All My Life

by Prescott Lane

  The labor was twenty-two hours of non-stop pain. Despite what everyone said, I didn’t get any drugs. I think my subconscious must’ve known what I was going to do and thought I deserved the pain.

  Everyone told me breastfeeding was best, but I refused to try. Just told your dad to give you a bottle. Told him I didn’t want you hanging off me. I shut down, blocking everyone and everything out. Then your grandmother told me that she’d called my parents and that they’d come to see me.

  I have to wonder now if his mom’s decision to call them, my decision to let them in, changed the course of my life, or if it’s simply easier for me to blame them for something I wanted. If they simply became my excuse.

  Garrett and his family left as my parents walked in. I watched their eyes as they saw their granddaughter for the first time, looking for signs of love. I thought I saw a flicker of something, but it was small, detached. Instead, their eyes quickly landed on me, and they both began to cry.

  My mom sobbed as she told me how much you looked like me.

  Garrett had told me the same thing. I couldn’t see it.

  My dad teared up as he told me how much he’d missed me.

  There was no apology for how they’d acted. There was no apology from me, either.

  My dad told me not to worry, that everyone back in New York thought I’d been sent away to boarding school, that no one knew about my little mistake.

  That should’ve sparked anger in me, but there was nothing.

  Mom went on to tell me that they’d had a spot saved for me at a school in Scotland, that I could leave whenever I was ready. We apparently had some distant family there.

  I was tired, too tired, and closed my eyes.

  Then my mother started again with her “do the right thing” speech. With her “it’s not too late to have the life you wanted” speech. She wanted me to give away my baby, but I knew I couldn’t do that to your dad. Couldn’t do it to your grandparents, who’d been nothing but kind. They loved you.

  My dad tried to push the conversation further, but my mother held him off. They’d already planted the seed, they just had to wait for it to sprout.

  Just two days after pushing you out of my body, I was supposed to leave the hospital, be a mother. Garrett helped me out of the hospital bed, giving me a long hug. Some of the details have faded over the years, but not that one. That one I held onto. It was the last time I felt his arms around me, the beat of his heart against my cheek, the last time I felt truly loved.

  He handed me clothes, and I went into the hospital bathroom. There was one single hook, no shelves, no place to put my clothes unless I wanted to put them on the floor or toilet. There was no mirror, which was a good thing. I didn’t want to look at myself. Stripping out of my hospital gown and looking down at my post-pregnancy body was enough of a shock.

  My breasts were swollen and now lined with stretch marks. My once tight stomach was squishy like Jell-O. I didn’t recognize my own skin. I recoiled when Garrett asked me if I needed help, thinking he wouldn’t ever want to see the aftermath of pregnancy. He’d never again be attracted to me, want me. I heard a knock at the door, and your dad announced that DD had stopped in to see you.

  I couldn’t seem to catch a break. I stayed in the bathroom, not wanting to see anyone else. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, telling myself I could do this. Women had been doing this for ages. I was a mother. I’d figure it out.

  I started to sweat and felt my legs wobble. I forced myself to put on my clothes, slipping the loose-fitting dress Garrett’s mom had bought me to go home in over my head. Mom clothes.

  Clothes used to make me feel better, but that was gone, too. My head started to spin. My heart raced, and I leaned against the door for support. What was happening?

  I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even get dressed.

  Needing some air, I started to push the door open when I saw Devlyn holding you, Garrett smiling down at you both. She looked completely natural. She knew to support your head. You weren’t crying for her.

  It was the first time I realized what I had to do. I pushed the door open all the way. Garrett took one look at me and asked Devlyn to leave.

  She passed you to your daddy. I remember thinking that’s the way it should be. You two were perfect together—Mia and Garrett.

  I looked him right in the eye, my heartbeat strong, my hands steady and told him I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be your mother.

  I don’t think he believed me. Not while we argued. Not when our parents got involved. Not when I told him he could have sole custody. Not when I told him I’d sign anything he wanted. Not when I told him I loved him. Not when I told him I loved you. Not when I told him that’s why I was leaving. He didn’t believe me. Not until the moment I walked out the door—eighteen years ago today.

  I’m on my way,

  Mom

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  GARRETT

  Looking into her brown eyes is like looking right into my daughter’s. I cling to my hatred for her, but she looks so much like Mia. She’s right in front of me, close enough to touch, but we’re both just staring at one another. My father is desperately trying to send everyone home. Mia is safe inside with Devlyn, no doubt staring at us from the window. Sadly, this is the first time she’s seen her parents together. Worse, she’s going to see me send her mother packing.

  Sheena rubs the wooden box in her hands. “I’ve imagined this moment so many times,” she says. “Rehearsed what to say, but now I can’t remember any of it.”

  I don’t blink. I don’t move. I give her absolutely nothing, which is what she deserves.

  She licks her lips, glancing down at the box again. “I saw Mia’s graduation speech. She’s an amazing young woman. I knew she would be with you raising her.”

  Still nothing.

  “I know I’ve got no right, but I’d like to see her.”

  Silence.

  “Garrett, please,” she begs, a tear rolling down her cheek.

  Like her, I’ve imagined this moment endless times. Over the years, I’ve imagined everything from her coming back saying she loves us and us getting back together (granted that was mostly in the early months), to her falling to her knees begging for forgiveness, to a downright screaming match.

  Instead, I turn my back to her and start to walk away.

  “Garrett!” she cries. “She’s my daughter, too!”

  That one makes me pause, and an evil laugh I didn’t know I was capable of carries me all the way back inside my house.

  Devlyn’s by the door like she’s guarding it, but Mia flies into my arms. “Is she still here?”

  I block her from looking outside. I don’t know if Sheena left yet, but I’m not above calling the police to have her forcibly removed if necessary.

  “What if she leaves?” Mia cries. “What if this is my only chance to talk to her?”

  “She’s leaving,” Devlyn says softly.

  “Daddy!” Mia collapses into tears in my arms.

  Devlyn’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I flinch. I don’t mean to, but my muscles are so tight the slightest touch feels like a threat. Holding Mia, I look over at Devlyn, who, as usual, gives me a supportive smile.

  I can tell she doesn’t know whether to stay or to go. She wants to give Mia and me space, but she wants to be there for me. The back door opens, my dad walking in. He wraps his old arms around me and Mia. His protective fatherly instinct is just as honed now as it’s ever been. He releases us, his hand on my cheek, giving me a look. It’s the same look he gave me when Sheena showed up pregnant. The same look he gave me when she walked away.

  I know that look. I have it now, too. It’s the whatever-it-takes look. Whatever it takes to protect and take care of those we love.

  “I’m going to start cleaning up outside,” Devlyn says.

  Her blue eyes hold the same look. I’ve never noticed that before. “I’ll go with you,” my dad says, leaving Mia and
me alone.

  Alone.

  I remember that first night I was alone with her. It was a good while after we brought her home from the hospital. Either Mom or Dad or both had stayed and helped with Mia every night, but that couldn’t last forever. That first night it was just the two of us, and we both cried. It was the first time I let myself cry over Sheena.

  I’m not sure if it was because I was in shock, too scared, or too busy with a newborn to let myself feel it before, but that first night, I cried. It was the one and only time I’ve ever cried in front of my daughter. I didn’t even do that when my own mom died.

  Mia seemed inconsolable that night, just like now.

  I doubt a walk in the fresh air is going to help tonight. She’s too big for me to swaddle and rock, and words have failed me. I haven’t said a word since ordering Mia and Devlyn inside.

  Mia pulls away from me. “I know you hate her, but I’m not sure I do.”

  “I don’t hate her,” I lie. I read somewhere once that to hate a child’s parent comes off to the child like you hate them, too. After all, they are a part of their parent. “I don’t want you hurt by her. I’m protecting you.”

  “She’s my mother!” she screams.

  “She gave birth to you,” I say. “She’s never been your mother.”

  Mia’s bottom lip quivers. The truth is hard to hear. “Maybe she wants to be,” she whimpers.

  “Oh, baby girl,” I say, wrapping my arms around her again. I fucking hate this. How dare Sheena show up and do this to Mia! On her birthday, no less! There’s no doubt in my mind that Sheena is here for herself, not for Mia. She didn’t put Mia first when she was born, and she’s not about to start now.

  Mia squirms out of my arms again. Somehow, I’m the bad guy in this, the one who’s keeping her away from her mother. Silent tears rolling off her checks, she walks to her bedroom. I follow her. She needs to know that nothing has changed, that I’m still here. That I’ll always be here. I’m her constant.

  Leaning in her doorway, I wait. Her phone is going off like crazy. She picks it up, turning it off, then kicks off her shoes and crawls into bed still wearing her party dress and the pearls Devlyn bought her.

  Silent tears are the worst. The amount of resistance it takes to keep from making a sound when you are crying is incredible. That kind of containment is going to do a number on her. It’s better to let it all out. She can scream and cry all she wants. I can take it. I can take it all, but this . . .

  This silent pain.

  Shutting off her light, I take a seat next to her on the bed, my hand resting on her shoulder. My eyes close. This isn’t new pain. This is eighteen years of pain. Have there been other nights she cried silently over her mother?

  I feel like I’ve been warped back in time. How many nights did I spend patting her back while she fell asleep? I had a rhythm I used to use, a certain beat. It comes right back to me now. Mia’s subconscious must remember it, too, because she soon falls asleep. Probably has more to do with her being mentally exhausted, but I’ll take it.

  My daughter crying herself to sleep isn’t acceptable, but deep in my gut I know Sheena’s not going away easily. It’s funny. Eighteen years ago, I’d have done anything to get her to stay, and now I’d give anything for her to go.

  Slowly, I ease my weight off her bed, careful not to wake her, and pause at her doorway to take one last look at her. When Sheena left me before, my sole distraction was Mia. I couldn’t fuck another girl to forget her. I was underage, so alcohol wasn’t an option, but tonight a stiff drink is definitely called for. I’d hidden all the alcohol in a spare refrigerator in the shop to keep Mia’s friends from getting hold of anything, so I head outside. I think there’s only beer, but I’ll take what I can get.

  Devlyn and my father are both in the yard, throwing things away, cleaning up, stewing over the events of the night. I walk right past them both, straight to the shop, saying nothing. I know my dad wants to strategize. I suspect Devlyn wants a big heart-to-heart, but I don’t have the energy for any of that right now.

  With one good push, I slide the door to the shop open, hearing it slam, not realizing how much force I released on the poor thing. I’m greeted by the shine of my motorcycle, a symbol of a life left behind. I walk right past her, too.

  Opening the door to the old refrigerator, I lower my head, the cool air meeting my boiling skin. Then I feel her presence. Normally, it would soothe me, make me smile, but tonight there’s only room for anger. I’m not angry with her and don’t want to accidentally take my emotions out on her, so I grab a beer and turn around, taking a long drink.

  Devlyn’s blue eyes study me. “I can’t talk right now,” I say.

  “Who said anything about talking?” she says with a stone-faced expression and reaches behind her, sliding the door closed.

  I can hardly believe she’s serious.

  She steps closer to me and whispers, “I need you right now, and I think you need me.”

  I doubt it’s the same for women. I doubt an angry woman wants to fuck, but an angry man wants to fuck—hard. Of course, we could use other means to get out our frustration, like exercise. But pounding a punching bag isn’t nearly as satisfying as pounding a pussy.

  Slowly, I place my beer down, our eyes locked. Normally, I might feel guilty about using a woman to feel better, but she wants this, too. All bets are off tonight. I don’t care that my dad’s outside, that Mia’s asleep inside.

  Stalking toward her, she doesn’t move away, not in the mood for any cat and mouse games, either. Usually, she gets off on me teasing her. Usually, I get off on it, too, but tonight we both just want to get to the deed.

  I run my eyes over her, still dressed for the party. Devlyn looks great in everything she wears, but I prefer her in dresses—easier access. “Take off your panties,” I order.

  “Remember?” she says with a flirty smile. “I’m not wearing any.”

  I must be really upset to forget that fun detail. Seductively, she walks to my motorcycle and hikes her leg across it, straddling it backwards, her dress pulled up to her upper thighs. The thought of her slick wetness on the leather of the seat makes my dick throb. Leaning past her, I push the start button and squeeze the clutch lever, revving it up. Her eyes go wide. I’d told her the bike didn’t work. I never specified it was the brake system that’s faulty.

  Planting a sweet kiss on the nape of her neck, I give the lever another squeeze, causing the bike to vibrate. “Oh God,” she moans, looking at me, wanting more.

  I keep my hand on the lever, kissing her slowly, my tongue tangling with hers, the gentle hum of the bike between her legs. She reaches for my pants, but I give her another jolt. Her head tosses back, biting her lip, but I release the lever.

  Her eyes dart to mine, and I flash her a wicked grin. “Reach under your dress and open the lips of that sweet pussy wider.” Holding my gaze, she follows my orders, her eyes rolling back at the brief contact of her fingers.

  This time when I rev the engine, her hips grind into the seat, her slick wetness helping glide her. Watching her get herself off, I match her rhythm with the engine until her whole body is shuddering.

  Not giving her a second to recover, I turn the bike off and flip her around, bending her over. She gasps as I toss her dress up, exposing her perfect ass. “Hold on to the handlebars.”

  In one smooth motion, I free my cock and thrust into her hard. “You are mine,” I groan, not wanting her to ever doubt that. “You hear me?”

  “Yes,” she breathes out.

  Holding her hair, I thrust in and out. The only thing I want to think about is the feel of her as my cock slides deep inside. She uses the handlebars to force herself back on my dick hard, letting me know she can take all I can give. And I give it to her, banging the hell out of her, every moan from her sweet lips letting me know she’s enjoying it as much as I am.

  She whispers my name, her voice cracking with an undeniable vulnerability. It’s my undoing. Through gri
tted teeth, I groan her name, hearing the same vulnerability in my voice, releasing inside her.

  Lowering my head to her back, I hold her as tight as I can for as long as I can, until she wiggles slightly. When my dick slips out of her, there’s a weird twisting in my gut. Ignoring it, I lower her dress, giving her ass a playful smack.

  She gets off the motorcycle, reaching for my hand. We both just stare at each other for a few minutes, in shock over Sheena’s abrupt appearance. I told her I didn’t want to talk, but there’s something she needs to know. I say, “This doesn’t change anything between you and me.”

  She smiles, but shakes her head. “Garrett, you know it does.”

  Tightening my grip on her hand, I say, “No, it doesn’t. I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she says softly. “Things are already different.”

  I start to argue with her, but her hand flies to her hip like a warning, and I know what she’s referring to. “I will talk to Mia about us,” I say. “But I can’t do it like we planned. Not with Sheena here now. I can’t give Mia anything more to deal with.” She pulls that bottom lip between her teeth. Damn it, I know she’s holding in tears. I pull her into my arms, kissing the top of her head.

  “I should go,” she whispers, stepping away.

  “Devlyn,” I say, but nothing else comes out.

  “I understand, Garrett. I do,” she says.

  “When things have settled down,” I say, “we’ll tell Mia.” She gives me a very unconvincing nod. Could things be anymore fucked up? “I just want to . . .” My fist clenches at my side. “That fucking bit . . .” I stop myself. My mother hated the word “bitch”. Use of that word landed me and my dad in hot water. “Fucking Sheena.”

  “How’s Mia?” Devlyn asks.

  “Cried herself to sleep,” I say. “How could Sheena do this? Just show up after eighteen years without a word? What the hell is she thinking?”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “No fucking clue.”

  “Mia’s eighteen,” Devlyn says. “You can’t really stop her from seeing her mother if she wants to.”