by Frankie Love
"Because you care about her," I say. "Because she cares more about making you proud than she does her own happiness. You understand how fucked up that is?"
"You throw around words like that," Gavin says. "Sure as hell sounds like you're looking for a fight."
"I'm not," I say. "I'm not. I want to talk to you. Not just about Marley."
"What else?" Dylan asks. "What business do you have in Riverside if it's not about our sister?"
"I heard you're looking for an investor," I tell them honestly. "For a distillery."
The three brothers share a hard look.
"What the hell do you know about that?" Jett asks me.
"I know from Jameson out on Whiskey Mountain that you're looking for some capital. That you already have some money saved, but you need some more in order to make this work."
"You know Jameson?" Jett asks.
I nod. "Yeah, I do. I've known his wife for a long time, actually."
Gavin nods. "Yeah. Heard she came up from California too. Whole bunch of you. You think you can come up here and fuck up what we have with your shady business?"
"Look, I have no shady business going on. I'm done with all that shit. I've told your sister a hundred times, and I'm telling you now. I've turned a corner. I've made things right. But I do have money, a hell of a lot of it, clean money too – from some side hustles that worked out well. And I want to invest in your business if you'll let me."
Jett smirks. "You come here thinking you can buy our sister's love?"
"Well, I have a million dollars to invest in a distillery, so it's yours if you want it. Of course, I wish you would approve of me and Marley being together. But I'm going to be with her whether you like it or not. And whether or not money is on the table."
"Is that so?" Gavin asks. "And why are you so confident?"
"Because she's having my baby,” I say to them.
That knocks the air right out of them. And I momentarily hate myself for telling them the truth. But they need to know it. They need to know that Marley is so scared of disappointing them that she's willing to forfeit her own happiness. They have a hold on her that's damn tight. Too tight. And it's time for them to loosen the reins. Not because I have to have her in my life, but because she deserves to have a life of her own. To see her own dreams to come true.
"You got our sister pregnant?" Gavin asks, seething.
"Yeah,” I admit. "I did. And I love that baby. The same way you love your sister. So stop talking the talk and start walking the walk. Show up for her the way she needs you to. Because I'm not going anywhere. So take my money if you want it or don't. But treat Marley the way she deserves."
"You love her?" Dylan asks. "You really love her?"
I nod. "With all my heart."
"Just because she's having your baby,” Gavin says, doubt in his voice.
"No,” I push back. "Not because of that. I told her I loved her before I knew that. But a baby changes things. I'm not going to fight her, pressure her into loving me. That's something she can decide on her own time. But I am going to be a part of this baby's life and that means the four of us have to make this work somehow."
Her brothers look at me and I watch the anger leave their bodies, their shoulders fall, and their jaws unclench. They heard me and I didn't even raise a fist. First time in my fucking life that’s happened.
But before we can say any more, Dylan gets a call. “It’s Weathermore, the guy who has the charter boat.” He answers it, and when the man on the other end relays something, Dylan’s face goes white, stunned. It looks like he’s seen a ghost.
“What is it?” Jett asks his younger brother.
“It's Marley,” Dylan cries. "There's been an incident."
Maker
Dylan ends his call with Weathermore after we get more details. Father John came for Marley. Took her.
“I’m going to speak with Sheriff Price next door,” he says and we all agree to come with.
Before we can go anywhere, though, my phone rings. I answer it, putting it on speakerphone as a cryptic voice comes through. It’s Father John, all right.
"I've got her, your girl, Marley. If you want to see her alive, I need a million dollars by the end of the night."
He lists off coordinates, and Gavin has his phone out, recording the message as John delivers it.
"Why did you do this? What do you want from me?" I shout at John. But he’s already ended the call. I try to call the number back but there's no answer. "Fuck!" I shout to the sky, screaming profanities for what he’s done.
"We need to go to the sheriff," Jett says.
I grimace, thinking of what it means if we get the cops involved. I've had enough run-ins with them in my life to know how it all ends. Who wins, who loses, who dies. I clench my fists, wishing it had all gone down differently, but knowing only one thing matters now: Marley coming home.
A few hours later, I've made my choice. I'm in a helicopter, with a duffel bag full of cash. A million dollars. I'm in the same clothes I had on this morning, but there are a few vital differences. Assurances. And so as the helicopter flies toward the coordinates given by Father John, I take a deep breath, knowing I'm doing the right thing for once.
For Marley, for our future, for our baby.
When the helicopter lands, I get out of the plane, nodding stoically to the men still on board. "We're here if you need us," they say. “And we'll come in with back up as soon as you make the call.”
I nod, grabbing the bag of cash, hoping like hell John hasn't done something stupid in the time it took to get the money and make the plans.
I walk toward an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I called Bellamy before we came, asking if the coordinates given by Father John were the same ones that she'd been living at not so long ago.
Sadly, she told me they were. "Oh my God," she'd cried into the receiver. "If he does something to her…"
"Is he a violent man?" I asked her.
"He's a desperate man," she told me, "He's not a killer, but he is an addict, and if he wants something, he's going to get it."
I ended the call more resolute than I'd ever been in my life, and now I hold that feeling with me as I walk toward the farmhouse.
Father John stalks out to the front porch, his hair long and raggedy. He's missing some teeth, and his skin is more than sun-weathered. It looks like he's been beat up a time or two. His eyes are bright red, cracked out. He's high as a kite. He doesn't know what he's doing, which means Marley might really be in trouble.
"You want this money?" I shout to him when I'm ten yards away. "Then I need to see Marley.”
He whistles with his two fingers between his lips and some guys drag Marley out. There's a bag over her head. Her wrists are tied behind her back, and she's shouting. My heart breaks at the sight.
"Don't give him the money, don't! Don't play by his rules," she begs.
But I don't listen. I can't listen because my vision is blurred. When I see her in trouble like this, she's all that matters. All that's ever mattered.
I drop the duffel bag in the middle of the field, and Father John walks over, ripping it open. "It's all there," I say, "accounted for."
He pulls Marley's bag off of her head, and her face is streaked with tears, her eyes wild. Her freckled face filled with fear, pleading with me, desperate and scared.
"It's okay, baby," I tell her. "It's all going to be okay."
"We good?" I ask Father John. “You’re a fucking bastard, you know that? You can take all my money, but you will not take my girl."
Father John cackles grotesquely, and I lift Marley into my arms, pulling her to me tight.
"You're just going to walk away?” she asks. “You're going to give him all that money and… let him go free?”
"Trust me," I say into her ear, carrying her back toward the helicopter. Into the mic strapped to my clothes, I tell the Feds that are on the helicopter, "It's go time. I got her. If they're armed, it's not by much."
/> I run with Marley towards the helicopter, towards safety as another helicopter lands. I get in the first one with the love of my life as more federal agents land on Father John's property, rushing from the helicopter towards his home, guns raised, ready to fight. Ready to put that man behind bars.
"The police?" Marley asks as our pilot takes off.
I nod. "That was a part of the deal. Father John is a wanted criminal throughout the state, not only for his drug trafficking and his sex cult, but he's been trafficking women. I gave the Feds the coordinates, agreed to wear a wire, and they would get us out before the shooting started. And the money, don’t worry, they’ll get it back.”
She cries against me as we ascend, the helicopter flying into the Alaskan sky. "You worked with the cops for me?" she whispers in shock.
"What, you didn't think I had it in me?"
"No, I just thought cops always screwed you over. I thought…"
"Look," I tell her, cupping her cheek with my hand. "I love you, Marley Grove, with all that I am and all that I could be. I've learned a thing or two since I met you, most importantly that I would do anything to keep you safe. After I got the ransom call, I walked right over to Sheriff Price and asked how I could help. Played him the message that John left for me, and we made a plan.”
“Oh Maker, I was so scared… I thought I’d never see you again.”
I kiss her cheek. “No way, baby. I told you when we first met, I was trying to be a good guy," I tell her.
"You are a good guy. You're the best guy, and Maker, I love you. I love you so much, and I'm sorry for telling you to go. I was scared, scared of loving you and losing you and being left alone. But after everything that happened today, I felt like life was slipping away and all I could think was how much I would regret not having told you how I truly feel. I love you, Maker, with all that I am. If you'll have me, I'm yours."
"Oh, baby," I say, "you're mine now and forever." I kiss her then, long and hard, the whole way back home to Riverside. Her brothers are scared, everyone in town is terrified of the town sweetheart being kidnapped, held for ransom.
"You're my hero," Marley says. She kisses me again, and my heart seems to expand in ways I never thought possible. I thought I was the villain of this story, thought I was unredeemable, that I'd spend the rest of my life paying for what I'd done.
But it turns out, that's not how all stories end. Because in this one, the bad guy turns good. And in the end, he gets the girl.
Epilogue 1
Marley
One year later…
I wake up with a smile on my face. I got an incredible eight hours of sleep last night, but I groan, feeling the weight of my breasts. They're so full and heavy. I immediately sit up in bed, thinking of Dawn. At five months old, the girl is always hungry.
But I don't need to leave the bed to get to her. Maker is carrying her to me.
"Get back in bed, Marley. I think if you feed her, she'll sleep for a few more hours."
I look over at the clock. It's only 5:30. "Did you get her in the middle of the night?" I ask as I cradle our daughter in my arms, offering her breakfast.
"You needed your sleep," he says, getting into bed next to me. He kisses me softly. "You looked so peaceful and you weren't stirring at all when she woke up."
"Did she fuss much?"
"Nah, she took the bottle like a champ at midnight and at three."
I laugh softly. "Oh my God, this girl is such a terrible sleeper." I lean down, kissing her head, breathing in her perfect baby smell. "But I wouldn't trade her for the world."
"Me neither. And since we don't have day jobs, I'm telling you I can help with her at night — you need your beauty rest."
"What are you trying to say?"
He chuckles. "I'm saying you're a morning person, but that is only true if you've gotten at least eight hours of sleep the night before."
I laugh, thinking he's right. "I feel like a new woman," I say. When Dawn finishes nursing, Maker takes her from me, burping her.
"I'm going to change her and then try to get her back to bed. Okay?"
I nod, "Okay." Stretching down the bed, my whole body feels warm, awake, in a way I haven't felt in a really long time. "Don't take too long," I say. "I'm really feeling like a morning person today."
Maker's eyebrows rise. "Is that so?" He’s smiling as he walks out of the room.
We named our daughter Dawn. We thought, since we're both morning people, it was the perfect name. But not only that, she is our fresh start. Our beginning.
And when she came into the world, Maker and I were on solid ground, had already been putting down roots for six months in this beautiful cabin he built for us. It’s nestled in the woods, facing the water. Pine trees surround us. My literal dream come true.
He'd been building this place for me when we were apart. He knew my heart in ways I hadn't even shared because Maker was made for me and I was made for him — and Dawn, she's the most beautiful gift we could have ever received.
I pull off my panties and nursing tank in anticipation of my husband’s return. I’m smiling as I listen to the lyrics of the lullaby Maker is singing to his little girl.
When he comes back in the room, my whole heart is bursting with love for him, gratitude and desire. He must see it in my eyes. The early morning sunlight is filtering through the window. The lights are off. The house is quiet.
"Come here, baby," I say, drawing him to bed.
He moves on top of me, his strong body and firm chest leaning over me and making me feel safe and beautiful, like I'm his. He kisses me softly and I wrap my arms around him. My legs too.
"God, someone woke up in a good mood. I'm definitely taking over the night shift from here on out."
I laugh. "Fine by me," I say, "especially if our days always start like this."
He growls in my ear, "You're so fucking sexy."
I feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Sure, I have a little bit more weight on my hips and my backside since the baby, Maker likes it — I know he does because he can't keep his hands off of me. And to be honest, I can't keep my hands off of him either.
His cock is hard and he fills me up. And I remember our first night together on his boat. When he made me his, in ways neither of us were quite prepared for.
"Oh, you feel so good," I moan as he moves inside of me, against me.
"You want another baby?" he asks.
I laugh, knowing it’s time to tell him what I discovered las night after he was already in bed.
"What?" he asks. "You didn't say yes or no."
My eyes light up. "Because, Maker, I'm already pregnant. That's why I'm so tired."
He rolls me over so I'm straddling him and he pulls me close. His mouth on mine, my breasts against his chest. He squeezes my ass as he thrusts deep inside of me.
“Truly?”
I nod, my heart bursting with joy as I take in his smile.
"God, baby,” he says. “We really do have it all."
Epilogue 2
Maker
Five years later…
The distillery is tucked deep in the Whiskey Mountains, right where it belongs.
It's a private place, and we keep our recipe under wraps. We don't want too many people to get too close to what we have going on here. And what we've got going on is damn good. We’re making the finest whiskey the West Coast has ever seen, and I'm not just talking shit.
We've won prizes and it's only going to get better the more it ages. Just like the love all of us fuckers have found.
Today though, we're in Riverside at our tasting room in town, and everyone's brought their families. Some people might not think a whiskey tasting room is the place to bring the kiddos, but hell, when you're in Alaska, you do it your way. Besides, Sheriff Price is here, so we've got the A-Okay.
We have a catering company passing out food, and we've got live music, and everybody is smiling, having a good old time. We just released our finest blend since we've b
een in business. And I'm damn proud of what we've created.
Marley's brothers, Gavin, Jett, and Dylan, are grinning ear to ear. And I know how much it means to Marley to have them doing a line of work that keeps them a little bit safer than heading out on the crabbing boats.
Marley comes up to me, carrying an old fashioned. "Thanks for hiring a bartender who can make the ladies some drinks."
I chuckle, shaking my head at my girl. She refuses to drink the whiskey straight.
I give her a kiss. "Damn, your lips are sweet," I say, kissing her again.
She has Tana in her arms and our twins at her feet. They're two now. All of our kiddos are stair stepped, five, four, three, two, two, and one. She wanted five kids or more. And I gave my girl what she wanted. Fuck, I'd give Marley the whole damn world if she asked for it, but she doesn't want that. Somehow, she just wants me.
"You need to go get some photos taken with your friends — the photographer is here," she says.
I nod, knowing she's right. We thought it would be nice to get the men from Whiskey Mountain in a photo for once. We're not usually the kind of guys who want to be in the spotlight, but our women insist. And I appreciate the sentiment.
Who the fuck would have thought I'd be here now? A family man with all my friends in tow, their families growing, their relationships with their wives deeper than ever before, all of us out on the mountain. Well, except Beam and Bellamy — they're still in their tree house. And fuck, Beam keeps expanding that place. Every time they have another baby, he gets it in his mind to add another room.
We open the bottle of our newest blend and Jameson pours out glasses. The four of us are together — Jameson, Beam, Walker, and me — and damn, it feels right.
I stand right next to my brother, getting all kinds of sentimental. I know it might not be the most manly thing to say that I’ve got tears in my eyes, but as we raise the glass for the photo, I do.
I came into Alaska a broken man, and somehow this place— the saltwater and the pine trees and the fresh air, it fucking healed me in all the ways I needed.
