Prodigal Son: A Sexy Single Dad Romance: Book 2 in the Marked Men 2nd Generation Series (The Forever Marked Series)

by Jay Crownover

  She handed me a onesie with flamingos all over it and reached over to tickle the baby’s tummy above her newly changed diaper. There was a scar near the top of her navel from one of the surgeries Hollyn had to have to save her life. Remy didn’t ask about it, which I was deeply grateful for. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk about how close I’d come to losing my kid. It was still an open wound.

  “But I don’t think any other baby could ever be as cute as this one. I think she kind of looks like you. She’s adorable, and I think she likes me.” She gave me a look that was hard to read and muttered softly, “I’m sorry about her mom. I’m sure that has been very hard for both of you.”

  Hollyn seemed to understand what Remy was saying and cooed a soft sound in response. I picked her up and settled her on my shoulder, turning to look at Remy with a lifted eyebrow. “Things with her mother were complicated before she passed away. I’m still figuring out how I feel about it, and how to let Hollyn find her own feelings about the situation once she’s old enough.” I nudged her with my shoulder trying to change the subject and lighten the mood. “Do you feel brave enough to feed her now that you’re her favorite? I’ll get you a bottle, and you can sit with her on the couch.” I closed my eyes and sighed at the heavenly thought of being able to take an uninterrupted shower without having to ask my mom to come over. “It’ll give me ten minutes to get ready to take you to your car.”

  I couldn’t keep the sound of desperation out of my voice. I knew she wanted to keep as much space between us as possible, but I didn’t want the divide I dug to be there anymore. My entire life was uncertain and shaky at the moment. The only thing that felt familiar was Remy. There was comfort in being close to her. And the fact that she could still see me as some kind of hero after the way I’d abandoned her meant more than she would ever know.

  Daire Archer wasn’t the only person in Remy’s life who needed to understand it was more than mistakes that made a person who they were. That worth wasn’t based on one moment that went wrong.

  Remy made an irritated sound, but since she was never one to back down from a challenge, she slowly nodded her head. “Fine. I’ll pretend I know what I’m doing so you can take a shower, but don’t get used to it. I shouldn’t be unsupervised with anything fragile for too long.”

  I grunted and followed her out of the nursery, rubbing the baby’s back as I watched Remy walk through my house like she owned it.

  “Stop doing that.” I kept my voice low so I didn’t startle either of them. But there was enough bite in my tone; Remy faltered a step and turned to look at me over her shoulder. “Stop saying you’re too much, or that you can’t be trusted. Neither of those things has ever been true. You’re just you. And the you I know, the girl I grew up with, I would trust her with my life… and my baby’s life.”

  She gave me a hard look before whipping back around and continuing her sashay through my house. “You can trust me with your life, and with Hollyn’s, but not my own. Isn’t that why you let my mother convince you to leave?”

  I balked and nearly missed a step. Hollyn felt the sudden shift and squawked in alarm.

  “What did you just say?” Cora Archer’s involvement in my sudden disappearance was a secret I fully planned to take to my grave. “I didn’t leave because of your mom, Remy.”

  I really didn’t. I left because I was worried about her and about myself. I honestly believed we were no good for each other at the time. We were hurting each other without meaning to, and I hated that for both of us.

  She huffed indignantly, and I watched her bare shoulders stiffen. “I know she asked you to go when I was in the hospital. My dad told me everything. I was really mad at her for a long time. I barely spoke to her for a year after I first found out. But she’s always going to be my mom. And I know she’s always going to do what she thinks is best for me. It’s taken a lot of time and some intervention from my dad and Zowen, but I’m working on forgiving her. You, on the other hand...” She glared at me over her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for leaving without any explanation—or even a goodbye. I know I screwed up. I was off the rails and needed some serious professional help, but I still deserved a real goodbye from you, Hyde.”

  “I can’t believe you knew your mom talked to me that night.” All this time, I’d stayed away from her, kept a careful distance because I was terrified that I would let something slip. I was scared to death that I would cause a rift between Remy and her mom. I foolishly believed leaving her a solid relationship with her mother was the one gift I could give her when I was gone. “I really didn’t leave because of what she said. I was already on my way. She simply put some things I’d been struggling with in perspective. I actually owe your mom a lot. I never would’ve found what I was meant to do without her giving me the little push I needed. My parents were always so overprotective because I went through so much when I was young before they saved me. They never would’ve encouraged me to get out there and find myself the way your mom did. Because of her, I get to build stuff like my dad and help people in need just like my mom. I don’t regret my choice to join the Army.”

  Remy practically stomped into the living room and flung herself on the couch. She watched me with hostile eyes as I made my way over to her and sat down next to her. I handed the wiggling baby over with precise directions on how to hold her. Remy might’ve been worried about handling the baby, but she was a natural. And she was right about Hollyn liking her. The baby waved her hands happily and gurgled in delight as soon as she was in Remy’s arms.

  I patted both of them on the head and straightened so I could step into the kitchen and work on getting my daughter fed. Remy looked up at me with a pout and pointed stare.

  “I’m glad you found where you were meant to be, but you still could’ve stopped by to say goodbye. I think I deserved that much, no matter the circumstances. I was broken. You were always the one I turned to, the one who made things better. When you were suddenly gone, it was a lot to deal with, on top of everything else that was going wrong inside my brain. It made getting better so much harder than it had to be.”

  I felt my shoulders slump and lifted a hand to rub the back of my neck. I closed my eyes for a second, and remembered how hard it had been to walk away from her, knowing how fragile she was at that moment.

  “I couldn’t say goodbye. If I tried, I knew I wouldn’t be able to leave. Walking away was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Not knowing how you were, if you were getting better, if I would ever be able to be around you again—all those things kept me awake for weeks while I was at boot camp. I made things harder for me, too, Remy. You weren’t the only one suddenly going through withdrawals.” It really felt like I was coming down from something, like I was sick both physically and mentally from having to suddenly live my life without her at the center of it. I didn’t smoke. Wasn’t a big drinker. Never messed around with anything that might get me in trouble because of my mom’s history of substance abuse. But I remembered feeling very much like I was addicted to Remy Archer at the time. “At the end of the day, all that matters is you got better and started proactively addressing your issues. I don’t care if you can’t forgive me if it means you never get to the point you feel that hopeless again. I’ll be the bad guy in our story for as long as you need. I tried to tell you since the beginning I wasn’t the hero you made me out to be. That was always wishful thinking on your part.” I opened the fridge and shoved my heated face into the cool interior.

  This conversation was probably a long time coming, but I never expected it to take place while Remy was holding my baby right after we both committed to moving back home. And I definitely never planned on her knowing all along that her mom had intervened in our disaster all those years ago. It made all the time I avoided her to protect that secret seem wasted. I really could’ve used the kind of friend Remy had always been to me lately, and I had a million regrets of how I handled everything up to this point.

  “As for trusting y
ou with your own life, that isn’t something I would ever question. Even though we haven’t been around each other over the years, I know how hard you work to make sure you’re as healthy as possible. Your dad talks to my dad all the time about how you’re doing. Your parents are so damn proud of you. No one who knows you would change a single thing about you, and that includes the complicated way your mind works. You scare me sometimes, Remy, but you’re also the one and only person who always makes me feel better about myself. You may be a work in progress for the rest of your life, but who isn’t?”

  I walked over and knelt down in front of her, handing her the warm bottle and showing her how to hold it so Hollyn could eat without getting too much air in her tiny little belly. The baby waved her arms around excitedly as Remy and I stared at each other in a moment that was as tense as we’d ever had. I wanted to believe we’d managed to clear the air, that all the hard truths between us had been heard, but her gaze was still guarded, and she was still looking at me like I was her enemy.

  “My dad told your dad I was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder?” Her eyebrows lifted, and her mouth turned down into a fierce frown. “I find that hard to believe. No one in my family really likes to talk about it. It nearly killed me. To them, this disorder is the only enemy in my story.” She sighed and looked at me with sad eyes. “But for me, it’s just part of who I am. It’s no different than having curly hair or being short. I can’t hate something that makes me who I am; I can’t treat it as something bad and distasteful. I also can’t let it be all that I am. It takes more work than you will ever know for me to even have my own kind of normal.”

  Before I could think better of it, I lifted a hand and brushed my thumb across the gentle ridge of her cheek. It was a gesture I often used when we were younger. One I used to calm her down and get her to focus on me when she was in a mood or when she was clearly struggling to get control of her emotions. Her skin was as soft as I remembered. And she blushed as prettily as I remembered, too.

  What was new was the way my heartbeat kicked up a notch and the way my hand wanted to shake after touching her. I felt a drop of sweat slide down the back of my neck, and it gave me chills all over.

  “I like your kind of normal, Remy. The work you do is worth it.” I shot to my feet and cleared my throat roughly. “I’m going to jump in the shower really quick. Thank you for waiting for me.”

  She practically growled at me when I turned to walk away. I told myself the entire way to the bathroom that I absolutely was not going to think about how much I liked the way Remy looked while she was holding my daughter. I swore I wouldn’t obsess over the way Hollyn smiled at the only other girl who had ever had a permanent place in my heart.

  It sucked that I always seemed to do the opposite of what would be best where my relationship with Remy Archer was concerned. All because I knew there was no way I was ever going to get the image of my child and her together out of my head.

  Remy

  IT WAS A silent ride to my car. Hyde asked if I wanted to stop somewhere and grab breakfast, but what I really needed was to get away from him and his too-cute baby before I did something stupid, like fall in love all over again. There was a slim chance I could still resist Hyde because of all the bad blood between us—but that baby, no way could I keep my heart safe from her. She was just too precious, and seeing the scars on her tiny body, a testament to all she had to endure to come home, made me feel a kind of kinship with her. I knew what it felt like to have to fight to survive. And I knew what it was like to be loved so deeply by someone that they would sacrifice anything to save you. My mom did it for me when she went behind my back and sent Hyde away, knowing if I found out I would hate her, and Hyde was going to do the same for Hollyn. Even if it was something as easy as sleeping in a comfortable bed, he was willing to give it up to be there when his kid needed him.

  Once I was in my flashy red car, instead of heading to my place in LoDo, I felt oddly compelled to swing by my parents’ house that was a little out of the city in Lakewood. Maybe it was spending the morning with a little girl who lost her mother and would never get the chance to be disappointed by her that spurred me into action. Or maybe it was seeing how desperate Hyde was to do the right thing for his daughter that opened my eyes to just how hard it could be to be a parent. I tended to only see things from my own perspective and focus on how they would affect me. I rarely managed to put myself in someone else’s shoes. That was one of the biggest things I struggled with when it came to my mental health. I didn’t want to be selfish and so self-absorbed, but it was really hard to force my brain to work any other way.

  We’d moved a couple of times when I was younger, always to a bigger house with more outside space and more room for my dad and brother to have various big-boy toys. Since all of us Archer kids went to a private school, it didn’t matter where we lived; we all stayed together. We were also the guinea pigs who tried the school out before most of my parents’ friends and colleagues sent their children there as well. At one point, it felt like I saw my classmates more outside of school than in it. The house in Lakewood was where we spent most of our time, where I really grew up, and where most of the family gathered for holidays and big get-togethers. I had avoided it like the plague for years.

  The only time I went voluntarily, up until recently, was when I knew my brother was there.

  This was the first time in years I was heading home, knowing my mom was the only one home. My dad was at work, and Zowen was back at school in Golden. My mom still worked a few days a week for my Uncle Rule’s tattoo business. When she was younger, she was a body piercer, but after Zowen and I came along, she started focusing more on the management side of things. She handled all the paperwork and accounting, and when my dad’s business really started taking off, she even went to school to get a degree in finance and later became a certified CPA. When I was a kid, she seemed invincible and unstoppable.

  It wasn’t until the symptoms of my BPD started to show that I realized my mother was merely human and fallible like the rest of us. For a long time, everyone thought my issues were just part of me being a loud, quirky kid. Then when I got older and had trouble in school and the fear of abandonment and obsessive behavior toward Hyde started, they realized it was something more. I was treated for ADHD, depression, and anxiety. At one point, there was an evaluator who was convinced I was on the autism spectrum, so it wasn’t like my parents didn’t try to help me. The problem was, no one managed to nail down an exact diagnosis until after I tried to take my own life. I was put on a mandatory psych hold, and fortunately, it was one of the doctors who took care of me in the hospital who identified borderline personality disorder as a possible diagnosis. My parents grabbed onto those words like a lifeline and immediately booked me with a specialist for evaluation. I clearly remembered how frustrated and helpless my mom seemed whenever I was having a particularly hard time adjusting to new meds and new doctors, and how relieved she was when something finally seemed to make a difference.

  For me, the enemy wasn’t Hyde, or even the wonky way my brain worked. The issue was the stigma around mental health and being looked at as somehow different just because I wasn’t wired the same as everyone else.

  Lost in thought, the trip to my childhood home went much quicker than usual. But it took forever to sit in front of the house, deciding if I should just walk in or knock on the door like a stranger. Both seemed wrong, so I finally settled on texting my mom to let her know I was in the driveway and asked her if she was home.

  A moment later, the front door was thrown open, and a small blonde woman poked her head out. She stuck out a hand and crooked her finger, indicating I should come in. I took a deep breath to brace myself and climbed out of the car. I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d been alone with my mom. My dad and brother were always quick to act as buffers because they knew my mom and I both had tempers and could make a bad situation worse with a few cruel words. After I tore into her and threw the
mother of all hissy fits over her intrusion with Hyde, I pretty much left Denver and hadn’t been back, except for short visits, until recently. When I did see her during that time, it was only briefly and never alone.

  I took my time walking up the steps and noticed her gaze skim over me from head to toe. I knew I was a wrinkled, day-old-makeup, no-shoe-wearing mess, but she didn’t so much as bat an eyelash at my disheveled appearance. Instead, she pulled me into a fierce hug and held onto me like she never planned to let go.

  I was a tad bit taller than my mom and a whole lot less colorful, at least on the outside. Aside from her two different-colored eyes, my mom also had her arms covered from shoulder to wrist in bright tattoos. One side was full of flowers, the other was inked with fantastical images of mythical creatures. Unicorns, mermaids, leprechauns, a jackalope—it was like a child’s imagination exploded across her skin, and I loved it. I used to tell people all the time that no one could possibly have a cooler mom than mine. Honestly, even when I was mad at her, I still thought she was the coolest person I knew.

  I patted her back as she squeezed me to death and laughed when she asked, “Why don’t you have any shoes on?”

  I put some effort into escaping and wiggled out of her grasp, then I pushed my tangled hair out of my face. “I spent the night at a friend’s, so I slept in my clothes and didn’t want to put my heels back on.” I wiggled my toes against the hardwood floor. “I should throw a pair of flip-flops in my car or something.”