Lock You Down

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "Our baby is all grown up," Krissy declared, unable to hold in her excitement.

  And her comment got the very serious Calvin's head to lift. First to Krissy, then over toward where Krissy's gaze was.

  "Fuck," his breath hissed out of him, his lips parted ever-so-slightly as his eyes roamed over the girl he'd absolutely been into before she'd gone off to college.

  There was something about the smile that pulled at Marley's lips--slow, almost a little sultry, that made my gaze slip over to Krissy, the question on my face.

  "Oh, they totally fucked before she left," she declared quietly. And, well, sex was Krissy's language. She was fluent. If she picked up on that, then I had every confidence she was right.

  "You're back," Calvin said, voice a little guarded for reasons we didn't understand.

  "Did you think you could avoid me forever, you bastard?" she asked, smile so cold I felt a shiver move through me.

  "Uh-oh," Krissy murmured, lips thinning out as she grimaced.

  Calvin looked almost stricken for a moment before he wiped any genuine expression at all from his face, replacing it with the cocky indifference of his youth, something I hadn't seen in years.

  "Who'd have thought you'd be so fucking hung up on me?" he asked, getting to his feet with a cat-like grace, stalking over toward her, getting so close that there was hardly any air between them. But Marley was still too stubborn to back down first. "You dress up like this for me?" he asked, smile going wicked as his hand moved out, fingers tracing the short hem of her skirt on her thigh.

  "You'd like that," Marley said, pinning him with her signature intense gaze. "I hate to be the one to inform you of this, Calvin, but the world doesn't revolve around you. And mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm here because Reagan invited me."

  "Yeah," he said, lips tipping up at one side. "Sure, sweetheart," he agreed, moving past her, but plowing into her a bit to do so, brushing his chest across hers, forcing her back a step so he could disappear down the stairs.

  "Giiiiirl," Krissy said, hand pressed to her heart. "You fucked the bad boy!" she said, mouth gaping.

  "It was a moment of pure insanity. Five years ago. Clearly, a regrettable decision," she added, but her gaze moved over toward the door where Calvin had disappeared into.

  "Someone needs to call Mark," Krissy told me. "I think we have something to bet on again."

  Luckily, I had him on my speed dial.

  Nixon - 8 years

  It had been a long year.

  It didn't matter how stable your relationship was, how pristine your finances, how lovely your home. The adoption process was the same for everyone. Namely, invasive.

  We'd been prepared for it.

  We'd done our research.

  But it was hard to imagine how under a microscope you felt when someone showed up at your door, demanded to see your financial documents, questioned you about parenting, about your own upbringing, about your health.

  I'd been grilled about my absent father, about my mother's early death, about my relationships with my siblings. Reagan had needed to explain about her sister's suicide, her own court battle against a convicted rapist.

  Reagan had dragged me to her therapist, and, honestly, some time on that couch with her was likely the only way we'd finally made it through the home study process.

  "I want them all," Reagan declared, sitting in our kitchen in the wee hours before Jackson woke up. Though he had inherited the early riser gene from his mother. We never had long in the mornings before he stirred, no matter how early we got up.

  She was sitting there swiping up and down the website with adoptable kids.

  We'd considered both options. Private, which would give us another baby, or foster-to-adopt which would give a home to a kid already waiting in the system for a forever family.

  In the end, we'd gone with the latter, knowing there would always be someone out there to take the babies. Besides, Jackson would like someone closer to his age to play with.

  "We can always adopt more in the future," I reminded her, even though I had gone through the listings at least once a day since we had started the process nearly a year before.

  "I mean, look at his smile," Reagan said, turning the iPad toward me. "And this one's too. Oh, and hers. How are you supposed to pick?"

  That was a good question.

  They all deserved homes, stability, love.

  It was hard to look at a kid who just wanted a family and think, "Nah."

  But we couldn't have them all.

  "What one do you keep coming back to?" I asked, knowing there had to be one.

  It took a long moment, but her breath sighed out of her. "Him," she said, turning the iPad toward me again. Quen looked to be about five or six with dark skin, black hair, and the warmest smile I think I'd ever seen on a kid his age.

  "Okay. Him," I agreed, nodding.

  "You didn't even read his blurb."

  "No," I agreed. "But you did. Probably twenty times," I added, brow raising, daring her to tell me I was wrong.

  "True," she agreed, her smile going soft as her eyes got a little glassy. "Quen."

  "Quen," I agreed.

  A couple months later, we welcomed him into the house.

  "I dunno, babe," I said, smiling as Mal climbed into the kid's lap almost immediately. "It seems like the only person in this house that Mal doesn't like is you..."

  "You be quiet, or I am going to drag Goat Devil out of the attic and hang him over the bed," she warned, eyes dancing.

  She would, too.

  So I shut right the hell up.

  Reagan - 11 years

  "Who is it?" Nixon asked when my phone rang, seeing my brows immediately knitting closer together as I looked at the name on the screen.

  We were taking the kids to the park, Jackson and Quen currently standing over by the mammoth farm pigs, their t-shirts pulled up to cover their noses to cut the rancid smell of the slop they were laying in.

  "It's Andrea," I said, shaking my head, confused.

  "Andrea, Andrea? Our caseworker?" he asked.

  We hadn't heard from her since Quen's adoption had been finalized. Well over a year ago.

  "Yeah."

  "Answer it," he demanded, making my finger swipe the screen, pulling my phone up to my ear.

  "Hey Andrea," I started, my voice sounding a little choked. "What's up?"

  "Reagan, how are you?"

  "We're good. At the park with the boys. They are both disgusted and fascinated by the pigs here. Boys," I added, shaking my head even though she couldn't see me.

  "Does Nixon happen to be with you?" she asked, and my belly tightened. Why, I didn't know. It wasn't like how it was between Quen coming to stay with us and the court date. She didn't have any sway over our family anymore. Quen was ours.

  "Ah, um, yeah, he's right here," I said, sending Nixon a head shake when he held up a questioning hand.

  "Can you put me on speaker?" she asked.

  Nervous, I missed the button twice before I finally accomplished the task. "Okay, you have us both."

  "Hey Nixon," Andrea greeted as my belly twisted tighter.

  "Hey, Andrea. What are you calling us about?" he asked. And, well, bless my husband's bluntness. He could always be counted on to cut through the useless bullshit.

  "Well, I have something I want to run by you," she started.

  "We're listening," Nixon agreed, urging her on.

  "Well, we have both sad, and good news."

  "Oh?" I asked, my throat feeling tight.

  "About a year ago, Quen's mom had a second child. A girl. Everything seemed fine this time around. We thought she would get to stay with her birth family. But the situation has changed," she said, being diplomatic, not giving too much away. "And we have Quen's little sister. She's... she's not going to be able to go back to her mom. And you know we always like to try to keep biological siblings together. I know they have never met. Quen doesn't even know she exists. But it is blood. And, well,
I was just wondering if you two would have any interest in taking her in? I know the last time we spoke that you said you would be open to adopting again once Quen settled in."

  We were.

  We'd always talked about more.

  It just was always a background thought, wedged behind our current kids, the house, the extended family, work.

  We hadn't gotten around to discussing it in depth recently.

  But we were both still open to it.

  I loved the dynamic he'd had with his brothers and sister.

  I loved the one I had growing up with my siblings.

  We wanted a big family.

  "We are open to adopting again," Nixon answered for me while my mind swirled.

  "Would you be interested in setting up a meeting?"

  "Absolutely. I mean, we need to talk to Quen about it all first," I said, looking over at our boy. He still had the warmest smile I'd ever seen. He also happened to have the biggest heart. If he knew he had a baby sister, he would want her to live with us. He wouldn't even hesitate.

  "Of course. Yes, absolutely. You two can get back to me once you've given the situation some thought."

  "We will," I assured her. "We absolutely will. Soon."

  "Great. That's fantastic. I really hoped you would be interested. Well, I will let you get back to your outing. I am looking forward to hearing back from you."

  "Hey, Andrea?" Nixon asked before she could hang up.

  "Yeah?"

  "What's her name?" he asked, always able to think more clearly in an exciting situation than I could. And, duh, how could we talk to Quen about his baby sister if we didn't even know her name?

  "Sammy."

  I was pretty sure the whole world tilted in that moment.

  Sammy.

  Really, what were the odds?

  Nixon ended the call because my mind was still too all over the place to think straight.

  "Well," he said, taking a deep breath. "That sounds a fuckuva lot like fate to me," he said, arm snagging me around my lower back, pulling me in at his side.

  "Sammy," I repeated.

  "Sammy," he agreed, pressing a kiss to my temple.

  And just like that, we had a daughter.

  Reagan - 11 years

  I woke up with one little foot pressed into my cheek, a little head on my lap, and a little hand jabbed into my throat.

  My head rested on Nixon's shoulder.

  We'd all climbed into bed to watch a movie late the night before, all falling asleep before the credits rolled.

  The sun was breaking through the windows.

  Mal was purring on the other side of Nixon.

  I could smell the coffee machine brewing.

  My gaze moved around my three children, faces soft and sweet in sleep, then toward my husband, the man who made this whole life possible.

  Beautiful.

  Perfect.

  Complete.

  It was right then that I found out that my therapist all those years ago was right.

  Healing happened slowly, then all at once.

  Until, one morning, you woke up and your loss wasn't your first thought anymore. Or your second. Or third. Or fourth.

  It was still there.

  It would always be there.

  But you healed.

  You moved forward.

  You found new places to pour all that love you had leftover.

  "Want me to get you a cup?" Nixon asked, voice gruff from sleep, somehow untangling himself from the kids without waking any of them up.

  "Those are the most romantic words you've ever said to me," I told him, feeling my lips curve up.

  "I'm not making any fancy crap," he forewarned me, as he always did.

  There was the surly man I fell in love with all those years ago.

  Nixon came back a few moments later, helping me move little bodies toward the end of the bed, so we could enjoy our coffee without being punched or kicked in delicate places.

  He pulled me close to his side, smelling better than my coffee, so I took a breath, breathed him in, before taking a sip.

  "What's on your schedule today?" he asked.

  "Jackson and Quen have karate. And then I have to grocery shop. Meet Krissy for lunch. Oh, and I have to run to Costco to get more peaches," I told him.

  "Sh," he said, making my gaze turn to find him smirking over at me. "Don't dirty-talk me in front of the children," he demanded, making me throw my head back and laugh.

  Life had changed a lot of things.

  But some things never changed.

  My appetite for peaches.

  And Nixon's appetite for me.

  XX

  DON'T FORGET!

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking time out of your life to read this book. If you loved this book, I would really appreciate it if you could hop onto Goodreads or Amazon and tell me your favorite parts. You can also spread the word by recommending the book to friends or sending digital copies that can be received via kindle or kindle app on any device.

  ALSO BY JESSICA GADZIALA

  If you liked this book, check out these other series and titles in the NAVESINK BANK UNIVERSE:

  The Henchmen MC

  Reign

  Cash

  Wolf

  Repo

  Duke

  Renny

  Lazarus

  Pagan

  Cyrus

  Edison

  Reeve

  Sugar

  The Fall of V

  Adler

  Roderick

  Virgin

  Roan

  Camden

  The Savages

  Monster

  Killer

  Savior

  Mallick Brothers

  For A Good Time, Call

  Shane

  Ryan

  Mark

  Eli

  Charlie & Helen: Back to the Beginning

  Investigators

  367 Days

  14 Weeks

  4 Months

  Dark

  Dark Mysteries

  Dark Secrets

  Dark Horse

  Professionals

  The Fixer

  The Ghost

  The Messenger

  The General

  The Babysitter

  The Middle Man

  Rivers Brothers

  Lift You Up

  STANDALONES WITHIN NAVESINK BANK:

  Vigilante

  Grudge Match

  NAVESINK BANK LEGACY SERIES:

  The Rise of Ferryn

  OTHER SERIES AND STANDALONES:

  Stars Landing

  What The Heart Needs

  What The Heart Wants

  What The Heart Finds

  What The Heart Knows

  The Stars Landing Deviant

  What The Heart Learns

  Surrogate

  The Sex Surrogate

  Dr. Chase Hudson

  The Green Series

  Into the Green

  Escape from the Green

  DEBT

  Dissent

  Stuffed: A Thanksgiving Romance

  Unwrapped

  Peace, Love, & Macarons

  A Navesink Bank Christmas

  Don't Come

  Fix It Up

  N.Y.E.

  faire l'amour

  Revenge

  There Better Be Pie

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jessica Gadziala is a full-time writer, parrot enthusiast, and coffee drinker from New Jersey. She enjoys short rides to the book store, sad songs, and cold weather.

  She is very active on Goodreads, Facebook, as well as her personal groups on those sites. Join in. She's friendly.

  STALK HER!

  Connect with Jessica:

  Facebook

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  Gadziala, Jessica, Lock You Down