“Is Millie laughing again?” Addy squealed, coming rushing into the room then stopping as soon as she saw the tears rolling down my face.
Turning on her husband, Addy narrowed her eyes at him. “What did you do?”
“Me? I didn’t do a fucking thing, I promise, Sweet Cheeks,” Grill argued, his voice high pitched and not at all like his deep timbre. I couldn’t help the deranged giggles that escaped in between my sobs.
“Don’t swear, Marshall, Millie is going to sound like a member of Team FIVE, and if that happens, then you are on the couch, mister.” Addy walked over to me, her arms coming around my shaking shoulders.
“Honey, can you take Millie and give Pey and me a minute?” I heard Addy ask her husband softly. My face planted against her upper arm in an attempt to hide my crying face from Grill.
“Yeah, Sweet Cheeks, take more than a minute, baby. I will take Mills home and put her down for her nap, have some daddy and daughter time,” Grill murmured, his voice sounded close. Kissing noises came next, and then I felt Grill move away.
“Might make a phone call to a certain sniper and rip him a new one,” he muttered darkly, the door closing giving me a chance to voice my displeasure at the idea of bringing Rafe into this. He had no blame here, other than leaving without giving me a clue as to where he goes. The simple fact of the situation was I had no claim on Rafe, on him or his time. I couldn’t exactly be mad at him for his secrecy when I had a whopper of mine I was yet to share.
Although, that might be about to change.
Taking the steaming mug of hot chocolate from Addy, I gave her a small smile as she sat down in the seat across from me. The new staff room was completely different from the old one we had before the fire. When Addy talked about re-building, I had been totally surprised when she included me in the meeting with Deck and his construction crew. I had to admit, her asking me for my input on the new clinic soothed some of the anxiety of returning to work. Call it a sixth sense, or just maybe Addy was having the same thoughts as me; whatever it was, she decided on a new design and outlay—changing up the whole clinic, so nothing was as it used to be. That made it easier to walk back in, that and the humdinger security system Ford installed. No client could enter the clinic without being buzzed in by the receptionist at the front desk. Then once in, cameras caught every movement.
Booth, his club and Grill making sure nothing like that night could ever happen again.
“Want to talk about what is wrong?” Addy asked, her hand covering mine gently. “Was it something to do with being back here, or to do with a certain dark-haired commando who takes off to parts unknown?”
Laughing, I shook my head, “Funnily enough, it is neither really. Yes, I had some apprehension coming back to work, but this building is so completely different and new, it honestly feels like a safe place to work. Thanks to the club and the new security measures they have in place. Knowing no one can just barge in is a huge help in feeling normal here again.”
“Yeah, Deck and Booth really went above and beyond with the extras, not that I am complaining. Marshall had real trouble letting me come back to work when we re-opened eight weeks ago. I believe Rafe had the same kind of concerns with you.” Addy lifted her own cup up to her lips, and no doubt to hide the smile I knew was forming.
“Subtle boss,” I huffed, but at least my tears had dried up, and the hiccupping had subsided enough to talk properly.
“And before you ask, no my breakdown didn’t have anything to do with Rafe either … well, not much. I am annoyed at him for taking off after being away on deployment for so long,” I conceded, hoping that I wasn’t giving away too much about my feelings towards him.
“But then I really have no right to have such concerns considering we aren’t—” waving my hand in front of me, “anything really.” Hating the lie that just came from my lips. I was something to Rafe; I just wasn’t sure what, just like he was something to me.
A firm smack was suddenly delivered to my hand, the sting shocking me.
“What a load of bull crap!” Addy growled at me. “Rafe is very much something to you as you are to him, Pey. Why you sell yourself so short all the time pisses me off. That night something happened between you and Rafferty Walsh and while Marshall has forbidden me to interfere,” Addy’s eyes rolled at her husband’s instruction, making me laugh, “I know without a shadow of a doubt, you two would be the perfect couple. I saw it that night—"
"Whoa, whoa, Addy, slow down,” I interrupted her, not wanting to hear what she was planning in her head. Since allowing herself to fall in love with Grill, and the birth of their daughter, Addy had it in her head that I was next, and as tempting as it was to be loved by a man like Rafe Walsh, I wasn’t sure if motherhood was in the cards for me.
Not only that, this whole line of conversation topic was way too premature, the other main person of the equation was MIA, again.
Reversing Addy’s hold on my hand, I gave her hand a warning squeeze.
“Honey, I appreciate that you are deliciously happy. Your man and your daughter complete the void you suffered growing up. But Addy, not everyone gets to have it all, some people never find it, and some, like me, had it all but very briefly then lost it. Life is not a fairy tale for everyone, boss.” I smiled at her, but there was no happiness behind it, just a truth.
“What did you lose, Pey?” Addy’s question came out in a trepid whisper, almost as if she was afraid to ask. And I was afraid to answer, but I knew I had to, although I’d planned on telling Rafe first, but now faced with it, maybe it was best if I spoke of it with Addy first. The first telling was always the hardest, at least, that was what my therapist used to tell me. At the time, I had refused to listen to her, refused to talk about what happened and I certainly never spoke of it to anyone else, but faced with it now, telling Addy might help me have some control when I eventually did speak with Rafe about it.
“You’re fidgeting, Peyton.” Looking down at my hands, I didn’t realise I had let go of hers and was currently shredding a note pad on the staff table.
Shit.
I would be shit in an interrogation or playing poker, I had so many tells people could make serious money off me.
“Listen Peyton, if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. Marshall says I need to mind my own business, but I care so much about—”
“I had a baby of my own once,” I blurted, cutting off Addy’s apology, the words just spilling out of me without conscious thought, and by the shocked look on Addy’s face, she wasn’t expecting me to say anything such as that.
“What—how—where?” Addy stammered out, nearly making me laugh, despite the seriousness of the topic. And it was going to get even more serious and sad.
Absently moving the shredded pieces of paper around in a circle on the table, I mentally gathered myself before continuing. Thinking about this was one thing I allowed myself to indulge in the memory of only when I was alone. However, in those times, I rarely said his name out loud or in my head; it was just too painful. Yet, here I was and about to lay it out for the first time in seven years.
“I fell pregnant when I was seventeen, but my boyfriend at the time barely stuck around long enough for the lines on the pregnancy test to appear. He took off like someone lit his arse on fire, refused to talk to me or acknowledge his part in the pregnancy.” Just thinking about Darren caused all kinds of hatred to boil inside me. We had been a couple for two years; his family knew mine, and our parents even helped the two of us get together. We were the perfect boyfriend and girlfriend, with wealthy parents and good Catholic school educations.
The world at our feet, until it wasn’t anymore.
“My parents were furious when I told them, his were even angrier. They accused me of trapping their son, called me all kinds of vile names and then one day, Darren was gone. They sent him off to study in England, and I was left pregnant and shunned by our friends and my family.”
“Did your family support you?”
“Not really, well in their own way, I guess. We had a beach house down at Torquey, so they sent me there to live. I had a tutor to help with my school work and a housekeeper, and Mum and Dad visited when they could. But they never looked at me or looked at my belly. It seemed as if they didn’t acknowledge it, then it wasn’t happening.”
“I spent nine months in a luxurious beach house, and it was the worst time of my life, or so I thought.” Sucking in a deep breath, I steadied myself for the hardest and most painful memory, one that would stay with me forever.
“I gave birth to a tiny baby boy, healthy and perfect and the spitting image of his dad. I fell in love immediately. All the lonely days and nights of that nine months all of a sudden melted away as soon as the nurse put my son in my arms.”
Looking over at Addy, I gave her a genuine smile. “It was like I was born to be a mother, even as young as I was and without my parent’s support, being Dean’s mother topped everything.”
“I went home to the beach house after they released me from the hospital and started a life with my son. And for three months it was perfect, just the two of us. He looked at me like I was the most important person in his life and I felt the same for him. I loved him with every breath, and he was my world. Then the day after my eighteenth birthday, I woke up one morning in a panic. My breasts felt hard and heavy and there was a wet patch on the sheets. That was when I realised Dean hadn’t woken for his feed in the night and I had not woken up.”
“I jumped out of bed and raced to the side of the room where his bassinet was and—”
“SIDS,” Addy whispered. Not asking, just knowing instinctively.
“Yes,” I hissed, my voice shuddering. Every year I give to the charity involved in raising money for research into the death of infants, every year I put a red nose on the front of my car, and every year it didn’t get easier to think of my son on his birthday, or on the anniversary of his death. This doesn’t make my birthday much of a celebration, which is only a month away—the first birthday with Rafe in my life.
I knew I had to tell him about Dean, it wasn’t as if I was deliberately keeping it from him. We were friends and friends shared; maybe subconsciously, I was waiting for him to open up to me before telling him.
“The housekeeper heard my screams, and she was the one who called the authorities and my parents. She had been the one to sit with me for hours while I held my baby in my arms, listened to my pathetic sobs, begging my baby to open his eyes, and she had been the only one to stand by my side when my son’s coffin was placed into the ground.”
“Your parents?”
“Didn’t come,” I affirmed bitterly, “they said it was just another thing I couldn’t do right. They never even met their grandson; they sent a bunch of flowers to acknowledge his birth. Just a whole lot of nothing.” Angrily, I wiped away the tears from my cheeks, thinking about my cold-hearted parents pissed me off. The aftermath of Dean’s death proving to me my parents only thought of themselves and their reputation in the community. But the final straw came when I sent Darren a letter telling him about our son, including a few photos of him and one special one of him sleeping peacefully forever in my arms. The letter came back to me unopened, with a handwritten warning on the back.
Do not contact me ever again.
So I didn’t. I moved out of the beach house, went to my family home, packed up all my belongings, and then moved to Ballarat. I applied to Uni, studied veterinary nursing and here I was. Seven years of healing and yet the memory still hit me in the heart, my beautiful Dean, then the horrible memories of Darren and my parents.
“Do they live local?” Addy asked.
“Nope, they sold the place in Torquey and Melbourne and moved to the Sunshine Coast. Darren’s parents followed a few years later. Last I heard they lived a few houses down from one another and jointly entertain all the rich people in their circle. Perfect lives.”
“And Darren? I gather he knows about Dean now?”
“I guess so,” I shrugged, “I mean I assume he does. I got his English address from one of his mates, explained why I needed it. One of them must have let him know if his parents didn’t.” Quite frankly, I didn’t care if Darren knew or not. I only wrote and told him because of a moment of pure loneliness and sadness.
“To be honest, I am glad he didn’t open the letter. He lost all rights to know anything about Dean the day he walked away from us. I got the photos back, one of them was of Dean’s first smile. He had no right to see that beautiful moment, the arrogant prick.”
To this day, I still berated myself for being so weak and sending word to Darren. He didn’t care, not when I fell pregnant and not when our son died.
“You know what we need, Pey?” Addy asked loudly, getting up from her chair with deliberate purpose.
“What?” Copying her, I got to my feet, looked at her and waited.
“A KitKat! Nothing helps you more than a chocolate and thin wafer biscuit, plain or gooey caramel, it doesn’t matter. A Kit Kat fixes everything.”
A burst of laughter erupted from my lips, Addy’s silly proclamation doing its job. The cloud of melancholy lifting, just like my cagey boss intended.
Wrapping an arm over Addy’s shoulder, we walked to the door.
“Kit Kats are yum, but I bet I can think of something much yummier.”
“Sexy snipers don’t count, not when it comes to chocolate,” Addy laughed, “but they come a close second.”
Laughing along with my friend and boss, I let myself forget my misery over my son and Rafe. There was no use worrying about where Rafe went off to; if he wanted me to know, he would have told me.
CHAPTER FIVE
RAFE
“Rafferty, how are you?” My former father-in-law asked me in a tight voice.
When I visited Angie, I made sure to avoid the part of town where her parents lived, mainly for the sake of my sanity and because they never missed an opportunity to give me shit over something I had no power over stopping.
“Arthur, Hilary.” I nodded politely, then hurried to the door of the respite home, eager to get back to the car park.
“You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” Arthur stopped me mid-step with his question.
Sighing, I dropped my hand from the door handle and turned around slowly.
Of course, I fucking know what tomorrow is dickhead.
“Yes Arthur, I know. That’s why I am here today, I won’t be able to make it tomorrow. I only just got back in the country, and in a few days, I have to be at the base for a special training exercise.” Answering politely rather than the way I wanted to.
“But you can’t miss it, Rafferty!” Hilary gasped in horror, “We have cake and some very special gifts for her.”
Cake and gifts! Are these people completely delusional?
“Hilary, she is in a coma, for fuck’s sake! She can’t eat cake, let alone unwrap presents. Jesus Christ, you two need to be thinking about what the doctors asked you the last time I was here, not planning a party for someone who has no chance of ever waking up!” My outburst caught the attention of one security guard and a doctor standing at the front desk. Not that I gave a flying fuck, Angie’s parents had to get on board with the facts and let me get on with living my fucking life.
“Do not speak that way about our daughter, Rafferty,” Arthur gritted out. “Have some respect for your wife.”
“Ex-wife Arthur. I signed the papers and so did she. They were lodged and stamped, and it is legal and binding. This bid you have going to keep me in Angie’s life is getting thin, and I had no part in her drinking that night. I was overseas fighting for our country when she hit that tree, mate.” Even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, the stifling and unfair responsibility gripped me by the throat. I not only signed the papers, but I hung up on her when she called to beg me to reconsider. Her anguished pleas to work things out kept me up at night, the coldness in my tone when I refused her request. I was an arsehole and was paying
the price, no matter how much I wanted to be free from my punishment.
“You didn’t fight for her, Rafe,” Hilary wailed, her thin pale, hands gripping at her husband’s arm like a life-line.
“You knew how impetuous she was, that she acted without thinking. You could have waited until you were back in the country before going ahead with the divorce.”
“And she could not have sent me divorce papers through the mail, Hilary. I was in the middle of a war zone when I received them. Did Angie consider me when she did that?”
“She was acting out, trying to get attention from her absent husband,” Arthur scoffed, excusing Angie’s spoilt behaviour like he always did.
“Absent? It is my job for the love of God. She knew this when she married me, and she knew where I was heading for a career. It was her that backflipped, not me.”
“If you were half the man she thought you were, you would have given it up instead of taking off for months at a time, leaving her to her own devices in that hovel you made her live in.”
Laughing humourlessly, I gave into my anger.
“Like she stayed there while I was gone. I know the minute I left to go back, she hightailed it back to the mansion she grew up in. Angie didn’t do one hard minute on her own and you know it. You two mollycoddled her, and she didn’t know how to be an adult because you were there with your money. She didn’t know how to live on a budget because of you! So don’t throw shit in my face, you can have your idiotic party but I won’t be attending.” Throwing open the door, I stomped down the path and away from my stunned former in-laws, passing a smiling Nicole.
“Step one Rafe, good for you,” she whispered, giving me a pat on the shoulder as she passed me.
Step one, but why did it feel like I was still sinking in wet sand? Three years was enough for penance, wasn’t it? I was done with guilt and sorrow, staring at an unresponsive woman who I didn’t know anymore. Hell, I forgot most of the good times Angie and I had in the early days. The fighting and anger replacing all those memories.
Rafe (The Wounded Sons Book 4) Page 4
