Whiskey Lullabye (Southern Heartbeats, Vol. 2)

by Jennifer Rebecca

  “We need to talk,” he says softly. The fight fled his body at my capitulation. “Something’s happened.”

  “Okay,” I say back. Knowing it is anything but. And also knowing that I will do anything in my power to make everything okay for Holt. I would sell my soul to take that look from his beautiful face. “Tell me,” I say softly.

  He sits on the ottoman in front of me, forcing me to drop my feet down. He leans forward and I follow his movements.

  “I’ve learned there’s no other way to say it, but to just say it,” he says as he grabs my hand.

  “Than just say it,” I whisper.

  “I would save you from this if I could, Liz, you have to know that,” he says, his eyes locked on mine.

  “Just say it,” I whisper. Imploring him to rip the band-aid off.

  “Hannah’s gone, honey,” he says just as softly. There goes our hope for mercy.

  “What?” I ask, truly wondering where she could have gone off to.

  “She was murdered, baby,” he says and I gasp. Holt squeezes my hand tighter so I don’t lose focus. “Here’s the hard part.”

  “I can’t imagine there is a harder part right now, Holt,” I say softly. His lips twitch at the bite in my words and I know that he knows I am not lost in the bottle anymore, but coming back into myself.

  “I heard from the agencies in Connecticut and also her attorney’s office this week. I have ironed out most of the details, but in a week, the social workers are bringing Hannah’s children here. You and I are to take over guardianship until a time has past where we can apply for adoption with the overseeing agencies in both states as Hannah did not have any living relatives.”

  “Children?” I ask. Shocked. “Hannah doesn’t have any children,” I tell him.

  “She did, baby,” he says softly. I shake my head no, but he squeezes my hand again. “She was pregnant with twins when she was here last. Boys,” he says. And my breath catches in my throat again.

  “Twins?” I ask knowing he can hear the wonder in my voice. And at the same time the sadness knowing exactly why Hannah didn’t feel she could share this news with me as I had just lost my own children with their father. “Boys?” I ask. I know nothing about boys.

  “Yeah, honey. Two boys, Colton and Ford,” he smiles at me.

  “I don’t know anything about boys,” I whisper softly.

  “Lucky for us, I do,” Holt’s smile brightens. “And what I don’t know, we’ll figure out together.”

  “Okay,” I say knowing he’s right. We’ll figure it out together.

  “But the drinking is over.”

  “It already was,” I tell him and his shoulders soften at the loss of this burden.

  “And the depression…”

  “I’m not great, but I’m getting there,” I tell him.

  “We’re doing this?” he asks me.

  “We’re doing this,” I smile. “Colton and Ford,” I muse.

  “Yeah, baby,” he says softly.

  And I know. I know with all my heart, my soul, my everything, that these boys are why I am not with my husband, my daughters. This path that has been so littered with sadness and heartache, I am meant to be here on this earth for them. I wish Sam, Hannah, Harper and Sarah were all here, and I will mourn them all my life. But Colton and Ford are now my everything. My mercy granted.

  CHAPTER 26

  Holt

  I have been taken over. Not just taken over...but invaded. In the best possible way. I couldn’t believe it if I had not seen it with my own eyes. In the last three days my bachelor pad house of bare bones and necessities for one eternal bachelor, read me, and one asshole of a cat, see Diablo.

  My mom and Liz have been very busy. There are now carseats in my truck and Liz’s SUV, which we upgraded her car from after we realized a massive twin stroller wouldn’t fit in her trunk. She used some of Sam’s SGLI and bought a volvo XC90. It’s got all wheel drive, three rows of seating. My family might only be safer if riding in an M1A1--don’t worry--I checked, they’re not available to the public.

  Mom and Liz have deposited baby swings and bouncers around the house. Diablo thinks the bouncers are fancy cat beds. And the nursery, don’t even get me started. They found these huge cribs, matching dressers and a giant comfy rocking chair, but my favorite part, the day bed against the far wall for tough nights with the babies so we can be close to them. I know I will just want to hangout in here and watch them. I can’t wait to watch these boys do anything, smile, laugh, crawl, run, hunt, fish, play ball--of any kind. I can’t wait to watch them live their lives.

  We have more baby monitors than the White House has surveillance. I laughed, but Liz and mom swore up and down we’d need to be able to hear them breathe while I was working out or Liz was in my home office.

  Speaking of my home office, Liz now works there more than I do since she runs her business from home. I have not one complaint. I love seeing her there when I come home from work. She’s got all that honey colored hair piled up in a mess on top of her head with more pencils than I even knew I owned sticking out of it. And her glasses. She has these massive, blue framed librarian glasses that make my cock harder than a patrol baton. Liz is where she was meant to be. But I can’t help thinking of the broken road that put her here. My dad always says, everything happens for a reason, even if what happens sucks.

  So, here I am, sitting at my desk in the station, with a desk full of work and open cases, mooning at pictures of the boys that the social worker e-mailed me and fantasizing over my family in my house. It does something to a man, to know that he has something so precious entrusted to his care and protection. And make no mistake, I will protect them.

  A knock sounds at my door. “Enter,” I shout, before SCUBA makes his way into my office. “What’s on your mind, brother?” I ask.

  “I can’t find a place to live and the hotel told me this morning that coming up this weekend, they’re booked so I have to find a new place to live,” he sighs. “Can I crash with you?” Shit. Just when I think that I have all of my ducks in a row, one of the mother fuckers goes wandering off.

  “Normally, I would say ‘yes’ but with all of the adoption stuff, Liz in my house, and the boys showing up this weekend, I don’t have the room,” I tell him honestly.

  “So it’s ‘Liz’ is it?” he asks with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Yeah, it’s Liz, asshole, you got anything to say about it?” I challenge.

  I won’t have anyone making her feel bad about about how our relationship happened, and make no mistake, there is a serious relationship in the works—I just haven’t told Liz yet. Not from our friends or family, not from someone who is a brother to me and was a best friend to my own brother even if he no longer walks this earth.

  “I’m really happy for you, brother,” he says softly. “You deserve it. You both do,” he says and there’s something there that passes through his eyes. If you blink, you would have missed it. Whatever it is was there and gone before I can name it.

  “I appreciate that,” I say softly. “And I may have a solution to your problem,” I say, an idea forming in my head. I’m not sure yet if it’s a good one or a bad one, but it’s there nonetheless. What the hell, right?

  “Really?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, hoping the next words out of my mouth don’t get me shot. I really hate getting shot. It stings like a mother fucker. “Katy lives in Will’s house on the family land. I bet she’d take you in until you land on your feet.”

  “I don’t know about that,” he gives me the side eye. I’m not sure what he’s worried about. Katydid is harmless.

  “You’ll be fine. Katy is sweet as can be.”

  “If you’re sure…” he trails off.

  “One hundred percent,” I lie. White lies don’t count, right? I really hope I don’t get shot over this.

  ***

  I spend the rest of my day drinking coffee and powering over reports on this illegal hunter that no one seems to
be able to find. This asshole is driving me absolutely nuts. I was sure that he was some drunk just shooting guns out in the woods, but my guys would have found a drunk by now...I hope.

  I look at my watch and it’s six o’clock. I power down my computer and stack all of my files and notes in a clean pile to take home. I grab my sidearm from my desk drawer and head out of my office, locking it up behind me.

  When I open the front door of my house, I realize how much Liz has made this a home. A building where I once just lived, survived, is now a home full of light—and maybe love—and dinner. I cannot remember the last time I came home to a meal I didn’t have to cook myself or worse, from a sack.

  “Oh, hey,” she smiles sweetly from the doorway to the kitchen. “I made dinner, I hope that’s okay,” she says shyly.

  “Yeah,” I say and when I realize she needs more, I give it to her. “It’s more than okay.”

  “Okay,” she smiles sweetly.

  “How was your day?” I ask.

  “It was good. Really good, actually. I got caught up with all of my clients so I can focus on the boys when they get here,” she tells me.

  “That’s good?”

  “How was your day?” she asks awkwardly. Is she really asking? I don’t want to dump it all on her, but at the same time, It would be nice to have someone to share with.

  “It was okay, I guess. I have a case that’s giving me a hard time, but it’ll be okay,” I tell her honestly, sort of, as I follow her into the kitchen.

  “How was it really?” She asks, pausing, before shoring up her courage. “I’m not made of glass, Holt. I can take it. I want you to be able to tell me things,” she says staring at the dish towel in her hands.

  “Okay,” I tell her taking a deep breath and then pulling a beer out of the fridge. “I have this case, it’s driving me nuts,” I say as I pop the cap and tip the bottle back.

  “How so?” she asks, sounding more confident.

  “There’s this hunter, at first, we all thought he was just a drunk out in the woods, shooting cans or tree branches or whatever, but we can’t find him,” I say.

  “I think a careless drunk would be...well, careless,” she shares as she pulls pans from the oven. “Take a seat,” she tells me and I head to the kitchen table which is set with plates and silverware. Candles are lit in the center of the old oak table. Liz has a beautiful light blue cloth on it.

  “Are we having company?” I ask, noticing the third place setting. Liz just laughs and I wonder why until my spoiled ass cat, Diablo, jumps up in the third seat like he owns the place.

  “Meow,” he cries.

  “It turns out, the cat likes to eat with me at the table,” she shrugs and laughs. “And it turns out, I like his company,” she says placing dishes on the table.

  “Meow,”

  “I hope you like chicken,” she says softly.

  “I do—”

  “Meow,” she laughs again.

  “I know you do,” she says to the cat, making him a plate of chicken and carrots. And I can’t help but smile.

  For the first time in a long time, Liz looks more like herself, and she’s doing it feeding my cat on the dishes my mom bought me as a housewarming present at my kitchen table. For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself too.

  “So tell me more about this hunter,” she says as she fixes me a plate. And I do. I tell Liz all about it--the case, my worries, my frustrations--and she takes it all.

  After dinner Liz and I sat on the sofa and watched some ridiculous reality show about spoiled housewives on the east coast. I had a beer in my hand and Liz had a glass of wine in hers. She never finished it, but she laughed and smiled. She relaxed the whole time. She was just Liz, my Liz.

  When it was late and she was asleep with her head on my shoulder and her arms wrapped around my waist, I woke her softly.

  “Liz, honey,” I whisper to her. “It’s time to go to bed, baby.” I say softly as her eyes flutter open.

  She smiles at me sweetly and I know that the spell isn’t broken yet, she’s still my Liz. So, I walk upstairs to my room with her hand in mine, never once stopping to see if she wanted to sleep in the other room.

  I want my Liz with me, in my arms, while we sleep. I want her for as long as she’ll let me have her, all of her. Because I’m in love with her. I always have been and I never stopped. Not once.

  Liz isn’t ready for the words I want to give her, so I tell her softly, gently, with my hands, with my mouth, and with my cock as I strip us both down and love her the only way she’ll let me. For now.

  Afterwards, when our breathing has slowed and she snuggled deep asleep in my arms with a smile on her face, I let myself drift off to sleep, not once thinking that I forgot to call Katy and tell her that I was moving SCUBA into her house.

  CHAPTER 27

  Aliza

  I hear Holt’s annoying alarm going off upstairs. How anyone can want to wake up to revelee at a ninety decibel rating is beyond my level of comprehension. I like a good Taylor Swift or Little Big Town song to get me going. I like to start my day off right with a little dancing and a whole lot of coffee.

  Speaking of coffee, I’m on my third cup. I have been sitting on one of the bar stools in Holt’s kitchen watching the sun rise and wondering how I got here. Well, not here--the house--literally. I know I got here by car. I meant my life. I have been given so much. I was so angry for having everything taken away from me. My daughters, my husband, my life really. Only to be given it all back in a different way. I’m about to be the guardian to twin boys, babies, Hannah’s babies. And for some miracle, some payment for so much good karma I didn’t even know that I had, I have been given the love of a good man. A great man. Again.

  I hear his gigantic feet stomp down the stairs like a herd of thundering elephants. But instead of heading to the kitchen where I have been thanking every lucky star in the sky before they glittered away with the dawn of a new day, he thunders in the opposite direction to the front door. I smirk, wondering what the hell has gotten into him this morning.

  The elephants pick up their pace and this time make a beeline for me. He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants, no shirt because I’m wearing it, and his dark hair is an adorable mess like a psycho. Holt turns the corner and jogs through the open passway into the kitchen, skidding to a halt right in front of me. It’s then that I see the worry etched across his face. Holt thought I left him while he was sleeping. Again. That worry, that pain. I did that to him over and over again and the sting of that cuts right through me, stealing the breath from my lungs.

  “Holt,” I say.

  He blinks wildly, taking in my appearance. I’m wearing one of his gigantic man t-shirts and a pair of his boot socks. My feet are freezing and I woke up naked. Naked because I had the love of a great man given back to me last night after I made my world famous man catching chicken dinner.

  I have my knees drawn up to my chest the the shirt pulled over them. In my hands, I hold my steaming mug of cup number three.

  Holt closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them, those dark hazels burn bright. For me. He snatches the mug out of my hands and shoots back the hot liquid before slamming the mug down on the counter.

  “Holt..” is all I can get out before his hot mouth crashes down on mine. My hands now empty, clutch at his bare shoulders.

  His hands push up the t-shirt from around me and he pushes my legs open to stand between them as he devours my mouth. His hands keep pushing up and up until he has to break our mouths apart to pull his shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor.

  His eyes glitter as he takes in my naked body, well, naked plus his thick socks. His mouth touches down on mine again, but it’s different. It’s still needy and demanding, but this one owns me. Holt is claiming me without words. We’re not ready to share them, but I think we both know that they are there.

  I lean back and look into his eyes, my palms skating over his hard muscles. Holt works out every day and it
shows. He smirks at my open appreciation of his body.

  “Glad to see you like it, babe.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “I think you might of meant to keep those thoughts about my body and how much I work out inside your head,” he smiles. “But I like your appreciation,” he says as he weighs my breast in his palm. I hiss when his thumb skates over my nipple. “But no more talking now,” he says before his mouth crashes down on mine and I cry out when he pinches my nipple.

  I’m on fire. Always am with him. I skate my hands down his body and push his sweatpants to the floor, finding him hard and ready. I wrap my hand around his cock and squeeze, earning me a low growl from his sexy throat.

  Holt trails kisses from the corner of my mouth to my cheek. The corner of my jaw. Behind my ear. Down. Down. Down my neck where he buries his face in between my neck and shoulder and groans as I slide my hand up and down his cock. He swells in my hand, but backs away before things can get really good, sliding free from my grasp.

  I tip my head to the side, silently asking him what’s up, when Holt drops to his knees before me, stealing the breath from my lungs. He runs his nose up the inside of my thigh and kisses me sweetly at my center.

  “So pretty,” he says, almost to himself, before he licks at my center. My fingers grip the battered barstool, hoping against all hope that I don’t fall off. But in my heart, I know that if I fall, Holt will catch me.

  I wiggle and squirm on my seat. My stolen socks not letting me get a purchase as I desperately race towards the cliff with Holt’s mouth and fingers and his sexy little growls herding, pushing me towards the drop off. I fist my hands in his hair and pull.

  “Please,” I whimper. My legs are wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to me. To my neediness. He sucks my clit into his mouth. Hard. And I drop my head back on my shoulders and cry out.

  “Now you’re ready,” he says as he unwinds my legs from around his neck and stands, towering over me.

  I barely have a chance to grab onto Holt’s shoulders as he pushes my thighs wider, gripping them tight, almost bruising, in his strong hands, before he thrusts home. Stilling inside me, he buries his face in that spot he loves so much between my neck and my shoulder and inhales deeply.