Enduring (Family Justice Book 8)

by Suzanne Halliday

  Leaning his butt against the kitchen counter, Rafe took a mouthful of the scalding beverage, then tracked the heat as it washed over his tongue, scorched his throat, and warmed his belly.

  The turmoil wrestling in his thoughts was making his heart beat faster. He wanted to find Aunt Judy and shit in her oatmeal.

  Well, actually, he wanted to go full Justice on her, but being a self-righteous cunt wasn’t a capital offense. That did not mean, however, that he had to let her off the hook. Not when he thought about the hell she put Domineau through.

  Snap decisions made over middle-of-the-night coffee probably needed a cooler head and the light of day, but he didn’t stop to analyze his response. From the table by the front door, he grabbed his phone and noticed the flamingo key chain. For reasons he didn’t care to pick apart, Rafe took this as a sign he was doing the right thing.

  Doing the right thing and remembering it was three thirty in the morning were not the same thing, which explained why he chose that moment to send a lengthy text to Jason, explaining what he wanted. He didn’t doubt Domineau also kept the bitch in her scope, but he wanted a complete overview of the situation. The woman asleep in his bed had been through enough, goddammit. It was time for her to stand down and let her man handle things.

  A chortling cackle of laughter ripped from his throat. Her man! Ahahahaaa!

  Chapter 6

  “Son, what’s the matter?” His dad switched gears, dug his heels in, and broke the land speed record with the fastest father-interrogation U-turn in history.

  The question made Parker wince. He might be able to use his prodigious lawyer-speak skills to coat what he said and how he came off with bullshit, but his father taught him everything he knew. In short, when facing off with Matt Sullivan, you did so at your own peril. The man had a Ph.D. in deflection and could sense sunshine blowing up his ass.

  His dad’s beefy hand thumped Parker’s shoulder. “Save us both the hassle of unnecessary hide and seek. Say what’s on your mind, and we’ll figure it out.”

  Motioning to an empty corner of the coffee shop, they claimed a table at the window and sat. The cream cheese coffee cake muffin that seemed so appealing when they ordered sat on a napkin. He worried that choking to death might be a factor if he tried to chew and swallow while his throat was dry.

  His father, however, had no such worries. Fresh strawberries covered the piece of angel food cake he was tackling—the damn slice was the size of a cantaloupe.

  “Don’t tell your mother about this.” Dad snickered before pouring a ridiculous amount of sweet cream from a cow-shaped pitcher. His father’s lawyerly justification for the prohibited indulgence was that the angel food cake and strawberries had no added sugar. The defense sounded reasonable despite them knowing he was full of shit.

  An indulgent smile overtook Parker’s face. He loved his parents’ unique blend of witty give and take. There hadn’t been a single day throughout his whole life when he didn’t appreciate his luck in the mom and dad lottery. Matt and Wendy Sullivan were the real deal. He was an only child and had never questioned his parents’ love for him. What made them special was the deep, abiding love they had for each other. Without that love, he wouldn’t be sitting there. No further justification was necessary for why he asked for this get-together.

  His muffin remained untouched while he sipped a large, scalding hot coffee and watched his dad’s over-the-top enjoyment of the forbidden sugar treat.

  “We don’t have all day, and if you don’t start talking, I’ll be forced to get another pastry.” His dad shrugged. “I’ll blame you when Mom goes bananas!”

  The mild reproach was all he needed to blurt it out. All of it.

  “Why do women think in fat terms? Is it some genetic thing? I’m serious,” he scowled when a burble of laughter met his confusion.

  Parker watched his dad wipe his mouth on a napkin and wondered if he was covering up a smirk.

  “Sorry. Rhetorical question. Continue.”

  That was the problem, though. He was being completely serious. It wasn’t a figurative statement. He actually wanted an answer. Sitting back with a heavy sigh, his head shook, and he pushed his fingers through his hair.

  “I don’t get it, Dad. Angie barely flinched before the wedding. She handled the whole bride on display thing and wrestled it to the ground like a boss. I do not like that weight is such a big deal now that she’s pregnant. She stresses out before every doctor’s visit, and steps on and off the scale enough that it’s a cardio activity.”

  He dipped his chin and sighed again. “That’s not all.”

  He glanced around the busy coffee hangout, his rational mind picking up a dozen normal things. A cluster of millennials dominated an adjacent corner. Two school age kids were driving their mom batshit while she fed a kid in a seat. Mr. Schneider from the corner deli was enjoying a newspaper along with two containers of coffee. Outside on the sidewalk, people ambled by. It all seemed so perfectly normal.

  “It’s hard to explain. I feel … excluded. And I don’t like it. Not like Alex was,” he hurried to explain. “His jock strap snapped because he felt useless. This is different. She’s … I don’t know.”

  This pronouncement got his father’s undivided attention.

  More words rushed from his mouth. “She keeps up a frenetic pace of near constant activity. Energetic and wild one moment followed by uncontrolled dips that trigger all sorts of shit.”

  “Like thinking she’s fat.”

  He nodded at his father’s wise observation. “I hate the word. It pisses me off. She knows it, but that hasn’t stopped her behavior. It’s as if she’s mad at me or something.”

  Parker dialed back the near snarl of an iron-willed Dom. There were some things nobody, not even his folks, needed to know. That part of the equation was between him and his wife. She was actively pushing his buttons, and he couldn’t figure out why.

  Plus, and this was a big plus, in addition to seeming pissed off, she was keeping things from him. Not secrets—it felt more like practiced behaviors intended to make it seem as though everything was okay. That she was okay. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit. Secrets and lies nearly destroyed their lives. All those years ago, she had kept things from him. He didn’t share with her. They lied to everyone. In the end, all those locked doors and hiding places led to nearly a decade of loss. A loss he might never get over.

  And Angie understood this—at least, he thought she did. Whenever this subject came up, he went out of his way to be totally honest—even if that honesty made him look bad. There couldn’t be barriers between them. Nothing. Ever. They’d tried that, and it didn’t work.

  He thought somewhat uncomfortably of the physical doors he had destroyed while making this point. One at the Villa, another in his old house, and one of the bathroom doors in their new house. On that occasion, he’d reacted like a caveman when he’d discovered she locked the stupid door. To the bathroom. He broke it down, and she went off by going up one side of him and down the other. The door wasn’t locked! It was just stuck. She’d never lock him out, or so she insisted. And why was he testing doorknobs? Was he that insecure?

  What she was doing felt like a mental barricade. Her acting needed work because he wasn’t fooled. Something was wrong; even if it was dumb or trivial, he had to figure this thing out.

  Leave it to his dad to reduce everything to one basic question. A question that left Parker feeling like a dumbass.

  “What’s she afraid of?”

  He groaned, sat forward, and put his head in his hands. Was he really that dense? Everything was starting to make sense. Angel was afraid.

  “This being pregnant thing has me in over my head. I don’t know what I imagined it’d be like. Mostly, all I saw was what came at the end. The kid. Trying to understand what she’s going through, well,” he grunted harshly, “haven’t had much luck with that. Now I understand why Alex whined so much.”

  Matt Sullivan’s wise, knowing gaze comforted
Parker. Maybe he wasn’t losing it after all.

  “No man can fully understand what his woman goes through to give him a child. It’s God’s way of reminding us that we don’t know shit.”

  A chuckle rumbled from Parker’s chest. His dad hit the nail on the head with the insightful dig. The man played a crucial part in the baby making but had absolutely no role and definitely no clue after that. And as for what Angie was afraid of, he wasn’t sure.

  “Not knowing shit means I haven’t a clue what’s at the heart of this.”

  “I’m going to tell you something, son. Something only Cris and Ash know. I think you need to hear this—especially now.”

  When his dad’s tone and tenor changed to dead serious, anxiety ricocheted through Parker’s system.

  “Making a family is the dream of most couples. For some, the road is bumpy. We were lucky. When your mom and I realized you were on the way, our happiness was so off the charts that it never occurred to us something could go wrong.”

  Go wrong? Oh, fuck. What was his dad trying to tell him? Did he think something could go wrong with Angie and the baby?

  “When you were almost three, we got pregnant again. By then we were in a tongue-in-cheek race with your aunt and uncle to see which of us could pop out the most kids.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Parker groaned. “Dad. What are you saying?”

  The waves of emotion coming off his father made for difficult breathing. His heart thumped as he waited for what came next.

  “Everything was great. Better than great. It was a good time. And then one day, without warning, our happiness was gone. In what felt like the blink of an eye, everything changed. Your mother almost died.”

  Parker clutched his chest as searing pain shot straight into his heart.

  “I relive those moments all the time, son. It’s something that will never leave me. Listening to the doctors tell me our daughter was gone and hearing the concern for your mother. Those were terrible hours. I was alone, grieving a crushing loss and twisted with fear that I’d lose your mother too.”

  He felt the tears a second before the first dripped from his chin. A sister. His mother on death’s doorstep and his father struggling to stay sane.

  “You wonder what your wife fears. In Angelina’s case, the answer will be complicated. She has loved you, only you, for a very long time. And in case you haven’t figured this out yet, giving you the baby you both want is all on her. I would wager that she is terrified. Of failing. Of the unknown. Of disappointing you. Angie can handle anything, but right now, she’s being severely tested.”

  There was nothing for him to do but cover his eyes with a hand and quietly cry. For his mom and dad. For the sister he never knew. When he got his sorrow under control, his thoughts turned to the love of his life.

  As the sound of his father clearing his throat cut through the heavy cloud of emotion, Parker wiped his face and pulled it together.

  “I’ll have to let your mom know that I told you. I cannot keep something like that from her. She’ll be upset. Decades later, it still hurts, so please don’t try to talk to her about it, okay?”

  “I understand, and I won’t say a word. I am, however, sending her a shit ton of flowers, and I don’t want to hear any guff from you about it.”

  “Deal.” They shook hands over the table.

  After putting the million-calorie muffin in a to-go box, they tidied up and left the shop. They walked the two blocks to the municipal lot where his dad had parked and discussed the local news along the way.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Parker quipped. “Sullivan Legal ponied up a serious donation for new lamppost banners. We ended up covering the entire expense. All the holidays plus the town’s generic banners.”

  “Did that fucknut Josh Gordon try to take over? Is that why we ate the whole cost?”

  His dad didn’t sound thrilled, so Parker stopped walking and made a rude gesture. “I fucking hate that guy. What the hell is his problem?”

  Matt Sullivan barked with laughter. “You know damn well what his problem is. Dad’s a wanker working on wife number three. Plus, accountants hate lawyers. It’s in the code.”

  “Yeah, well the smarmy shit has a wake-up call coming. Alex and I are sick of his crap and really goddamn over him and those Chixie Dick fuckers trying to dick ride Thunder.”

  “Holy crap, son. That’s a lot of fucks.” His dad chuckled.

  He laughed and squeezed the tension from the back of his neck with his hand. “Chixie dick fuckers was probably over the line, huh?”

  “Pretty much although dick riding Thunder was a creative combo.”

  Something chilling danced up his spine. Parker said nothing and silently contemplated the unusual sensation while helping his dad get situated in the car. His status as honorary Team Justice member trained him to be situationally aware. The battlefield skill came in handy when he was doing his lawyer thing. Sometimes, it also made him hyper-aware of his surroundings. At times, all it took was a gust of air.

  Chuckling at whatever his dad said, Parker gave off an easygoing vibe and made a casual, nonchalant glance around the parking lot. There wasn’t any movement, but he was certain they were being watched.

  Checking the time on his watch, he went back to making sure his dad got going. Waving him off, Parker walked to the sidewalk and exit. His hand was in his pocket wrapped around his phone. By happenstance, the lot attendant came out of his little kiosk. It was one of the regulars he knew by name.

  “Hey, Gary,” he said with his hand extended in a friendly greeting. Parker’s trial experience was fertile ground for learning to think on his toes and act decisively. In the blink of an eye, he knew what to do.

  “Hi, Mr. Sullivan. Sullivan Senior get off okay?”

  “Yeah, he did. Thanks. Listen, I noticed you’ve got a problem in the back of the lot. Looks like someone might have backed into the wall. A couple of cinderblocks are wonky, and there’s some debris in a pile.”

  He pointed at the back of the lot. This gave him an opportunity to study the parked cars and search for anything amiss.

  “Oh, shit, thanks. I’ll check it out.”

  Parker smiled. “Liability issues can make life a living hell if you get sued.”

  Gary asked for further direction and gestured to the left corner. “Back there?”

  The fortuitous question gave the perfect opportunity to snap a picture of the lot. He pointed and held down the photo button on his phone—snapping dozens of pictures. The pictures might reveal if someone was lurking.

  He gave Gary a friendly thump on the shoulder and shook his hand. They exchanged a few pleasantries, and then Parker hightailed it back to his office.

  “I’m beat,” Angie complained to Sophie. “Have we spent enough to satisfy you? Can we go home now?”

  “What the hell is your problem, Angelina? Parker specifically said you should spend all of his money. Not some, all.” She gestured at the three modest bags by their feet. “Seriously?”

  She wiggled awkwardly in the uncomfortable chair. The slippery plastic and wobbly frame made her nervous. “Oh, stop it. You know damn well blowing through wads of cash has never been my thing. And before you say another word, the baby has more shit than you know. She is gonna do just fine, trust me. Besides, I have months to go, and if Mom or Aunt Wendy has anything to say about it, we will have to get a storage space just to contain the madness. How many baby seats does one kid need?”

  Sophie looked at her as if she was an idiot. “Well, let’s see,” she griped with a pithy sniff. “I have one at home, one in my office at the Double M, and one at Jace’s office. Then there are the extras we all keep at the Villa.”

  Angie squirmed. “Oh.” She felt stupid. For the gazillionth time, she bit her lip and worried she was shaping up to be a shit mother.

  “Hey,” Sophie murmured softly. The warmth of her sister’s hand gently rubbing Angie’s thigh almost made her cry. “What’s the matter, baby girl?”


  Oh, fuck. She gulped and willed the tears to go away. Of all the terms for Sophie to use, why that one?

  Anxiety made her blurt out the secret worry she carried. “I’m gonna suck as a mom. I just know it.”

  Sophie gave a sharp gasp and scooted her chair closer. They were sitting outside the Bean ’n’ Brew sipping iced decafs. People surrounded them. Some crammed at the haphazard scatter of cheap plastic tables and chairs, and others walked by on the sidewalk. Ordinarily, she might have fun shopping her ass off in Flagstaff, but today, she just wasn’t feeling it.

  “Why would you think that, Angie?” Sophie scolded. “Shame on you. You’re great with Teo, plus Calder goes on and on about how much Wolf loves you. Even Alex sings your praises. He told Jace how you finagled him out of his guitar and sing songs with the twins.”

  All of that was true, but she was still riddled with fear. Loving the baby wasn’t the problem. Angie adored the energetic kid. Sometimes, when her daughter danced in her womb, she would rub her belly and giggle. And at night, when Parker smoothed cream on her bump, she could feel the love her baby had for them.

  Was she vaguely aware that she was being overemotional and silly? Well, okay—sure. But knowing didn’t change how she felt. She and this feeling were old friends. Fear of failing Parker was the chink in her armor. He knew about this quirk but did not care for the negative connotation and could be a grumpy prick about it. Their D/s dynamic was feeling the strain because she would not let it go despite giving off the impression nothing was bothering her.

  The man read her like a book. A book of pages he had memorized.

  Sophie didn’t wait for her to say anything. She morphed into mother hen mode and started fussing. “You’re tired. That’s all. Too much walking. My bad.” She pulled out her phone and quickly typed. “Ben will meet us on the sidewalk in ten. You’re right, baby girl. Time to head home.”

  “Please don’t call me that,” Angie muttered. “Parker says it too.” Her lip wobbled for no reason, and she caressed her bump.