by Leddy Harper
After asking Killian if he wanted to go to my appointment with me, we hadn’t spoken. He’d left one letter that night, but other than that, it’d been radio silence. I’d wanted to go to him, day after day, but for one reason or another, I decided against it. So as I got dressed Thursday morning, my stomach knotted and my hands trembled.
When I pulled into the parking lot of the doctor’s office, I spotted Killian right away. He stood next to the front door with his back against the building, waiting for me. The sight of him made me smile and relax. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a light button-up shirt. As I approached him, I could tell he’d gotten a haircut since the last time I’d seen him. He still wore it pulled back, but the underneath was shaved closer to his scalp. And God, did he smell good—the same scent I always remembered belonging to him was back.
“Are you ready?” he asked and opened the door for me to enter.
“Ready for what?” My face flamed with the stupidity of my question. I couldn’t recall a time I’d been more nervous. It was ridiculous, considering this was Killian. I’d known him since I was ten years old. He was my first. My only. Hell, I was having a baby with the man. Yet for some reason, his presence and the sound of his voice rendered me stupid.
“Don’t we get to find out what we’re having today?”
We took our seats in the waiting room after I signed in. “Do you want to know what the sex is?” Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about it. My health and the health of my unborn child were always on the top of my priority list, but everything else seemed to have fallen to the wayside. The gender, names, colors…none of it mattered to me.
Killian looked me right in the eyes, not a hint of emotion on his face, and said, “Of course.”
“Oh, I didn’t think it was that important.”
“I mean, I want to make sure the baby is okay. That’s the most important thing. And of course, make sure you’re okay. But after that, I’d like to know what we’re having. I’m doing the baby’s room next, and I’d like to know what color to paint the walls and what kind of mural to put up.” The confidence in which he spoke, as if it was already written in the stars that we’d be together and living in that house, sent my heart into a slight arrhythmia.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the nurse came through the door and called out my name. Killian stood and pulled me up by my hand, even though I wasn’t big enough to need the help. He kept our fingers laced together while we followed the woman to a back room where an examination table sat next to an ultrasound machine.
“Don’t you have to get naked or something?” Killian asked after the nurse left the room.
I giggled and settled back onto the white paper lining the bed. “No. The ultrasound wand goes over my stomach. All I have to do is lower the band on my pants and pull up my shirt. Sorry to disappoint you.”
He scratched his chin, the short hairs bristling beneath his nails, and examined the computer next to me. Then he turned to face me before lifting my shirt just enough to see my stomach. Laying on my back, I didn’t look pregnant—in fact, even standing up I barely showed. I just looked like I’d packed on a few pounds and had a soft belly. But Killian looked at me like I was the sexiest woman in the world.
It’d been a long time since I’d seen that look.
And it stilled my heart for a beat.
He placed his hand over my warm, sensitive skin, and ran his thumb from side to side. “What do you think it is?” he asked, not once taking his sights off my stomach, as if he could see through me to the baby I harbored.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it.”
His eyebrows pinched together when he shifted his gaze from his hand to my face. “Not at all? I can’t stop thinking about it. Well, about the baby in general. Are you not happy about it? Do you not want this?”
Pain struck me hard in the chest at the thought of Killian thinking I didn’t want this child. Or want it with him. Quickly, I shook my head and said, “No. That’s not it at all. Of course I want it. Of course I’m happy and excited. There’s just been so much going on…and it’s hard to think about it all.”
He nodded and licked his lips, as if contemplating his next words. “I think it’s a boy. A beautiful, healthy baby boy. And he’s going to be happy and loved and taken care of.” He continued to stroke my belly, practically speaking to the child inside me.
“Hey, Killian?” I cleared my throat, trying to rid myself of the nerves. “How did you learn to work on houses? Like…where did you learn how to do all that?” It was something I’d wanted to know since I found out about the house down the street, but I never had the gall to walk over there and ask him. I hadn’t been ready for it yet. But now I couldn’t find a reason not to ask.
“After I moved away, I worked at a few construction companies. I started just helping out for a few bucks. Over time, I was able to learn a few things until they were giving me more responsibilities and tasks. I really enjoyed the alone time. I was able to do a lot of thinking. Before finding…Josh…I was in a town about three hours outside Baltimore for a little over two years. That’s where I learned most of what I know now. It’s also where I learned to box.”
A knock sounded at the door before it opened and a young woman walked in, interrupting our conversation. The grin on her lips never faltered, even after introducing herself to Killian. There are no words to express the joy and contentment I felt watching him interact with someone comfortably. It was what I’d always wished for.
As the woman took measurements and pictures of the baby, she pointed to the screen and said things like, “here are the fingers and toes,” and “the little nugget’s legs are crossed.” While she pointed everything out, Killian sat right beside me, my hand in his, with his attention glued to the screen in front of us. Occasionally, he’d turn to catch my eye, but most of the time, he was too absorbed in the images of our unborn child to do anything else.
“So, are you ready to know what you’re having?” the woman asked with a gleam in her eyes. It was obvious she enjoyed her job as she never seemed to stop smiling. When we both nodded, Killian pulling himself out of his chair, she said, “It’s a boy.”
I was beyond excited, but Killian was ecstatic. He fist-pumped the air and let out a celebratory “hoorah!” It made me giggle, but more than anything, it filled me with pride. This man, who’d spent over half his life in silence, couldn’t contain his eagerness over our big news. Words flowed as if he’d never gone a day without speaking. Excitement laced his hollers.
He obviously wasn’t silenced anymore.
“This…” he said while pointing to the black-and-white printout of our baby after the sonographer left the room. “This is my inspiration. To be the man this child needs. To be the father this baby deserves.”
I pulled the strap of my purse over my shoulder, but paused when he grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I never truly apologized to you, Rylee. And you, more than anyone, deserve it. I wasted so much time chasing the revenge I thought was necessary to move past what’d happened to me. But that’s not what I needed. You were. You’ve always been exactly what I needed, when I needed it. And I turned my back on you. I listened to my anger and resentment, when I should’ve listened to my heart. My heart has always led me to you. It always will. I’m sorry. For so many things, but mostly because I hurt you. I’ll never do that again. I swear.”
He wiped a tear off my cheek and pressed his lips to my forehead.
“I will do right by our baby, right by you. Be who you both deserve.”
“I don’t…” I started to speak but the words became clogged in my throat and wouldn’t come out past the emotion building inside.
“You may not think you know what you want right now. You may believe you need more time to figure it all out. But I’m not worried at all, and do you know why? Because I love you. And you love me. And despite everything we’ve been through, we belong together.
I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you. The moment I spoke to you for the very first time. I have no doubts. I’m not giving up, and I won’t let you do it, either.”
As I stared at him, I couldn’t help but fall in love all over again.
In so many ways, he harbored horrible brutality no one should ever experience, but with me, his innocence was blind and beautiful—perfect.
The rest of the day was hectic, fitting a full schedule into one afternoon.
But I’d finally made it to the last appointment of the day.
The little boy in the chair across from me continued to color in his book without looking at me. He did this often. Sometimes, he just sat there, staring at the walls. He spoke, but not much. Mostly, it was stories about his group activities, never anything regarding his case. It broke my heart to see him so quiet, so withdrawn. He reminded me so much of Killian it was sometimes hard to separate the two. Eleven is never an easy age—so many things changing—but it was worse when you’ve lived through a tragedy.
Tyler McHugh had a good life. His parents loved him, his grandparents were always around. He did well in school and had plenty of friends. But life has a way of laughing in your face, reminding you things aren’t always perfect. Reminding you of the evil inside others. And that’s exactly what happened to Tyler less than a year ago.
It was the middle of math class on a Wednesday morning. His teacher stood at the board, explaining something Tyler couldn’t remember. He couldn’t recall what time it was—just after eleven thirty—or what he’d eaten for breakfast that morning. But the things he could remember would more than likely stick with him for the rest of his life.
The door opened and his teacher turned around.
She wore a yellow sweater over a white dress.
Everything became “loud and quiet at the same time.”
And then Mrs. Landrey’s dress was no longer white.
Her sweater was no longer yellow.
They were soaked red.
Kids screamed and ducked beneath their desks, and from Tyler’s hiding spot, he watched as some of his friends cried, some shook with fear…and others were motionless. Lifeless. Those were the images he’d never forget. The ones that would haunt him forever. The ones he’d told me about when we first met.
Since then, he didn’t speak about much.
Today, he just sat there with his tongue peeking out past his lips while he concentrated on his coloring. It was something I offered to a lot of the kids—art. Tyler wasn’t the best at staying inside the lines or drawing accurate depictions of things, but that didn’t matter. The important part was to express himself. In his own way.
I moved to sit next to him, to see what he was so intent on. I’d found a lot of the children who came to my office had to be led into talking. Simply asking what they were coloring or drawing or building really helped them open up. Even if they didn’t talk about their nightmares or feelings, at least they were talking. And to me, that was the most important thing they could do.
On his paper, he’d drawn a big smiley face attached to long sticks for the body, legs, and arms. “Is this you?” I asked and pointed to the paper. He wasn’t a little kid, so I tried to speak to him without the softness in my tone. Compassionate, but not condescending.
“No. He’s my friend from the group.” Tyler, as well as several other kids who had been through traumatic experiences, belonged to a city-run youth program. Three times a week, they’d get together and learn how to interact in a healthy environment. It was something I was passionate about, and encouraged all the children who came to see me to be a part of it—or at least something like it, be it the YMCA or the Big Brothers and Big Sisters Club. I was happy to see Tyler really take to it and enjoy his time there.
“So you’ve made friends? What’s his name?”
“Happy,” he said without taking his eyes off the paper.
My heart skipped a beat, then stopped, then overcompensated and sped up. “His name is Happy? Or is that just a nickname?”
Tyler shrugged.
“Is he your age?”
“No,” he answered with a slight shake of his head. “We see him when we go to the children’s gym on Mondays. He teaches us how to box. They have one of those big punching bags there, too. And we get to wear gloves.”
There was no way.
It couldn’t be true.
I had to have been hearing things.
“He teaches you how to fight?” My voice seemed to have been stuck in my throat, because my question came out sharp and off key.
Tyler finally stopped coloring and looked over at me. “No…well, kinda. We don’t learn how to fight people. That’s bad. It’s only okay if we need to defend ourselves, but there are other ways to do that before fighting. Happy just teaches us about ways to get the anger out. Like when we’re really mad about something. He taught us how to calm down, how to breathe better so we aren’t so mad.”
“And he does that while teaching you how to punch a bag?”
Tyler shook his head and laughed. Laughs didn’t come often with him, so I took a moment to enjoy the sound of this one. “No, silly. Boxing is for learning control. Happy says we’re the only ones who can control how we feel and what we do. It helps center us while giving us exercise.”
“And he tells you this, or someone else does?”
He quirked his head and peered at me through the sides of his eyes. “He tells us. Why wouldn’t he tell us if he’s teaching us?”
I offered him a smile and said, “I don’t know, that’s why I asked…silly.”
Again, he rewarded me with laughter.
And I couldn’t help but think Killian had something to do with it.
Thirty-Two
Killian
As the sun lowered in the sky, the temperature dropped. But nothing could cool down the excitement coursing through me over the day I had. Seeing my child, my son, sent me on a high I never wanted to come down from. Touching Rylee again made me feel like an addict who’d tasted their drug of choice for the first time after years of sobriety. But as I made my way into the neighborhood, drawing closer to her house, my nerves kicked up. I couldn’t explain it, but the thought of her rejecting me again did something to me. It made me anxious. Although, more than anything, it made me determined.
I’d never lose her again.
I wouldn’t allow it.
After one knock, the door opened. Rylee’s father stood in front of me. I hadn’t seen him in years, although he didn’t look much older than I remembered. As he stared at me, his gaze narrowed and he pulled his shoulders back. I knew he didn’t care for me very much, especially since his daughter was carrying my child and she didn’t have a ring on her finger. Not to mention the way I’d left her when she was only seventeen.
I expected him to hate me.
What I didn’t expect was for him to stand there with the door open, giving me a chance to speak. But that’s exactly what he did. With his arms crossed over his chest, he watched me, waited for me to make the first move.
The first word was always the hardest. It terrified me the moment my top lip met my bottom row of teeth or my tongue connected with the roof of my mouth to form the first sound of the first word. Speaking to new people wasn’t easy, but this wasn’t just a person who’d never heard me talk before. This was Rylee’s father. The man who’d seen me as a boy. A broken, lost, scarred boy. And now, I stood in front of him as a man. A man who was in love with his daughter, and I wouldn’t allow anything to get in the way of that. Not even the hoarse, groggy notes of my first words to him.
“Hi, Mr. Anderson.” Rylee’s mother came up behind him, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. “Mrs. Anderson. I’m sorry to just drop in uninvited, but I was hoping I could speak with Rylee.”
“Well, it’s about time you come here and do more than just leave a box by the door.” He shifted weight onto the other foot and made room for his wife. “Listen, I don’t presume to understand what’s goin
g on with you two, and to be honest, it’s not really my business. But I think you and I”—he turned to look at his wife—“and Holly need to have a chat first.”
I nodded and took a small step back, expecting him to come outside. “I agree. I actually have something I’d like to talk to you about as well.”
He remained in place and let his arms drop. “Okay, but us first. We want to make sure you’re planning on taking care of that baby. This isn’t some game where you get to pick and choose the responsibilities or when you get to take them on.”
“I know that, sir.” I held up my hand to stop him from continuing. “From the moment we found out she was pregnant, there hasn’t been a single thing I’ve done that hasn’t been for them. For both of them. Rylee and the baby. My son. There hasn’t been a day that has gone by since I was eleven years old that I haven’t loved your daughter. And there won’t ever be a day I don’t. I’m trying to right my wrongs. I may not know what I’m doing most of the time, but I can promise you I’m doing my very best.”
“That’s all we ask for,” he said, yet he didn’t move.
“I also want to apologize to you and Mrs. Anderson. I’m sorry for the way I left when I was eighteen. I’m sorry for hurting your daughter. I’m also grateful that she has both of you to lean on. She’s incredibly lucky to have parents who love her the way you two do.”
Mr. Anderson cleared his throat while his wife blotted her eyes.
“I will do right by Rylee. And that’s the reason I’m here.” I paused to take a breath, not necessarily needing the courage, but searching for the right words to say. “I want to marry your daughter—no.” I shook my head. “I will marry her. I know I’m supposed to ask for your permission, but if I’m being honest, I don’t want to. I don’t want to risk you saying no, because that’s an answer I won’t accept. I mean no disrespect to either of you. I’m just in love with Rylee and I can’t take the chance of her not being my wife. For any reason. I’m doing what I can to earn her trust back, and I’ll continue to do that until the day I die.”
