“Finally!” Ramsey exclaims, nearly pumping his fist in the air. “I think this is a really good decision.”
“Yeah,” Monica says. “The last thing you need with a new baby on the way is to have to try to deal with someone so sick only doctors probably know how to deal with.”
She points upstairs.
“If they even know how,” Harlow adds.
“Guys, don’t be mean,” Jensen says, always the peacekeeper.
“We’re not,” Monica protests. “It’s true. She’s sick. She needs help above and beyond what we’re able to give her. You two certainly tried your best and it’s admirable.”
“I’m glad we can all be here together to deal with it,” Ramsey says. “Even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”
“Of course,” Jensen says. “That’s what we do. We’re brothers united, back when we were kids, when we were SEALs together, and now that we’re facing this crisis.”
“Brothers and their wives united,” Whitney jokes, and I start to laugh but abruptly stop.
I feel another pain— most definitely a contraction— coming on, and I grip my stomach. This time, I can’t help but stand up and bend over a little bit, trying to ease the pressure and catch my breath.
“Yeah,” I say, sitting back down after a minute. “This baby just keeps giving me these… practice contractions. Maybe strong Braxton Hicks or something.”
“Hmmm,” Monica says, a concerned look crossing her face. “That looked a lot stronger than Braxton Hicks.”
“Are you sure you’re all right, honey?” Jensen asks, rubbing my back.
“Yes,” I tell him, but I’m really not sure. I guess I’ll find out when I get another contraction.
“Okay,” says Harlow, nodding as if that’s that. “Now we just have to figure out a plan to get Mom to peacefully go to the home.”
“You mean as peacefully as possible,” Ramsey says. “Because there’s no way she’ll go without a fight.”
“I don’t know,” Jensen says, slightly shaking his head. “You guys haven’t been here most of the time she has been staying with us, until pretty recently.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “She was surprisingly peaceful. It was nice. And then this… relapse… or whatever.”
Suddenly I’m struck by a pain so strong I can barely breathe. It seems to grip my windpipe, my stomach, and even my thighs, and squeeze with all its might. At the same time, it seems to want to break my pelvis, because I feel tremendous pain down there as well.
I stand up and move back and forth from one foot to the next.
“Riley!” Monica says. “I know this has been a stressful evening and that stress can cause contractions but I really think this might be the real thing…”
“Are you okay?” Jensen asks at the same time, looking panicked.
“I think I might need a real fitness ball now,” I joke, but before I can even laugh, a gush of liquid comes pouring down my legs.
“Well, I think we’re going to have to make a plan for Mom after I have this baby,” I tell them. “Because I think my water just broke.”
Chapter 9 – Jensen
1 Week Later
It’s a bright and sunny day as we walk to Dad’s gravesite. Riley is carrying our son, whose little eyes are struggling to stay open.
“Hurry,” I whisper. “He is only awake for such small amounts of time during the day.”
“You’re going to be eating these words when he’s older,” Monica says, pulling James by his hand. “Then you’ll be like, ‘It’s bed time, go to sleep, and he’ll be like, ‘No, I don’t waaaaant to!’”
“Hey!” James proclaims. “That sounds like me.”
“It sure does,” Monica says.
“Well, he certainly makes up for it by waking up at night,” Riley says. “He’s got his days and nights mixed up.”
She holds him up close once we get to the gravesite and gather around. “Don’t you?” she asks him, blowing bubbles with her lips. “Don’t you, don’t you, don’t you? You’re a little night owl! But you’re the cutest little owl there ever was. Yes you are, yes you are!”
I smile at how happy she is. She loves our little boy more than life itself. And so do I.
Ramsey and Monica are at our side. We wait a second for Harlow to help Mom down the hill. Then Harlow and Whitney— always the last to arrive anywhere— scurry down it, apologizing with each step.
“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat and then taking our son into my arms. “We’re gathered here today for several reasons, Dad. The first is, Riley and I are happy to introduce you to our son, Andrew Michael Bradford.”
Everyone beams at the little creature who manages to stay awake for one more minute before closing his eyes. I carefully pass him back to Riley, who puts him in a baby carrier she’s wearing on her chest. His eyes open again for just a moment before he snuggles up against her and drifts back off into a peaceful sleep.
Everyone claps and makes comments such as, “Ooooh, so that’s what it is.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I tell Dad, and all of them. “Andrew. And we call him Drew for short. We wanted you to be among the first to know. We didn’t tell anyone else until we could come here today, all together.”
“Drew,” Harlow says, laughing. “I love it.”
“What?” Whitney asks, looking at all of our faces. “I don’t get it.”
“When Jensen was little, he colored all over the walls with a magic marker. Now, you have to understand that he was always Mr. Prim and Proper, insisting everyone’s language was right, like a little know it all.”
“Shut up,” I tell him, but I’m chuckling.
“Jensen kept saying he made art on the wall,” Harlow continues. “When Dad saw it, he obviously became upset. He asked all of us one by one, ‘Who drew on the wall? Did you draw on the wall?’”
Now Ramsey is cracking up just as hard.
“When he got to me, I said, ‘No, Dad, I didn’t,’” he says, picking up the story where Harlow left off. “When he got to Harlow, same answer. But when he got to Jensen, and said, ‘Who drew on it it? You drew on it, didn’t you?’ And Jensen gave himself away by saying, ‘No, Daddy, my name’s not Drew! It’s Jensen! Jensen made the art on the wall!”
Now everyone laughs, and I look over at my own sleeping son again, wondering when the day will come that he will inevitably draw on the wall.
“He didn’t want whoever this mysterious ‘Drew’ was to get credit for his artwork,” Ramsey says, laughing.
“Dad was laughing so hard that Jensen didn’t even get into trouble,” Harlow says.
“He was always Dad’s favorite,” Ramsey says. “He never really got into trouble.”
“Guess that’s why I got into so much trouble when I was a bit older,” I say, shrugging.
Riley takes my hand and squeezes it. I’m reminded of the very first day I laid eyes on her— when I was in jail, of all places. I knew then that I had to have her. And now I do.
“From that day on, Dad would tease me and call me Drew,” I say, taking over the story. “Especially when I did anything wrong. He would say, ‘Drew, was that you again?’ And these assholes over here—” I pointed to my brothers— “would say, ‘You better tell on yourself Jensen, or else he’ll think it was Drew, doing everything better and worse than you.’”
Everyone laughs, even Mom. I’m amazed at how peacefully she’s taking this transition. She was apologetic when she came to the next morning and found out she had slept through the birth of her grandson. Riley’s labor had been nearly as quick as its onset, and Drew was born within just a few hours.
We’d been pretty sure we wanted to name him Drew but when he arrived, we were sure of it. His angelic face looked like it was saying, “I’ll never do a thing wrong in my whole life. Blame Drew, not me!”
So we’d spent two days in the hospital and Mom kept coming to try to meet Drew and apologize but we’d not let her in. We explained to her on the p
hone that it wasn’t personal— we wanted Dad to meet the baby at the same time everyone else did. So now here we are, except earlier today we’d sat down with Mom for a heart to heart. She was so glad we were still talking to her that she’d agreed to anything we’d asked.
“That’s such a beautiful story,” Whitney says. “And what a great name for Mr. Drew. A constant reminder of what an awesome grandpa he had.”
“He really was,” says Mom, and we all turn to look at her, kind of surprised. “Now I would like to tell you the other reason we came today.”
Now we’re all very surprised. Mom rarely comes to visit Dad and we’ve certainly never heard her talk like this before.
We all just stare at her, waiting for her to continue, and not being able to believe our ears.
Chapter 10 – Jensen
“I’m going to be going to Albuquerque Acres, which sounds fancy but it’s really just a home for old crazy addicts like me.”
No one knows whether to laugh or cry. We all just look at her, kind of stunned.
“I wanted to come say goodbye to you. I’m sure I’ll be allowed out with relatives, and we can come back, but… I felt I should let you know in person. And to apologize for how I’ve treated you— all of you— in the past.”
Her old, frail hands are shaking, but I take one of them into my own. I’d already been holding Riley’s hand in my other hand. Harlow holds Mom’s other hand and soon we’re making a circle around Dad’s grave, all of us holding hands.
“We love you, Mom,” I tell her. “And I’m sure Dad forgives you.”
“Do you forgive me?” she asks, looking at me and then at my brothers.
I take a breath. I know there’s a very big chance she’ll revert back to the selfish, arrogant woman she always has been. I know she is just feeling contrite because of all the heartache she’d put us through before Drew was born. But she had never asked us for forgiveness before, and I figure there’s no better time or place to make peace.
“Yes,” I tell her, and Harlow and Ramsey say the same.
“But I put you through so much,” she says, tears rolling down her eyes. “I’m just beginning to realize, nearly too late, the full extent of it.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” Ramsey says, reaching out to pat her hand on top of my own. “We really do forgive you.”
“We’ve been through worse,” Harlow says, and I have to give him that. He’s definitely been through worse— and I guess he’s right that we all have. “But we have each other, brothers united through thick and thin. And the love of the women— and children— in our lives, to see us through.”
There’s something about the way he says “children” that makes me form a question in my mind. Monica must have the same reaction, because she cocks her head and looks at him, and then at Whitney.
“So, wait a minute,” she says. “I hate to break up the hippy dippy mood around here, but… Whitney, if you were upset because of everything going on with—” she nods her head in Mom’s direction, clearly not wanting to be more specific— “all of this, then, you weren’t worried about getting pregnant?”
“What?” Ramsey asks, shaking his head as if her question does not compute. But Riley is smiling, and I am too, because I know what she’s getting at. “What does one of those things have to do with the other? And, Monica, it’s rude to pry like that…”
“No, it’s okay,” Whitney says, a big smile crossing her face. “Monica was thinking I was upset due to not being able to get pregnant. I was, for a while, but now I have no reason not to be.”
“Really?” Riley says, breaking out of the circle to go hug Monica. Whitney soon joins in, as does my mom. “Congratulations.”
“Yes, really,” Whitney says. “Soon I’ll have one of these.”
She leans over and kisses sleeping Drew on the top of his head. “I just got the positive test last week. We were waiting for the right time to tell you, and this seems as good a time as any.”
“Hooray!” James says, running around in a circle.
“Don’t step on the gravesites,” Ramsey tells him.
I slap Harlow on the back. “Good job, little brother!” I say.
“Yes, great job,” Ramsey says.
“I’m gonna get a cousin,” James says, in a sing-songy toddler voice. “He’s gonna be so cooooooooool.”
“Hey,” Whitney says, laughing. “Maybe it’ll be a she. I know that boys run in the family, but I think it might be time for one of us to have the first girl.”
“I agree,” Riley says, and reaches over to hold my hand again.
“Unless…” Whitney says, looking curiously at Monica. “You guys aren’t…”
“Pregnant again?” Monica laughs. “Hell no. Oops.”
She looks at James and then says, “Heck no. We do want another one, but we’re waiting a little longer.”
“And I’m kind of hoping it’s another boy,” Ramsey says. “Because I think that everyone needs a brother, or two.”
As we walk back up the hill, to take Mom to the new life that awaits her at the home and to put little Drew to bed, I can’t help but agree with him.
Everyone definitely needs two brothers as amazing as my own. Then, as I look down at a sleeping Drew and over at his smiling, happy mommy, I think: and a wife and son as amazing as my own, as well.
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Celeste is a virgin and Maxim is going to change that. But first he's going to tease her- in public- until she just can't take it any more. Will he make her want him so badly that she'll let him take what he wants- her innocence- where he wants it- outside, in broad daylight? Find out in Juliana Conners’ Tease Me
Please continue reading, bonus content follows for your continued enjoyment!
Their Protector: An MC Outlaw Romance
Copyright © 2017 Juliana Conners and Sizzling Hot Reads.
All Rights Reserved.
Chapter 1 – Brynn
"Oh geez. I think this skirt is too short."
I cringe as I look at myself in the mirror, and then at my best friend Riley Bradford.
It’s Halloween night, and I’m second guessing everything. Including this obnoxious cheerleader costume. And the way my ass is hanging out of it.
Sure, it sends the message I’m looking for: Come and get me. I haven’t gotten laid in a long time, and tonight’s the perfect night for it.
"Don't be silly, Brynn," Riley says. "It's Halloween. It's the one time of year when there's no such thing as a skirt that's too short. In fact, Halloween is the excuse that young hot women everywhere use to flaunt their goods without feeling slutty."
"Yeah, but that category doesn’t even apply to me anymore. I'm getting old. And frumpy."
"No, you're not. You look just as hot as you did when we'd go to Halloween parties in law school."
"I’ve gained like twenty pounds since then."
"So? You were hot then but you're even hotter now. Curvaceous is the new skinny."
I roll my eyes. But I love how dear Riley brings a positive spin to everything.
"Remember that one time I went as a ghost?” I ask her. “What the hell was I thinking?"
"I think you were thinking of saving time and money," Riley replies. "You were busy preparing for that big trial coming up in moot court— not to mention studying for midterms— and the easiest and quickest kind of costume was to throw a sheet over your head after cutting some circles out of it for eyes."
"That's true," I agree.
Good old practical and reassuring Riley.
"But I totally ruined my chance to flaunt my goods when I was younger and looked a lot better."
I can't help but reminisce about the past, when I would get laid on the regular. I wish I could be that carefree and fun now, because I haven't gotten any in ages.
On
that note, I peek my head into the living room to make sure my son Caleb is okay. He is, so I go back to looking at myself in the mirror.
Being a mom is the best thing that ever happened to me, even though I wasn't so sure it would be, back when I was first pregnant with Caleb. I didn't even know back then that I'd be a single mom.
I was just scared and unsure— with good reason— of going through a pregnancy with Caleb's dad Steve. My worst fear was that he would bail on us. Which is exactly what happened. But still, I wouldn't trade Caleb for the world.
Ever since then, though, dating and sex have been last on my list of priorities, and I could certainly stand to be fucked good and hard.
Steve was the last person I’d been with in that way. After that he’d taken off, leaving Caleb and me in the dust. So, he must not have thought the sex was worth sticking around any more than we were. I can’t say the sex was worth it myself, although it did produce Caleb, and for that I’m grateful.
"You look great!" Riley is still insisting. "That skirt totally shows off your hourglass figure."
"Awww, thanks Riley."
I can't help but smile at her even though I still feel that the costume is a tad too inappropriate for someone— a mother, no less— my age.
"You always have a way of making me feel better."
"Good,” she responds, her pretty lighting up in a smile. “Because just seeing you makes me feel better."
"I know! It's been way too long. We haven’t seen each other since your wedding."
"And whose fault is that?" Riley laughs, teasingly. "Ms. Big City, Big Firm lawyer."
"I know, I know. I'm way too busy with work. And with Caleb, too."
I look over to the living room again, where Caleb is playing with Riley's son, Drew. To more accurately state the situation, Caleb is not playing with Drew. I've told him three times to share his truck but he just shakes his head and screams "NO!"
Meanwhile, Drew has been glaring at Caleb in between coloring— or, should I say scribbling?— in his Sesame Street coloring book. He's too young to have gotten the actual act of coloring down yet, but he's sure trying.
Cave Man's Captive Page 73
