everything you do, from listening to me, to making my teasers. You are amazing. My children, thank you for simply being you. And of course, thank you to my readers and the bloggers who continue to take a chance on me. You’re the reason I get to keep doing what I love. And last but certainly not least, Nikki Ash’s Fight Club, thank you for giving me a safe place to laugh and cry and share my love of books.
Nikki Ash resides in South Florida where she is an English teacher by day and a writer by night. When she’s not writing, you can find her with a book in her hand. From the Boxcar Children, to Wuthering Heights, to the latest single parent romance, she has lived and breathed every type of book. While reading and writing are her passions, her two children are her entire world. You can probably find them at a Disney park before you would find them at home on the weekends!
