The Redemption Series

by Leigh, T. K.

  After the morning I watched him walk out of my father’s kitchen without a single look back, I promised I would stop torturing myself, that I would finally let go of my adolescent obsession with Andrew Brinks. Since then, I did everything in my power to convince myself I’d done just that. I dated. I watched his wife’s belly get bigger and bigger. I dated more. I offered him my congratulations when he flew into the café with a bag full of pink onesies after learning it was another girl. I dated even more.

  Then Drew’s life began falling apart. Molly and I were in the stands when he was knocked unconscious and wheeled off the ice on a stretcher. I held his hand as he lay in ICU, begging him to wake up. My jaw dropped when Carla walked in carrying a baby, considering Charlotte wasn’t supposed to be born for another month. We were so focused on Drew’s recovery and rehabilitation, nobody ever questioned it.

  Still, throughout his entire downward spiral, I remained strong, refusing to get tangled in his web again. Every time I felt myself growing weak, I rewound the clocks to the day he left for college, the day I was supposed to lose my virginity to him. To when we saw each other that following Thanksgiving and he acted as if I weren’t even there. To all the times he paraded girl after girl in front of me, blind to the tears forming in my eyes. To the morning after he finally told me he loved me, having no memory of doing so. I’ve held onto the pain he’s caused throughout my adolescent and adult life, using it as a reminder to keep my distance, to focus my efforts on finding someone who would do the one thing he never did...make me a priority.

  Now, as I look into his eyes and see a yearning unmatched by any man who’s claimed his love for me, I realize I bear a lot of the blame here, too. Like during my undergrad days when I purposely took a guy to a Bruins home game, then proceeded to make out with him so Drew would see. Like when one of his teammates showed an interest in me and I feigned interest right back, just to piss off Drew. Like when a charming man with a sweet southern accent asked me to dinner and I said yes, just to help me forget about Drew. To forget about the way something as simple as his easy smile lights up my world. To forget about how much I’ve imagined hearing his husky voice murmur those three beautiful words. To forget about how much I’ve yearned to say those three words back to him, even to this very day.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice low.

  “Hey.” My heart is heavy, but full. This moment is bigger than I imagined it would be. I can’t help but feel this is the turning point we’ve both been searching for over the past few months…hell, years. I’ve been so caught up with wearing my pain like a badge of honor, I never stopped to consider I may have hurt him just as much.

  My lips part as we remain frozen in place, our eyes locked, unable to look away. I want to tell him everything, yet nothing. I want to spill my heart out, yet also lock up all my secrets and guard them with my life. I want to lose myself in him, yet keep him at arm’s length. I know I’m walking a dangerous tightrope. One misstep and I fear, this time, I’ll fall too far to ever come back.

  Tears well in my eyes, wondering where we’d be if we hadn’t played these games for so long, wondering if we would have found happiness with each other years ago.

  “Brooklyn?” His concerned vision rakes over me, searching for any hint of what’s causing me distress. Just like he did all those years ago when he pushed me on the swing and I tumbled down the hill. Just like he did a few weeks ago when I fell on the ice. His words from that day come rushing back.

  “I won’t let you fall. And if you do, I’ll help you put the pieces together again. Like I always have.”

  “Like you always have,” I murmur to myself.

  “Brook?” he says, urging me to talk to him.

  I’m overwhelmed with a thousand emotions I can’t name, both satisfying and terrifying. “I’m sorry,” I choke out.

  In an instant, I’m in his arms, resting my head against his broad chest. It’s warm and inviting. In a word, it’s home. I inhale a long breath, relishing in everything this man is, everything he’s always been, everything he always will be. As much as I want both of us to forget all the past hurt we’ve caused each other, it’s not that easy. There’s a lot we have to forgive first.

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “Being so blind.” I pull away and meet his heartfelt gaze. He’s not hiding anything from me, not pretending to be unaffected by this connection, this power that keeps forcing us together.

  “I’m the one who was blind, stupid, and probably scared. I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” He cups my cheeks in his hands, his mouth just a whisper from mine. The way he holds me, the way he speaks, the way his eyes bore into my soul make me never want to leave this place, this time, this moment.

  “No matter what you want to think, no matter what path you choose, you deserve to know that I’ve always loved you, Brooklyn. Always. I was just trying to do the right thing. That night at Brody Carmichael’s party...” He loosens his grip on me, a finger traveling down my jawline, ghosting over my bottom lip. It causes a shiver to roll through me, my nerve endings firing. “I was young, but I’d never felt anything remotely close to what I did when I kissed you. When you kissed me back...” His body grows taut, his mouth inching closer to mine. “I never wanted to stop feeling your lips on mine.”

  “Then why didn’t you come see me the next day? Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Without...” I trail off.

  “Do you think I wanted to leave you?” His voice thunders around me, the vibration making my heart speed up. “God, Brooklyn. I hated having to do that. For months, you were all I thought about, all I dreamt about.”

  “So why did you act like I didn’t exist?”

  He pulls his lip between his teeth as he stares down at me, assessing his next move. “I know I’ve never given you a reason to believe me. And as much as I want to tell you why I never appeared at your door at 7:01 on August 26th, 2001, I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet, not when I know the truth will hurt you far more than my failure to show up did.”

  His words remind me of what Molly said last night, how Drew was forced to make a choice. Was this what she was talking about? That night before he left for college?

  “But—”

  “Please, Brooklyn.” He releases his hold on me, increasing the distance between us. He runs a hand through his hair as he lowers his head. “I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that one night didn’t matter, that it didn’t affect me like it did. I did everything to forget about it, hoping it would dampen the pain. That’s why I couldn’t look at you, couldn’t bring myself to talk to you. It hurt so fucking much. I brought home girls who couldn’t hold a candle to you, hoping I’d feel something for them. I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to admit the truth.”

  “And what truth was that?”

  He lifts his gaze back to me, the tension mounting. My heart hammers in my chest, the intensity in his gaze consuming me, making me want to bare my soul to him. “Without you, I was dead inside.”

  I crane my head back, his words resonating with me, pushing me forward when the old me would have run away. “When I saw you across the way at a bar, I made out with a guy just to see if you’d notice me.”

  He brings his hands back to my face, swiping away my tears, a slight smile building on his lips. “I avoided going home to visit because it hurt too much to see you with another guy.”

  “I once dated a Canadiens fan in the hopes it would help free me from the hold you still had on my heart.”

  He lowers his voice as he inches toward me, barely a breath between our two bodies. “I asked Carla to marry me because I thought it was the only way I’d ever forget about you.”

  I nod, swallowing hard at what I’m about to admit to him. But we’re putting it all out there. No more lies. No more secrets. No more pain. Everyone deserves a second chance. Maybe this is ours. We’ll never know unless we wipe the slate clean.

  “I agreed to marry Wes so I could forget
about you.”

  Resting his forehead on mine, all the tension that’s been plaguing him since I announced my engagement seems to roll off him in waves. He places his palm on my lower back and pulls me against him.

  “Have you forgotten about me?”

  “Never.”

  “And Wes?” His question is filled with hope.

  “He’s in Dubai for two weeks. I told him I needed time to figure some things out. In his eyes, we’re still together, albeit on shaky ground.”

  His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as his mouth hovers over mine. “And in your eyes?” He arches a brow.

  “Don’t you see?” I respond with a small smile. It’s a strange feeling. Granted, Wes is still in the picture and I don’t want to do anything to hurt him while he’s away. But I think even he knows this is coming.

  “See what?”

  “There’s never been a choice when it came to you.”

  He briefly closes his eyes, allowing my words to soothe his soul. When he returns them to me, they’re bright, lustrous, radiant. “Come on.” He gestures toward the house. “Time for some coffee.”

  I blow out a relieved laugh, grateful we’ve turned this corner after all these years, that he didn’t turn me away as I so often have these past few months. The weight that’s been crushing my chest for years, inhibiting my ability to breathe, has been lifted, allowing my heart to beat the way it’s always wanted to. For Drew.

  “God, I love it when you talk dirty.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Drew

  This past week has been absolute torture, but in the best way possible. I want nothing more than to scream about Brooklyn from the rooftops, take her out, show her off, treat her like the princess I’ve always believed her to be, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until she wipes the slate clean with Wes. As much as I want to kiss her, wrap her in my arms, lose myself in her, I remind myself she’s not mine yet. Until that happens, we’ve agreed to keep things the same between us…in theory.

  In reality, things aren’t the same, not when she’s been at my house for coffee every morning. Watching the sunrise together has given me something to look forward to. There’s an electricity between us as we sit in my back yard, drink our coffee, and watch the world come to life. This time with her has brought me back to life, too.

  Brooklyn’s become my ray of hope when I thought my world was falling apart. Her compassion, her devotion, her love has gotten me through the nights I’ve been plagued with thoughts of what will happen to Alyssa and Charlotte, whether I’ll be able to keep our family together. My initial concern and fear when I received the request for custody modification is now a distant memory. With Brooklyn by my side, I can get through anything.

  I’ve been so content with how things have been going, I’ve all but forgotten about the paternity test results…until I received a phone call from the lab last night saying they were ready. It took hours to work up the courage to open the envelope containing the results, unsure I wanted to come down from the clouds where I’ve been living.

  Now, as I stare at the two pieces of paper containing various numbers in several columns, I wish I hadn’t, wish I’d given myself one more night of happiness, wish the words on Charlotte’s test I’ve been reading over and over weren’t real. But they are. I knew this would be the outcome. It still doesn’t make seeing the truth in black and white any easier.

  The alleged father is excluded as the biological father of the tested child. This conclusion is based on the non-matching alleles observed at the loci listed above with a PI equal to 0. The alleged father lacks the genetic markers that must be contributed to the child by the biological father. The probability of paternity is 0%.

  I want to believe this isn’t real, that I’m having a strange nightmare I’ll soon wake up from. But this paper is real. The ramifications are real. My hatred for my ex is real. I want to find Carla and demand to know how she could have lied. How she could have pretended to love me when she didn’t. How she could do something like this and show no remorse. Those girls are my life. What am I supposed to do now? Will I soon only be able to walk one of them to school in the morning? Will there be an empty seat at Sunday dinner? Will there be one less stocking hanging on the mantle this Christmas?

  How am I going to peer into Charlotte’s eyes and tell her I’m not her real father? How am I going to explain to Alyssa it may be just the two of us from now on? How am I going to walk past Charlotte’s empty bedroom and not break down? How am I going to fill the hole her absence will leave in my heart, in all our hearts?

  Lost in my sorrow, I don’t even hear the front door open or realize there’s someone in my house until a familiar voice pacifies the rage bubbling inside me.

  “Oh, Drew…”

  Instantly, a pair of warm arms wraps around me. Lavender assaults my senses, giving me the comfort I crave. Brooklyn’s exactly what I’ve always hungered for, but now, I can’t go another day without her. I won’t go another day without her, regardless of the gray area we’ve been living in lately.

  “It’ll be okay,” she continues. “It doesn’t matter if she has your blood. She’s still your daughter.”

  “How do I break the news to Charlotte that everything she thought was just a lie?” I choke out, feeling like my heart has been yanked from my chest, as if I’m about to lose part of myself. “That I’m not her father?” I lift my gaze to hers.

  There’s so much concern within her striking green eyes. After everything I’ve put her through, I’m unsure whether I deserve it. I vow to never do anything to lose the devotion she has for me. I could very well lose Charlotte. I can’t lose Brooklyn, too.

  She reaches for me, cupping my cheeks in her hands. “You tell her the truth. That this changes nothing.” Her voice is strong, despite the pain etched on her expression. Pain for what sweet, innocent Charlotte is about to face. Pain for how much this is tearing her apart. Pain for what I’m going through. It’s all there, exposed for me to see.

  “You tell her that being a father is so much more than sharing the same blood or DNA. That your love and respect are what make you family. That no matter what happens, you will always be her daddy. That you’ll still be the one who threatens any guy who comes to pick her up for a date, reminding him that she’s your little girl and if he even thinks about disrespecting her, he’ll have you to deal with.” She swallows hard, blinking back her own tears, her voice softening. “That you’ll put your own life on the line for hers without so much as a hint of hesitation. That you’ll be the one walking her down the aisle to the man of her dreams on her wedding day. Absolutely no one will take that away from you, Drew. No one. You share a history, a bond. A stupid piece of paper can’t erase it.”

  She pauses, licking her lips, her fevered eyes remaining locked on mine. She loosens her grip on my face, but her hands remained glued to my skin, her thumbs caressing the scruff on my chin.

  “Those little girls are so blessed to call you Daddy. They already know that. We all know that. What Carla’s trying to do, how she’s trying to come between you and your girls, well… She forgot how fiercely loyal you are. And maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she never saw that side of you. But I have. I saw it the day I met you. How protective you were of your sister. How protective you became of me, too. But that’s nothing compared to how protective you are of those two little girls. That won’t change. And I will be right by your side every step of the way. I won’t give up on you.”

  Closing her eyes, she leans her forehead on mine. Wetness falls down my cheeks, but it’s not from my tears. It’s from Brooklyn’s. I bring my hands to her face, wiping away her tears with my thumbs, both of us holding onto each other, hoping this connection, this bond, will be strong enough to help us navigate through the stormy and unknown waters we face.

  “Will you be there when I tell them?” I ask softly.

  She inhales a long breath and nods. “Of course, Drew. I’m here for you.” She places a soft kiss on my cheek, the a
nguish that’s plagued me since I picked up this envelope starting to evaporate.

  “I always want you to be here for me.” My words linger in the air for what seems like an eternity before she releases her hold on me, the moment breaking.

  “Drew, we’ve talked about this,” she reminds me, as she’s been prone to do over the past week whenever I attempt to bring up what the future holds for me, for her, for Wes. She steps away, heading toward the kitchen to pour the fresh coffee I prepared. “Not yet.”

  I don’t know what it is about this moment, about feeling like my life’s falling apart, about knowing everything’s about to change, but I’m done waiting. This entire situation with Charlotte reminds me there’s no time like the present, that you may not get another chance to do something. I can’t risk that anymore.

  Jumping up from my barstool, I swiftly close the distance between us. Brooklyn spins around, gasping at what she sees in my eyes. I’ve tried to be strong, to give her space, but she’s the only thing that can stop the despair right now.

  I grip her hip and tug her to me. She sucks in a surprised breath, her eyes floating over my chest before coming back to my face.

  “Drew…,” she whimpers, making no move to free herself, to retreat, to walk away. Our gazes locked, I lower my lips toward hers, my breathing quickening as the space between us disappears.

  “Please, Brooklyn. Don’t tell me to stop.” Desperation overtakes all sense of what’s right and fair. This woman is my weakness, but also my strength. I need that strength more than anything right now. “I know you didn’t want to do anything until you cleared things up with Wes, but we both know which path you’ve chosen. You haven’t worn that ring in over a week now.”

  She glances at her hand, but still appears torn. A ball of guilt settles deep in my stomach over the idea of putting her in this situation, of forcing her to make her decision. Wes will be home in a week, but these past several days have been torture enough. I can’t wait that long. Not any more.