by Janice Lynn
Brielle’s mouthed “You should have been there” had continually played through his head.
He should have been there.
He would have been there.
Had he known.
She didn’t glance up as he dropped into the chair next to hers. Neither did she acknowledge him in any way. Which was an acknowledgement of its own. One that said, Go away.
“Tell me about Justice’s birth.”
She didn’t look up, just closed her eyes and swallowed.
“Please,” he added, when she didn’t say anything.
“What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
“I went into labor at seven months and had to have a Cesarean section when Justice got into trouble. He was in the hospital for six weeks after his birth but other than being a little small for his age he’s fully recovered.”
To look at his son one would never know that he’d once fought for life.
Ross pictured what Justice must have looked like, a premature infant hooked to multiple tubes and wires, and the image gutted him. How much worse it must have been for Brielle to have lived each day with their son’s life teetering on the edge. How much worse that she had to endure that alone.
“Was Vann with you?”
“He’d meant to be in the delivery room, but everything happened so fast that I delivered alone. He stayed with me afterwards, helped me keep focused on what was important—Justice. I couldn’t have made it through that time without him.”
“You could have, but I’m glad you didn’t have to, that he was there for you.”
He didn’t say it was because he hadn’t been there. He didn’t have to. They both finished the sentence in their heads.
Brielle swallowed, then stood. “I can’t do this. Not right now.” She glanced around the emergency room as if searching for something to do, but there weren’t any new patients and the ones currently in bays had more than sufficient nursing care already. “I...I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Or anywhere I’m not,” he added for her, as she rushed away from him.
Ross couldn’t say coming to Bean’s Creek was a mistake. It hadn’t been. But coming here, thinking that Brielle could ever forgive him, had been foolish.
Perhaps too much had happened for them to ever be able to forgive each other, but somehow for Justice’s sake they had to at least try.
* * *
A week later Brielle stared across the breakfast table at a local diner where Ross and Justice sat. Much as he had since Ross had entered his life, Justice had insisted on sitting beside Ross. He couldn’t seem to get enough of his father and thus far Ross hadn’t seemed to mind. Actually, he seemed to soak up every morsel of Justice’s attention and want more.
When Justice struggled to cut up his pancakes, Brielle automatically reached for his plate, meaning to cut them into bite-sized pieces, as she usually did.
“No, my daddy will do it.”
Brielle froze, her gaze going to Ross’s then lowering because she didn’t want him to see how her son’s words had affected her. She wasn’t quite sure how to label her emotions, but for Justice’s sake she just smiled and nodded.
“That’s fine, Justice. Your dad can cut your pancakes for you.”
For the most part she may as well not even be at the table and they wouldn’t miss her. Although her son knew she was there, he was all over his new-found father. With the dogged persistence of a curious four-year-old he drilled Ross with question after question, although some of them he’d asked Ross more than a dozen times since his arrival in their lives.
Ross patiently answered each one, never seeming to tire of Justice’s boundless energy and curiosity.
Where have you been?
Where’s Boston?
Do you have other kids?
Brielle’s heart stopped on that one. Never had she considered the possibility that Ross might have had other children along the way.
“No other kids, just you.” Ross’s gaze met Brielle’s. “At least, no other kids that I know of.”
If he expected her to crawl under the table in shame, he would be sadly disappointed. She wouldn’t. She’d done the best she could given the circumstances at the time. She’d done what she’d thought had been right.
No one was perfect.
But watching Justice soak up every morsel of attention Ross gave him, Brielle had to concede that her son did need a father. Had needed one all along.
Something that she’d denied him by omission. For that, she was sorry.
“Justice, Ross can barely eat for talking. Let him finish his meal, baby, then you can ask him more questions.”
Justice nodded, was quiet for almost an entire thirty seconds, staring at Ross expectantly as he took a bite then another. After three bites Ross set his fork down, probably to have a drink, but Justice started back with more questions.
“What are we going to do today?”
It was their first full day off work and preschool together since the morning Ross had moved into her house.
“What would you like to do today?” Ross countered, grinning at his son. Ross always had smiles for Justice, and patience. Had she ever allowed herself to think about what kind of father Ross would be, she’d have fallen short on the reality. Then again, all this was still new to him and perhaps he’d get bored before long.
“Mommy and I like to go fishing.”
Casting a look toward her, Ross’s eyes grew wide. “Fishing?”
Justice nodded.
At Ross’s shock, Brielle lifted her chin. “You didn’t think I was taking my son to ballet and baking classes, did you?”
“I would like to think you were keeping our son well rounded and that if he was interested in the arts or baking classes you’d be open-minded.”
That surprised her. She would have taken Ross as a man’s man who wouldn’t want his son doing anything girly.
“What’s well rounded?” Justice asked, glancing back and forth between them.
“It means you get to try a lot of different things in life.”
“Like cinnamon pancakes?” Justice gestured to his plate, not something Brielle would regularly have wanted him to order as she encouraged him to eat healthily, but she’d given in to Ross’s insistence that today was a special occasion. She supposed in some ways it was. Their first full family day with no work, no school, no moving into her house. Ross was there and seemingly settled in for...for how long?
No, she wouldn’t think about that right now. She’d focus on Justice. His happiness and well-being was what mattered most.
“Yes, like cinnamon pancakes,” she answered her son, smiling at his cherubic face, which had a smudge of syrup on his cheek.
“And fishing?”
Brielle nodded, reaching across the table to clean the smudge with her napkin.
Clean faced, Justice turned big, imploring eyes on Brielle. “Is my daddy going to take us fishing? That’s what daddies do. April from preschool said so.”
To hear how quickly Justice had taken to calling Ross Daddy, to thinking of him as his daddy told Brielle how hungry her son had been for a father. That made her feel sad, as if she’d somehow not been enough.
How eager he was to spend every waking moment with Ross rather than her also made her feel a little sad.
She knew that was silly, wrong even, but she couldn’t help the feeling. Even though she knew she’d done a good job raising Justice, she hadn’t been enough. Not really.
Yes, part of the fascination was new-toy syndrome, but part of it was that thus far Ross had taken his role in Justice’s life seriously, dedicating himself one hundred percent to the little boy when he wasn’t at work. No wonder Justice was enthralled. Who wouldn’t be at having all
Ross’s attention focused on them?
“Daddy—” the word felt so foreign on her lips, for so many reasons “—probably has other things to do.”
“No, I don’t,” Ross quickly corrected her, eyeing her curiously and probably seeing a lot more than she wished. “My whole day is clear to spend with my family.”
“We’re not your family,” she said automatically, without thinking. The immediate darkening of his expression told her that she’d made a mistake.
“Yes.” His voice was firm, direct, offering no room for argument. “You are. Justice is my flesh and blood. My son, my family.”
She clamped her mouth closed, uncertain what more to say yet wanting to say a lot, but really what could she say? He was right. Justice was as much his as he was hers and for her son’s sake she foresaw a lot of tongue-biting in her future to prevent him from hearing things best left unheard by little ears.
CHAPTER NINE
WHISTLING A TUNE from a cartoon he’d watched one evening with Justice, Ross threaded line through an eye of the fishing pole he’d bought less than an hour before. He’d also bought a tackle box, lures, and a few other items he’d thought they might need to go along with the simple kiddy poles Justice and Brielle already owned and used.
Someday soon he’d buy his son a real pole and tackle, but for now the black superhero one with its emblem on the float would do. After all, the kid was only four.
“You look as if you know what you’re doing, but do you actually know how to fish?” Brielle asked from where she was perched on a rock, watching him rather than baiting her hook. Then again, she’d already informed him that they usually used plastic bait rather than live crickets or earthworms.
What was the fun in that for a little boy?
He’d bought both, but after a few minutes of watching the crickets and letting the earthworms crawl around in his palm, Justice had lost interest. Right now he was stooped over just out of earshot, more interested in searching through the rocks, looking for dinosaur fossils, than in fishing. Apparently dinosaurs were starting to give Justice’s favorite superhero a run for his billions.
“I grew up just a few hours away, Brielle. Of course I know how to fish. My dad and I went fishing several times a month during school breaks. Those times are some of my favorite memories of my childhood. The last time he and my mom came up to Boston we chartered a boat and went out for a day of fishing.” He smiled at the memory. “It was a good day.”
A slight frown marred her forehead. “How come I never knew that about you?”
Not sure how to answer her question, he shrugged. “You never asked. When I was with you I had other things on my mind besides fishing.”
When he and Brielle had been together, she’d occupied way too many of his thoughts. Ultimately, when their relationship had become stressed, he’d resented the distraction. Obviously, out of sight was not out of mind when it had come to Brielle Winton, though. Far far from it. He’d never forgotten her, never gotten over her. Now that he knew she was the mother of his child he accepted that she was part of his life. For ever. Even with how strained their relationship currently was, he couldn’t say he resented her effect on him. Not this time. He was older, wiser, had learned a lot of life lessons.
“We never went fishing,” she pointed out, almost sounding accusatory, and he grinned at the near pouty expression on her pretty face.
“I was in medical school and pouring my heart and soul into becoming the best doctor I could be,” he reminded her. “What little free time I had to spend with you, well, I didn’t want to spend that time fishing.”
She blushed bright red and Ross bit back a smile. If she recalled, she wouldn’t have wanted to spend their limited free time fishing either, unless it had been fishing in the dark for each other.
“No, I guess we didn’t have a lot of spare time for things like fishing...” Her voice trailed off, then she lifted needy eyes to him. “We did have a lot of good times, didn’t we, Ross? I didn’t imagine that, did I?”
He tied the line around the hook, knotted it, then secured it to the pole by looping the tip around an eye. He stood the pole next to him, propping it against the tackle box and holding it loosely in his grip just to have something to do with his hand.
“We had a lot of good times together.” He looked at her, at the nostalgic expression on her face, and he mentally kicked himself yet again. How could he have tossed away their relationship without fighting for her? Without trying to correct the things that had gone wrong? He knew the answers, of course, but he couldn’t help but think that if he had his life to live over from that point, he wouldn’t have left Brielle behind. He’d have convinced her to go with him, have put effort into repairing their relationship. And that was even without the knowledge that she’d been pregnant. “You know we did.”
Memories of chasing her around their apartment, both of them laughing so hard they could barely breathe, of catching her and tickling her while she squirmed, trying to escape, of his touches soon going from playful torture to sexually charged. Of her lips going from teasing to moaning with pleasure. Of her squirming morphing into needy gyrations as his body took control of hers.
But not just the sex. Memories of holding her while she’d cried after her first code where the patient had died, letting her fall asleep in his arms, and lying there breathing her in, feeling as if she had been right where she’d belonged, feeling as if he’d been right where he’d belonged.
With Brielle.
That same feeling hit him, making him grip the fishing pole tighter. For the first time in five years he was where he belonged. With Brielle.
“Great times,” Ross rasped, then cleared his throat, hoping to ease the tightness clamping down on his vocal cords. “We were great. The best.”
His gaze met Brielle’s and the tightness took hold of his whole body. He’d often heard the expression “tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.” This was one of those moments. A moment so intense that emotions were almost palpable around them. Sexual tension. Physical tension. Emotional tension. Mental tension. Tensions he couldn’t label pulsed between them.
The past. The present. The future.
All pulsated alive and real between them.
Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. Her lips parted.
He fought kissing her. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to chase her around until they collapsed together in laughter and kisses. And more. He wanted so much more with this woman.
If Justice wasn’t a few yards away, he would kiss her.
He missed kissing her. Missed the feel of her plump lips pressed to his, the feel of her warm breath against his mouth, the taste of her sweetness.
They had been great together, the best.
No other woman even compared to the one sitting a few feet from him, staring at him with a hundred emotions shining in her eyes, not the least of which was desire matching his own.
And anger that was just as strong as his. She roller-coastered back and forth between the positive and negative between them, just as he had for the past two weeks.
He’d come to Bean’s Creek for her, to rekindle any sparks that remained between them. The reality was that wildfire burned any time they were near each other. Then he’d discovered she’d had his child.
A child she’d kept from him and would have continued to keep from him had he not come looking for her.
He could so easily hate her for depriving him of his son. Just as she could so easily hate him for not being there for her during her pregnancy, during her delivery, during all the days, weeks, months, and years that had followed while she’d cared for their son alone.
“They were great times.” Brielle finally spoke from her perch on the small boulder. She pulled her knees up close to her body, wrapped her arms around her bare legs. �
��Then you left so perhaps they weren’t so great after all or you would have stayed.”
He was the one who was supposed to be angry, not her. He was the one who had been cheated out of five years of his precious son’s life. She had done that to him.
So why did her softly spoken words gut him? Make him want to beg for forgiveness for leaving her when she’d needed him? For letting her give birth to their son alone when he should have been at her side? Ever since they’d shared the delivery earlier that week, he’d been haunted by the image of her bringing their son into the world alone. Yes, he blamed her, but he also blamed himself. A lot.
He should have been there, should have helped ease her financial burden, her physical and emotional load as she’d struggled with the trauma of a premature baby who had required weeks of hospital care. How had she managed the medical bills? Had Vann lightened her load? Not that she seemed to mind raising their child by herself, otherwise she would have asked for child support.
If only she had.
He’d been such a fool to leave her, but perhaps if he’d stayed his resentment would have festered. He’d like to think not, but he’d been immature in some ways, had had a lot of growing up to do. He wasn’t the same man who’d left her. Not by a long stretch.
He glanced at where she hugged her legs. From his position he had a perfect view up her shorts leg to see the hint of the curvature of her creamy thigh. Nothing more, just a glimpse up her shorts, a cheap thrill really, but that was all it took to make him want to push her back on that rock and rediscover her body, to search out and cherish the changes carrying their son had added to it, knowing that those changes were honored badges of her motherhood.
Noticing his gaze, she glanced down, tugged on her shorts. “Sorry.”
“Brielle, I...” He paused, trying to figure out what it was he wanted to say to this complex woman who held so much power over him. Did she even realize? “I wasn’t telling the truth last week when I said I could sleep in the same bed with you without wanting to touch you. This week has been strained with us in the same house, but, no matter how upset or angry I am with you, I can’t be within ten feet of you without wanting to touch you.”
