I sit up in my chair, and once again, I watch Emma sleeping in a hospital bed. The moon glows through the slats of the blinds in the window and casts an ethereal glimmer on her pale skin.
She’s too fucking pale, probably because she lost too much blood. They told me it took three transfusions to put her back together again. And the worst part of all, that bitch robbed Emma of her ability to have more children. We’re too new to have talked about baby names and for the majority of the time, I didn’t know that she was mine and I got a vote. Baby Girl Goodnite, as the sign on her hospital bassinet proclaims for now, but I would’ve at least liked the opportunity to have a fucking conversation.
Four. I can’t stop thinking that she wanted four children, three more after this baby. And I would have happily given her everyone of them that she wanted. I’d will it to be two boys and another girl just like she wanted. That choice should be Emma’s, not decided by anyone else, and she took that from us.
I don’t go back to sleep. I sit and seethe. I nurse my anger while I listen to the beeps that tell me my woman is still breathing. And I do it thinking that if the bitch weren’t already dead, I’d gladly kill her.
But that’s another thing she stole from us—my ability to put her down. Then again, I guess that would not bode well for my future in law enforcement or look good in the fact that a friend of mine somehow managed to get elected to the White House. These are wild times. So I guess it’s best after all that I didn’t get to kill her.
I still don’t sleep.
I sit and watch Emma. I watch the seconds turn to minutes that turn to hours on the clock. But I don’t go to sleep.
And then, finally, fucking finally, sometime after the sun rose up in the sky, the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen flutter open and look right at me. And then her whole face crumples and she begins to cry.
“Honey, what’s wrong?” I ask softly and then mentally kick myself, because what didn’t go fucking wrong yesterday?
“You saved me,” she sobs quietly.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” I whisper as I gently brush her hair back from her face. “I’m so fucking sorry.” I say it over and over again until she gets it, until she feels it down deep like I do.
“You came for me.” She sniffles. “You saved me.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s over, Emma. You’re safe. The baby is safe. It’s over.”
“It’s over,” she repeats, but she doesn’t stop crying.
“Honey, talk to me,” I beg. “Tell me what to do.”
“They told me,” she whispers.
“What, baby? Tell me what they told you.”
“You know what the last thought I had was before I opened the door?” she asks, and I’m not following where this jump is going. Maybe she’s still groggy.
“I don’t know, baby. What did you think?” I ask, and as soon as she answers, I wish I could rewind the clock and go back five minutes and never ask it. That’s how deeply I feel the pain she’s feeling.
“That I was going to marry you and give you three more babies after this one,” she says. “That I was going to fill your house with love and happy babies and give you back as much of the sweet that you gave me.”
“Emma—” I start, and it comes out pained. She knows, and I know, and we both know that the other knows, and it fucking kills.
“But I can’t do that,” she continues. “I can’t give you that sweet. I’m broken.”
“You’re not fucking broken,” I bark, and she startles a bit, so I gentle my voice when I continue. “You are not broken. You cannot carry more children, because they had to take your uterus, and honey, that pains me to have to fucking give you that. It kills me to know they robbed you of that. But you are not broken. You’re a survivor. And we’re going to get through this together, because we’re not going to go it apart ever again. I can’t go through that again. All right?”
“All right, Lee,” she whispers.
“And if you want more babies after this one—which we still have to name, by the way—then we’ll adopt all the babies we can who need a safe place to land. Or if you want some of our own blood, then we’ll hire a surrogate to carry, because we can still do that. And it’ll cost a whack, but I figure Wes is sitting on top of all those piles of blood money from his dickhead relatives—may they rot in hell—so he’d be happy to cut some checks for some fancy surrogates.”
“Okay, Lee,” she says, but this time there’s a little bit of a twinkle in her eyes.
“And baby, you’ve gotta know.”
“Know what?” she prompts quietly.
“That if I have you, I already have everything I ever wanted,” I tell her, and the hitch in her breath and the water pooling in her eyes tell me that I’m everything she’s ever wanted too. “So let’s get you well and then figure out the rest together. Deal?”
“Deal.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
TIES THAT BIND
Six weeks later
As carefully as I can, I lift up the covers and slide out from underneath Emma’s arm. She’s still sound asleep, and I know she could use more rest, so I’m going to try not to wake her.
“Shh, baby girl,” I whisper with a smile for the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my life. “Let’s let Mommy sleep.”
Hope just smiles her squishy baby smile for me, and I scoop her up out of her bassinet, carrying her out of our room and down the hall to her room. The first time Hope and I were in this room together, it was transformed from a dream nursery into a nightmare, and now, you would never know. While Emma was recovering in the hospital, my parents and a bunch of guys from the station scrubbed this room within an inch of its life, and they started the second the crime scene tape came down. My mother and grandmother, I was told much later, ruthlessly tossed anything that couldn’t be salvaged, and everything that was tossed was replaced with brand-new.
It looks exactly like what Wes and I built for my girls, and this is how I will always see it. I’m trying my best not to give too much headspace to all that’s happened and all we’ve lost. At least not yet. I know we’re going to have to work through a lot, but until then, I just want to soak in this little bit of happy first.
So I change diapers like the one I just changed and put my girl in pink ruffle jammies, because she deserves to live in a world where such things exist and no bad can ever touch her ever again. She begins to fuss a bit as I carry her against my shoulder down to the kitchen to fix her a bottle, but my girl is not a crier. She might fuss a bit, but for the most part, she’s just a happy baby. That might change in the future, but I don’t care. I love every minute I’ve been given with these two women, and I swear to God I will not waste a moment of it. It’s all too precious.
I carry her and her bottle back to her room, because I like to be close to Emma, even when I’m trying to give her space to sleep. I’m not ready to be apart from her just yet. So we’re all back upstairs, but Hope and I are in the nursery, and we settle into the big chair that’s a replica of the one I chose for Emma.
I curl my girl into the crook of my arm, and she smiles at me. I smile right back as the bottle slips into her mouth and she eats her early-morning meal while we watch the sun come up in New Jersey. And just like that sunrise, just like every time I look at her face, I feel nothing but hope for the future. Emma wanted to honor Anna in a way that she would continue to live on with us—no longer between us, but a part of our family—and there was no better way to watch her live on than through our daughter. So it was decided, and Hope Anne was written on a birth certificate that we had to jump through some hoops and tear down some red tape to get, because the birth attendant was dead and there was no one to answer any questions. But I still made it happen. I would do anything for my girls.
“Hey,” Emma says from the doorway, and she looks so fucking beautiful. She takes my breath away every time I look at her. “There
you guys are.”
“We wanted to let you get some sleep.”
“Who needs sleep when I have you guys?” she asks cheekily, and I’m reminded that through it all, I got everything I ever wanted, and the proposal I’ve been planning for near on two months goes right out the window.
“Marry me,” I tell her softly, my voice a little gruff with emotion.
“What?” She laughs as her eyes snap from our daughter to mine.
“You heard me,” I say, letting my voice ring strong and true this time. “I asked you to marry me, because honey, I have been tied up in your strings since the moment you opened my eyes to all that was you and everything I ever wanted, and I never want to be untangled. I want to grow old with you and watch this girl grow up, and I want you to yell at me when I scare off all her boyfriends, when really it makes you happy, because you know ‘the one’ won’t back down in the face of a protective father. ‘The one’ will walk through hell and still press on to deserve a life of beauty with our daughter. I want to give you your own life of beauty, even if that means I have to walk through hell again and again to prove I’m worthy to give it to you. Until the day I die. The rest of my life will never be enough, but I’ll take it and be grateful, because it was with you. So, baby, I’m asking you to marry me.”
“Yes,” she whispers as tears stream down her face, but her smile is blinding, so I know they are happy tears, something new to add to my Emma with post-pregnancy hormones, and I love this softer side of her. I also love that she’s a badass. It’s called balance.
“Top drawer. In the back.”
“What?” she asks at my sudden change of pace.
“Because my hands are a little full right now,” I say, nodding toward the now sleeping baby in my lap. “I need you to look in the back of the top drawer.”
And I watch, my heart beating faster as she paws through the baby burp rags in the top drawer until she finds a small velvet box. I know when she finds it, because her whole body stills for a moment when she does, and then she hiccups as she pulls it out of the drawer. Like it’s the most precious thing in the world, she gently pries open the box to see the three rings nestled in the pillows.
“There are three?” she asks.
“The big diamond is the one that I wanted to give you,” I tell her. “The little band with the diamonds all around it is for you to wear at work, so the big one doesn’t tear your gloves and get in the way. And the solid band, I’m afraid I have to keep for a bit longer. It matches mine, and when I give that one to you, you will be mine forever.”
“I’m already yours forever,” she breathes. “But I’m happy to let you carry it for a little while.”
“Good, baby,” I say quietly. “Now come over here so I can put that on your finger, and then kiss me.”
“Oh yeah?” she asks playfully.
“Oh yeah,” I answer her with all seriousness.
She does not hesitate to move into the room to me, and I love it every time she does it. It will never get old. Tears are still shining in her eyes as she hands me the box, and I slide onto her finger the band with the two-carat emerald-cut diamond that shows the world she’s my one and only and I would do anything for her. I lift her hand to my lips and kiss just above the ring.
And then I scoot over, because this chair is huge and awesome, and it’s perfect to hold both of my girls while we watch the sun rise on a perfect Saturday morning. Emma scoots in next to me, and I wrap my arm around her.
“I love you, Lee,” she says.
“Pleased as punch, honey, because I love you too,” I say, making her chuckle a little before I give her the words I have every day since she came back to me, and I hope I always will. “Thank you for giving me everything I ever wanted.”
THE END
Thank you so much for reading HUSH LITTLE BABY. If you want to know more about the Goodnite and O’Connell family, you can start Claire and Wes’s story for FREE with TELL ME A STORY. And if you want to see more of the Lee and Wes bromance, you can find them in The Presidential Affair Series. And grab the conclusion to Emma and Lee’s story, DON’T SAY A WORD.
PLAYLIST
Hotel Key—Old Dominion
Rumor—Lee Brice
Whiskey Glasses—Morgan Wallen
Dancing with a Stranger—Normani and Sam Smith
Consequences--Camila Cabello
Every Storm—Gary Allan
Never Really Over—Katy Perry
What If I Never Get Over You—Lady Antebellum
Lonely Eyes—Chris Young
Whatever it Takes—imagine Dragons
To hell and back—Maren Morris
DON’T SAY A WORD
* * *
IT’S ALL MY FAULT
The smell of sulfur fills my nostrils, and smoke sears my lungs. The heavy weight of the rifle in my hands is like second nature to me. I could carry it in my sleep. During training, I probably did.
But it’s the eyes that chill me to the bone in the middle of this hot desert.
I don’t know how the intel had gone so bad. I know it happens, but not like this. One minute, the mission was going to plan, and the next, the world exploded. Spurts of gunfire can be heard all around me, but it’s the screams that ring in my ears.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I hear Adams scream through the comms in my ear. “They’re dead. They’re all dead.”
And he’s right. They’re all dead. Every last one of them. I was helpless to prevent this, but still I feel like I should have. It’s as bad as if their blood was directly on my hands.
The smoke burns my throat as I turn to the left and see Emma’s blonde-and-pink hair, her blue eyes open and watching me, her beautiful body mutilated, because I was in her life.
“No!” I shout.
But the eyes of the dead scream that this is all my fault.
“It’s all my fault,” I mumble. My throat is raw from the smoke inhalation and the screams echo in my ears, but still I know that that’s not right, right?
“That’s right,” a familiar voice coos. “It’s all your fault.”
“My fault.”
“Yes, Captain Goodnite. It’s your fault and now you have to pay.”
“It was you,” I gasp as I fade in and out of consciousness. “It was all you.”
“Yes,” they laugh. “It was all me.”
“Not my fault.”
“Oh no, it’s very much your fault and now you’re going to die.”
My name is Captain Liam Goodnite with the George Washington Township Police Department and it looks like I’m about to die.
Too bad I wasn’t ready to go but I guess it’s like they say, “Life’s a bitch and then you die.”
Get your copy now.
ABOUT JENNIFER
Jennifer is a thirty something lover of words, all words: the written, the spoken, the sung (even poorly), the sweet, the funny, and even the four letter variety. She is a native of San Diego, California where she grew up reading the Brownings and Rebecca with her mother and Clifford and the Dog who Glowed in the Dark with her dad, much to her mother’s dismay.
Jennifer is a graduate of California State University San Marcos where she studied Criminology and Justice Studies. She is also a member of Alpha Xi Delta.
14 years ago, she was swept off her feet by her very own sailor. Today, they are happily married and the parents of an 11 year old and 9 year old twins. She lives in East Texas where she can often be found on the soccer or baseball fields, drawing with her children, reading, or wondering what the hell her senior citizens have gotten up to now. Jennifer is convinced that if she puts her fitbit on one of the dogs, she might finally make her step goals.
She loves a great romance, an alpha hero, and lots and lots of laughter.
STALK HER
(She Loves that Shit)
www.JenniferRebeccaAuthor.com
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ALSO BY JENNIFER
The Liam Goodnite Series
Hush Little Baby
Don’t Say a Word
The Claire Goodnite Series
Tell Me a Story
Tuck Me in Tight
Say a Sweet Prayer
Kiss Me Goodnight
A Presidential Affair
The Senator’s Secret
Caught by the Chief of Staff
The Press Secretary’s Passion
The Funerals and Obituaries Series
Dead and Buried
Dead and Gone
Dead and Deceived
Dead and Wed
I Met a Girl, a Funerals Prequel
The Murder on Ice Series
Attack Zone
Layback
The Southern Heartbeats
Stand
Joy
Whiskey Lullaby
Mercy
Just a Dream
Church Bells
Standalones
Trap: A Salvation Society Novel
Dark Horse: A Driven World Novel
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!
THANK YOU SO MUCH! For everyone who has patiently (and not so patiently) waited for Lee’s book. For everyone who came with me from romcom to suspense, for everyone who loved Claire and Wes so much that you had to know what happened with Lee. I couldn’t have done this without you.
THANK YOU ALYSSA! For everything. For the pretty covers, for laughing it off when I send you pretty pictures and ask you to make it creepy, for fielding crazy phone calls where I’m like, I have this idea, for everything. From the first to the last, it’s you and me, kid, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
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