Only For Forever: An Enemies to Lovers, Small Town Romance (Men of Rocky Mountain)

by Alexis Winter

  “We’ll explore more of that later.” He pulls me back up to my feet, spinning me around until my back is facing his front. “Straddle my legs.”

  I look down as I place a foot on either side of his, with his hands on my waist guiding me backward.

  “Now slowly lower yourself down.”

  I place a hand on each of his knees as I look down between us. His hand grips the base of his cock, the tip poised at my entrance as I slowly lower myself down. I wince at the intrusion and he lifts me up again. We repeat the process, each time my body accepting more and more of his thick manhood.

  “Oh fuck, baby, just like that,” he grunts as I slowly raise and lower myself over the length of him. “Goddamn,” his words are strangled, like he’s gritting his teeth, “you’re so fucking sexy.”

  My slickness builds on his cock as I quicken my pace along with my breath. It’s not long before I’m bouncing up and down on him, his fingertips gripping my hips so tightly I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow.

  We’re both panting and moaning, expletives tumbling from his mouth as he tells me how tight and warm I am, how my body belongs to him, and how nobody fucks him like I do. It feels like just a few moments before we’re both coming, our bodies melting together on the couch, lying in a jumbled pile of sweaty limbs.

  “You weren’t lying.” A giggle bubbles up as I realize he’s still inside me and I’m flopped back fully naked on his body.

  “About what?” I can feel his deep voice rumbling in his chest against my back.

  I turn my head to the side so I can see him. “That what you wanted was going to be demanding. My hour-long intense Pilates class doesn’t even work my thighs like that.”

  He lets out a throaty laugh as he wraps his arms around me and nuzzles my neck. “Oh, sweetheart,” he turns my head again to kiss my lips, “that was just round one.”

  He wasn’t lying. Several hours and so many rounds of vigorous activity that I lost count later, my body is wrecked.

  “You going to be okay tomorrow? Teaching?” He reaches down between my thighs and cups me.

  I laugh and throw my arm over my face in embarrassment at the thought. I don’t know why; it’s not like anyone in class will know why I’m so sore.

  “I’m sure my body will remind me about tonight, but I’ll survive.”

  “Good.” He curls his arm and pulls me against him, planting a kiss on my temple. “I want you thinking about every little thing I did to you tonight, knowing every place I’ve been.”

  My stomach knots. I have the sudden urge to jump the gun and ask the ill-fated question of where is this going? Sudden death to any new relationship. Relationship? Is that what this is? I guess it should be since I’m carrying his baby. The knot gets tighter and my throat constricts. Tell him now, I think to myself, but the moment I open my mouth to say something, I freeze. How do I even say it? Hey, I know we just did the most intimate thing, but I’m hiding something from you and I’ve known for 48 hours now.

  I tell myself that after I go to my doctor’s appointment on Monday, I’ll tell him.

  “I’m sorry, seven weeks? No, that’s not possible. I’ve only missed one period.”

  Doctor Soreson turns from the screen with the rapid-fire heartbeat toward me, his brows furrowed as if to say I’m the doctor here.

  “Well, cycles aren’t always consistent, even if you are newly pregnant. If you’ve been stressed or overworked lately, or more active than normal, your body could’ve gotten off your typical ovulation window.”

  I think back to the weeks of back-to-back Pilates classes and the days of stressing out over where and when my studio will get off the ground.

  “Yeah, okay.” I just nod my head as he continues to explain what’ll happen next as he removes the transvaginal ultrasound wand and removes his gloves. He hands me a bag with prenatal vitamins and pamphlets on pregnancy and instructs me to make my next appointment before I leave.

  I stroll down Main Street in a complete daze. I run my thumb over the sonogram picture in my pocket, pulling it out to look at it for the hundredth time. I feel tears prick my eyes as I place my hand over my belly. It all feels so real now, so vivid. I feel a warmth spreading throughout my body as I smile to myself.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to be a mom.” My hand immediately flies up to my mouth as if saying it out loud suddenly makes it real.

  “Leigh?” I spin around, shoving the picture in my pocket.

  “Hey, August!” I take a few steps forward to close the distance between us and envelop her in a hug.

  “You look amazing—like you’re glowing,” she coos.

  “How are you? How’s married life?” I smile.

  “It’s actually really amazing. I still can’t believe it actually.” She holds her hand out and admires her wedding ring. She loops her arm through mine. “I still can’t say thank you enough.”

  “Don’t be crazy, it was all you guys. You both just needed to pull your heads out of your asses.” I laugh.

  “I need to pop into this baby boutique. Willow’s son is turning one next month so I want to get something for him. You have time to hang out?”

  Baby boutique? I’ve lived here almost a year and didn’t know this place existed.

  “Yeah, for sure.” I smile and follow her inside. I trail behind her as she flips through different items, filling me in on her honeymoon and married life. I’m trying to listen but I’m distracted by the tiny footies on the end of the pants, and the adorable little shoes that look like they’re barely the size of a teaspoon. It’s like a brand-new world is opening up to me—one I’ve never paid attention to at all.

  “What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”

  “Hmm? Oh, no, not really. Just busy with the studio stuff,” I lie . . . again.

  “Speaking of, that standalone building we saw just had a price reduction, so it might be snatched up pretty soon. If you still want it, let me know and we can submit an offer.”

  It’s after 7 p.m. by the time I get home. Between teaching, the doctor’s appointment, and the impromptu run-in with August, I’m exhausted and starving. I pull a premade meal I prepped Sunday night and pop it in the microwave while I shower.

  My phone buzzes as I wrap a towel around myself. Grant’s name on the screen instantly puts a smile on my face.

  Grant: What are you doing tomorrow night?

  Me: No plans. Why?

  Grant: I’m coming over. I’m making you my mother’s famous pasta with arrabbiata. I’ll bring the groceries. ;)

  Me: That sounds lovely. You bring the food, I’ll have the wine.

  As soon as I hit SEND I realize my mistake. Shit! I can’t have wine.

  Grant: Perfect. Now don’t stay up too late. Need you well-rested tomorrow . . . by the way, how are you feeling?

  That familiar tingle is back in my lower belly.

  Me: Not sure, doc. Might need a full exam tomorrow. ;)

  Grant: I’ll be sure to do a VERY thorough exam. Have a good night.

  Me: Night.

  After my shower, I eat dinner on the couch watching back-to-back episodes of House Hunters until I drift off to sleep.

  The sun streams through my front blinds that I forgot to close the night before. I glance around, taking a moment to register that I slept on the couch all night. I must have really been tired. I sit up, stretching my arms overhead, when I feel a sharp pain in my lower belly.

  “Ouch!” I drop my arms, covering my stomach as I stand to get some water. The pain subsides into a dull achy cramp as I move around the kitchen. I rub my belly again, a small flutter of panic at the pain, but I tell myself I’m overreacting and that I should just call the doctor once they’re open.

  I walk to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it warm up. I yawn, staring at my reflection as I pull my shirt over my head, followed my shorts and underwear. I kick them to the side and open the shower door, stepping inside as the warm water runs over my shoulders. I let my head loll forwa
rd, closing my eyes as I breathe in the steam.

  I open my eyes—about to turn to grab the shampoo—when I notice the water at my feet has a pinkish hue. It doesn’t register for a second before panic grips me and I look at my thighs, where a bright-red stream is running down my leg and onto the shower floor.

  The next few hours are a complete blur. I don’t even remember driving to the doctor, but as I lie on my back, the doctor’s expression goes from puzzled to dread, and I already know what the words will be before he says them.

  “There’s no detectable heartbeat.”

  Tears fall from the corners my eyes—down my cheeks and onto the paper beneath me. I stare up at the ceiling, my heart shattering into a million little pieces. How did I go from finding out I was pregnant to losing my baby all within 48 hours? Images of those tiny onesies I was looking at yesterday flash through my brain and my entire body begins to shake as a sob tears through my chest. In this moment, I understand what people mean when they speak of inconsolable loss.

  12

  Grant

  I juggle the bag of groceries, moving it to my hip as I reach for Leigh’s door handle. I turn it, but it’s locked. I knock on the door.

  “Leigh? It’s Grant.”

  I knock a second time, reaching into my pocket to pull out my phone. I double-check to see if I missed a text or call from her, but there’s nothing. I’d meant to send her a text when I was leaving the hospital, but I was already running late and still had to swing by the grocery store.

  “Leigh!” I shout, trying not to let my irritation boil over into actual anger at the fact that she’s blowing me off again. I turn to walk back down the stairs when I hear the click of the lock on her door before it slowly opens just a few inches.

  “Hey, you are ho—” I stop when I see her red, swollen face.

  “Leigh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” I gasp, putting my hand on the door and pushing it open to step inside. Her lip quivers and she shakes her head as she bursts into tears. I place the bag on the floor, reaching out and pulling her to me.

  “Come here,” I say as I wrap my arms around her shaking body. She crumples against me, her sobs echoing through the room like a wounded animal.

  “Leigh, what happened? What’s going on?”

  I pull her off me so I can look in her eyes, but it’s no use. She’s shaking her head, snot and tears running down her face as she chokes on her own sobs.

  “Th-the—I lost the . . .” she stutters, and I pull her back against me.

  “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Whatever it is, it can wait. I’m not leaving.” I walk her over to the couch, holding her against me as we sink down into it.

  I’m at a loss. I rub her back, whispering over and over to her that whatever it is, she’s going to be okay. Worry inches its way up my throat, churning my stomach, but I push it down. Now isn’t the time to get scared. She needs me to be her rock.

  We lie together for what feels like hours—and it very well could be since I don’t know what time it is. Her sobs eventually subside, replaced by heavy breathing. I glance down, trying not to move, and see that her eyes are closed, her lips are slightly parted, and she’s drifted off to sleep on my chest. I lean my head down, softly kissing her hair before closing my own eyes and leaning back against the couch, allowing sleep to take me too.

  My eyes open and I blink a few times in the darkness trying to remember where I am. I look down my body just as Leigh moves to sit up.

  “Hey,” I whisper, reaching out to cup her face. Her tears have finally dried, but her face is still puffy and swollen, a line running across one cheek where she was pressed against my shirt.

  “Hi,” she whispers back.

  We both sit in silence for several moments before she speaks again.

  “I’m sorry,” she mutters, her lower lip beginning to quiver again.

  “Shh, no, you don’t owe me an apology for anything. We don’t need to talk about it right now,” I say, pushing her matted hair out of her face.

  “No, we do.” She stands up and walks over to the fridge to grab us both a bottle of water.

  I spin my body around and plant my feet on the couch as she returns and sits next to me. The nervousness starts bubbling up again. She takes a sip of water, placing the bottle on the coffee table as she begins to fidget with the lid, her leg bouncing up and down erratically. I reach out, grabbing her hand.

  “Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

  She nods her head and looks over at me, her eyes so full of sadness.

  “I—I was pregnant.”

  “Wha—uh, when?” I’m so confused.

  “Now. Yesterday. I just found out Friday night. I missed my period after we . . . the first time, so I took a test and it was positive. I went to the doctor and he said I was se—” Her lips starts to quiver again and a stray tear tumbles down her cheek. She sniffs and wipes it away, letting out a shaky breath. “I was seven weeks and things were fine, but just a few hours later, I took a shower and there was blood and, and . . .” The sobs take over her body again and I pull her in for a hug.

  “I’m so sorry, Leigh.” I rub her back and her words are still sinking in. I’m so confused. The baby was mine? I have a million questions but now isn’t the time.

  “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out.” She shakes her head, more tears flowing down her red cheeks.

  “I told myself that after my doctor’s appointment yesterday, I would tell you when you came over tonight, but I didn’t get the chance.” Her words are broken as she cries. “I lost the baby.”

  It feels like my own heart is breaking as I watch her fall apart. I can’t imagine what she’s going through as a woman—a would-be mother. My own pain is slicing through my heart as tears pool in my eyes.

  The entire night is a cycle of this: Leigh crying, apologizing, and trying to form words and thoughts while I hold her. As she lies on my chest, finally back to sleep, my own thoughts drift to what could have been.

  I would’ve been a father? My thoughts and feelings are jumbled. I can’t make sense of what I feel. One second, I feel utterly broken that my baby is gone, and the next, I’m relieved, and then I feel shame and guilt for feeling relief.

  I tell myself that I’d be ruining Leigh’s life. She’s only 25, and she’s got her entire life ahead of her—her Pilates studio and expanding business. The last thing she needs is to be tied to an almost-38-year-old doctor who barely has time to sleep.

  But the reality is, I’d give anything to be a father. Mine was my hero. I want to give my mom grandchildren. As an only child, I’m her only chance at having them.

  Lately, I’ve felt like my life is completely out of my control. After my engagement to August fell through, I no longer trusted my gut. I thought we would build a life together. I now know that she wasn’t meant for me—that Remington would love her more than I ever could. I realize I was rushing into a life with someone because I wanted a family, but I need to take time to heal—to focus on being happy before I try to use someone else to fill that void.

  Every day, the pain in Leigh’s eyes seems to disappear a little more. We’ve developed a routine. I come by after work and cook dinner. We eat—though I usually have to force her to—and then we lie on the couch while she cries. I eventually wake her to take a shower and then put her to bed. Some nights I stay, but some nights I have to be on call, so I either drive back to Denver or stay at my lake house to give her some space.

  “You sure you’re ready?” I ask as she pulls on a pair of leggings and tosses a hoodie over her sports bra.

  “Yeah, I think I need to return to some sense of normalcy for the sake of my mental health.” She smiles. It’s small, but it’s the first time I’ve seen it in over a week. I smile back.

  “Well, if you’re ready, then I support it.”

  It feels weirdly calming that she and I have managed to fall into a routine so easily. Over the last 10 days, whenever I’ve slept over like I have t
oday, I make coffee, prepare breakfast, and then make sure she eats it. I go to work and text her throughout the day to check in on her. Sometimes I come back to her place to bring her lunch, and then I repeat the same process for dinner.

  “Hey,” she says, reaching out and grabbing my hand, “thank you. I don’t know how I would’ve made it through this without you.”

  I pull her into a warm embrace. She feels so good in my arms. She lifts her head to look at me, her eyes dropping from my eyes to my lips before leaning in to close the distance. We haven’t been intimate since she lost the baby, and I would never dream of pressuring her. Her lips move against mine, her tongue darting out to push through my lips. The kiss grows rapidly from soft and sweet to heated and passionate. I put my hands on her shoulders, pushing her back softly.

  “Leigh, honey, I don’t want you to feel obligated to—” I motion between us, “be intimate with me.”

  She nods her head slowly, reaching for my tie and pulling me back to her lips.

  “I need this, Grant, please. Please make me feel whole again,” she whispers against my mouth.

  “Aaaand release. Well done, everyone, only two more poses left. You got this!” Leigh instructs the class through the final phases of our workout. I wink at her and she smiles, shaking her head at me like she always does when I distract her.

  “You’ve been working extra hard lately, Dr. Rossi,” she says coyly as everyone mills about after class, putting away their mats and weights.

  “Thanks, Ms. Brooks, I’ve, uh, really enjoyed your thorough lessons. Keeps me limber off the mat when I’m doing . . . other activities. Plus I’ve been doubling up on my workouts. Had an incredible one this morning.” I wink again and she blushes before bursting out laughing.

  It feels like it’s impossible to hide our attraction for each other. I’m pretty sure anyone who’s within a 15-mile radius of us can sense the sexual tension.