by Enders, KC
“You gonna make it home, or do I need to gun it?” I glance at him and give the accelerator a little extra gas, just in case.
“I’m good,” he answers. But the minute we pull into the driveway, Jake is out of the truck and running for the keypad on the garage door.
I unload the back of the truck, setting the table and planting crap to the side. The bench I hoist out and carry to the far back corner of the yard. I place it under the cherry tree Chloe insisted on and angle it so that, hopefully, at least a small portion of it will sit in the shade.
I turn my head at the sound of a small grunt to find Jake lugging the full bag of potting soil across the yard.
“Didn’t want to grab something a little lighter?” I ask.
“I can do it,” he says, heaving the bag to the ground, narrowly missing a mound of flowers Chloe planted last weekend. He lunges, catching the bag at the last second and flopping it in the other direction.
“Nice save. Let’s go haul the rest of the stuff and let Bronson out while we make this pretty for Mom.”
It doesn’t take all that long to move the side table back or plant the flowers in the pot. The lady at the garden store had me take a picture of what the finished product was supposed to look like, so when all is said and done, it looks slightly better than a hack job slapped together by an unsupervised bachelor and a kid.
“Hey, that looks kinda nice,” Jake says with authority, his hands propped on his hips. “We make a good team.”
“That we do.” I glance at my watch. Several hours have passed since Chloe left this morning. “Your mom should be home soon. Let’s go swap out cars real quick.”
I gather up the trash from our planting project and head around the front of the house to see Chloe stepping out of the driver’s side of Maggie, her huge tote bag hanging from her shoulder.
“Hey. That took some time. I didn’t realize she was that dirty.”
My gaze wanders over Chloe, noting that, while she looks fresh, her hair damp and face scrubbed clean of any makeup, the car she took for detailing doesn’t look any shinier than it did before she left. The muscle in my jaw pops as I work through how to ask where the hell she’s been all day. I pull my shoulders back and blow out a breath, preparing to ask, when Chloe sighs.
“Shit. I can’t do this.”
My heart stops, dread filling me. With my sunglasses in place, I have the advantage of cataloging her body language, picking apart each shift and movement to try and determine the depth of her deception.
“I don’t want to lie, but I can’t tell you everything. I didn’t get your truck detailed today. I thought I’d have time, but I didn’t. I’m sorry—”
“No apologies. We’re not starting that shit up again. Where were you, Chloe?” I demand.
“Out,” she says, squaring herself in front of me. Whatever nerves she was toying with a minute ago are replaced with a confidence that I’d find sexy as shit if I wasn’t wondering what she had been doing and who she had been with that she needed to shower before coming home. “It’s a surprise, something special I wanted to do for you, but I can’t tell you about it yet. I need a couple weeks.”
“And you needed my truck for this?” I question, brows arched.
She pushes past me, heading for the house. “I did.”
I follow her through the garage and into the house. “Secrets don’t make friends,” I say.
Chloe stops and drops her bag to the floor. The clothes inside it shift to the side, giving me a glimpse of her fuck-hot bright red shoes, the white blouse, a neatly folded dark blue something that could very well be the skirt that perfectly molds to her ass—exactly the outfit I told her I’d jacked off to after dinner at Liam and Natalie’s.
I can’t stop the smirk from spreading across my face. I don’t do anything to stop myself as I prowl across the room to her. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her hard and deep, swiping my tongue across the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. Devouring her. I hold her against me, reveling in the feel of her, in the way we’re connected. Her breasts smash against me, and our hips press into each other, my thigh wedged between her legs, tight against her core.
When Chloe is good and breathless, I murmur against her lips, “You’re fucking perfect.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Chloe
Jake bursts through the back door, Bronson trotting along behind him, and I jump back from Miles. I don’t have any illusions that Jake is completely clueless that something’s going on with Miles and me. I’m just not ready for him to walk in on anything, and that kiss was quickly turning into something more than anything.
“Mom, did Miles tell you our secret?” Excitement shines in his eyes as he takes in what is obviously an embrace.
My concern over how Jake might react to seeing me with someone other than his dad skitters away. I slide my hands from Miles’s sides, where I was pulling him to me, to his grooved abs where I’m playfully pushing him away. “Secret? Someone once told me that those don’t make friends.”
Miles lets out an oof, taking a step back and wrapping his arms loosely around his middle. It’s apparent to all of us that he’s faking the effects of being shoved. Hopefully, Jake misses the adjustment Miles makes to his erection, which was just pressed hard against me.
“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that,” he mutters through a smirk.
Jake cocks his head like a puppy. “Wait, I don’t get it. Aren’t you guys friends? Does that mean … what about the secret?” he asks.
“What secret, Jake? Go ahead and tell me.”
I reach into the fridge and pull out ingredients for dinner. Baby potatoes, fresh green beans, and a pork tenderloin coated in cracked black pepper. While I wash the potatoes and prep them to roast, Jake looks to Miles, his brows arched high, a silent conversation marked with wild, exaggerated facial expressions and flailing hands. And when I glance over my shoulder at Miles, I’m relieved to see he looks as clueless as I feel.
“Jake, just spill it already. It’s not like we’re going to be able to hide it from her until Mother’s Day.” A deep belly laugh tumbles from Miles.
“Okay, so, Mom, listen to this, just listen. Oh my glorb, it was so flipping crazy.” Jake jumps into his story, and now, it’s Miles’s turn to tilt his head from side to side, trying to figure out where this story is going. “So, we went and picked up that bench you wanted, so we could surprise you for Mother’s Day because you’re the best mom in the entire world— I’m not even joking. And—”
“Wait, you guys went to that neighborhood that you said was sketchy—too sketchy—for me to go to?” I glare at Miles, who shrugs almost apologetically.
Jake continues. “Yeah, but that’s ’cause we’re the men and being chiva …”
“Chivalrous,” Miles finishes for him.
“Right, chivalrous. That’s it. We were being chivalrous, and that’s one of the rules, so it’s okay. So, we got it and the extra table that the guy had, too. And then we stopped and got flowers and dirt and stuff. And then, Miles said we could go get a drink from the fainting store, and—”
“Really?” I ask. “That’s what we’re calling it?”
“It fits.” Miles grins, nodding toward the back door. “We should show your mom how nice it looks.”
“Yeah, sure. But then, when we were leaving and getting in the truck, this kid runs out of the store with a lady’s bag—her, um … her …”
“Purse?” I tense, my knuckles turning white around the handle of my knife. I don’t like where this story is headed.
“Yeah, her purse. And so, people run out, yelling, and Miles jumps out of the truck and takes off running after the guy. And Miles is fast, Mom—like, really fast.”
Jake’s gesturing wildly, and I’ve already lost count of how many times he’s said like, and, and so, but I’m not at all excited with the direction this story is taking.
“And I stayed in the truck, just like Miles told me to. I stayed there,
and I stuck my head out and talked to the lady. Told her that Miles would get her stuff back ’cause he’s like a hero and stuff. And—”
“You … wait … you …” I can’t even begin to wrap my head around the fact that my child was not just at a convenience store without me—something I have been adamant about not happening ever—but he was also there during a robbery.
“And then police cars came, and one went flying past—like, really fast. And the other one pulled in, and he—that cop—talked to the lady and the store manager and then, and then, and then he came over to Miles’s truck and waited with me and the lady, and we all waited until Miles came running back. And the police guy, he said …”
As my eyes slam shut, I raise my hand, palm out, wanting nothing more than to stop everything—the words, the story, the worst of my fears playing out in a nightmare come to life. My heart races, my breaths come in shallow pants, and though I’m home, and I know we’re all safe, the wave of panic pulls at me. I open my eyes, needing to orient myself.
One. Deep breath in.
Two. Hold it.
Three …
My vision tunnels, blackness closing in on me at an alarming rate, and I feel the floor slipping away beneath me.
A faint echo of, “Goddamn it. Stay with—”
And then it all goes blank.
* * *
“All right, son, wring it out good and hand it to me. Perfect.”
Cold water hits the back of my neck, clinging to me in a way that doesn’t make sense. Seconds tick by but everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion until my eyelids crease and finally crack open.
“There she is.” Miles’s voice is deep but calm, wrapping around me in a soothing cocoon of soft, cool velvet. “Jake, hand me a bottle of water.”
“Is this my fault? I didn’t mean to …”
The sound of sorry-filled guilt, trepidation oozing out of Jake jolts through me like a slap across the face, throwing me into mama-bear mode. I sit up, pushing against the support holding me upright.
“Stop.” I push hard, earning a loud oof from behind me as I launch my ass onto the kitchen floor, a cold, damp cloth falling away from my neck. Chills race down my spine as my blood boils in my veins.
“Chloe, take it easy,” Miles says.
“Don’t.” I scramble to get my feet under me, wobbling slightly with the sudden movement.
In a flash, Miles is on his feet next to me, steadying me. “Careful, babe. Calm—”
“No. Just no.” I shove his hands away. “Don’t you tell me to calm down. Don’t you fucking dare.”
Jake gasps, saying, “Mom,” at the same time Miles’s chin jolts back, surprise battling with concern.
He reaches out again, but I push away, feeling like a trapped animal, scared and cornered.
“What made you think that was okay? That you could endanger my child like that?” My voice sounds foreign to me, high-pitched and shaky. A part of me knows that I’m overreacting. Not a lot, but enough. I should calm down—at least for Jake’s sake—but I can’t. I just can’t.
“Chloe, please. He was safe. I would never—”
“You don’t know that,” I scream.
Miles turns to look over his shoulder. “Jake, go on upstairs for a minute, okay? Let’s give your mom some space. I promise, I’ll be up in a just a little bit.”
“Yes, sir,” Jake says, tears in his eyes, feet pounding up the stairs.
Miles turns back to me, hands resting on his hips, and he just waits … though not for long. The moment I hear Jake’s bedroom door slam closed, I let loose my fears.
“Do you not get it? Do you just not get the significance? My husband—Jake’s father—died in a robbery just like that. In a convenience store, just like that. Kids fucking around, stealing shit, and Dallas died. He had been trained, same as you. Fought. Pulled multiple tours, and he fucking died, Miles. He died. Do you have any idea what that feels like?
“And you took the last of him—the last remaining bit of my husband—my innocent child, and you knowingly left him in a situation that was already dangerous. You left him alone. How could you for a minute think that was okay? How can you stand there and spout shit about not keeping secrets when you didn’t even have the balls to tell me what had happened today?”
My heart pounds against my ribs, and blood rushes hot through my veins. Black spots pop up in front of me, and I feel my vision clouding, tunneling again.
“Breathe in, two, three, four. Hold. Out, two, three, four.” Miles walks me through the exercise, counting for me as I try to calm down.
I close my eyes and allow it, doing all I can not to pass out again. I’m all Jake has. I have to keep my shit together and protect him, keep him safe.
“What do you think I was doing, Chloe? Jake was safe. Completely safe. The windows were down, the vehicle was locked, and I had the fob. If he unlocked that door, the alarm would have sounded. I would never put Jake or you in harm’s way. Not ever,” he says as if responding to what I thought were strictly my thoughts. “Yes, you totally said all of that out loud. But you’re not alone, Chloe, not in this.”
I want to melt into his words, wrap myself up in the promise he made. Cocoon myself in a life that includes Miles.
“I’m here. I’m with you guys, one hundred percent.” He closes the distance between us, his big palms warm against my cheeks as he gently cups my face. “There is no place in the world I’d rather be, no one I’d rather be with. You and Jake are all I need.”
Deep chocolate eyes, flecked with hints of gold, scan my face, searching, waiting. The smallest tug of pressure against the back of my skull guides me closer to Miles.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I can’t lose him, Miles.”
“I know. I won’t jeopardize that. I won’t risk it.”
“He’s my world.” I beg him to understand, to truly understand the devastation that losing my child would cause me.
“Please,” he pleads, so much pain and yearning overflowing in that one word. “Please believe me. Give me another chance. Forgive me. I don’t want to lose either of you.” His lips hover just above mine. “Please.” A breath away.
I nod, the movement barely perceptible but enough that Miles skates his lips over mine. Kissing me softly. Gently. Need pushes us together, but fear of loss, of smothering this flame, holds me back from completely letting go.
“Miles,” I whisper against his lips, “no more secrets. None, not ever.”
Is it fair of me to demand this? I don’t honestly know. We all have secrets, little ones. Gifts, surprise dinners, happy things. But not the big stuff. There’s no room for secrets in the life-and-death things.
The shift is small, and I can’t really decide if it’s a shift toward me or away. Maybe it’s just a settling acceptance, but when Miles pulls back from me, I feel lost in a way I hate down to my very soul.
“There are things I can’t share, not until they’re done. I have a trip to California coming up. I don’t know exactly when or how long I’ll be gone, but I have to go. There are things I have to take care of.” His gaze darts back and forth between my eyes, searching, begging. Pleading for me to understand.
I suck a deep breath in and slowly push it out. “Work.” I don’t even bother to pose it as a question because I know, without a doubt, that there are things he absolutely can’t tell me. Details I can’t know. There’s a level of trust that’s required for being with a man like Miles, like Dallas, or any one of these men who put their lives on the line for us. Who live dangerously so that we can live free.
“As long as we have honesty at home, no secrets between us.”
Miles answers me with a kiss, so deep, so full of desire that everything else is forgiven.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Miles
“Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you … do you still love her?” Natalie asks the question I’ve been asking myself for years.
And finally, I ha
ve the answer.
“Aly?”
“Yeah.”
“I will always love her; she was my wife. She gave me the most beautiful gift I could have ever imagined. But it’s over between us.”
“So, you’re not hoping to be with her again? Restart your life together when she’s better, get remarried when she gets out?”
I don’t know how I got so lucky to have Natalie as my friend. I adore my sister, but Natalie is like the big sister I didn’t have. She doesn’t hold back. Doesn’t take sides. Doesn’t shy away from difficult discussions.
“No, Lee. Aly’s not going to get better. And I can’t. There’s no way I can ever forget what she did. I will never be able to look at her and not see the bloody knife clutched in her hand. I will never not see my daughter’s lifeless body lying in her bassinet. I can forgive Aly in a way because of how sick she was—is. I missed the signs—”
Natalie cuts me off midsentence. “So did the doctors.”
Ryan’s said the same thing to me. Not just once. He says it every single time we talk. Every single time.
“I know. But as sad—as mad as I am, I own that I could’ve done more. I should have. And while I’m willing to entertain forgiveness, I can’t forget. And I can’t see her anymore. The best I can do is make sure she’s taken care of and that she has access to the help she needs and isn’t just locked up with murderers and drug addicts. Deliberation didn’t take long, and sentencing was even faster. I’m glad she’s in an institution—her new place should be a good fit for her—but I have to walk away. This was good-bye. One hundred percent good-bye.”
My long stride eats up the distance between security and my gate. I’m seven hours away from my future. A flight away from a family that I feel like I’m a part of.
Chloe and Jake are perfect, solid. I’m not afraid of hard work, dirty diapers, or sleepless nights. I’m not afraid of babies or kids, tweens or teenagers. Parenting doesn’t scare me any more than the next guy just because of what I’ve gone through. I think it’s life’s greatest adventure, and I want to climb on to that roller coaster and live it with them.
