Falling for You: A Forbidden Office Romance (Annapolis Harbor Book 5)

by Lea Coll

  “She’s pregnant.” Saying the words out loud made them real.

  Mom sucked in a breath, her eyes filling with tears.

  “How can I be responsible for a human being, one that’s so vulnerable?” My voice cracked. I could be strong in front of Callie, in front of the guys, but not my mom.

  “You can’t hold yourself accountable the rest of your life. You both made a mistake. Amanda paid the price for it. But she’d want you to keep living your life. She wouldn’t want you to miss out on everything good that comes your way.”

  She was saying the same sentiments as Chase and Reid, but I couldn’t get past the fact that Amanda’s parents blamed me.

  “The Reynolds blame me.” I was holding on to the things I’d believed over the years. Tossing them back at my mom, I wasn’t sure if I wanted her to agree or disagree with me.

  “They don’t. I have had several conversations with them over the years. They don’t blame you. It’s hard for them. The pain of her death won’t ever go away, but they wouldn’t begrudge you living your life, being happy. They’d want you to have what Amanda couldn’t.”

  I let those words roll around in my head, testing their weight, their veracity.

  “Do you want to be a part of this baby’s life?”

  I think I did. “I want to be there for Callie.”

  “You have a while to prepare for the baby coming. We’ll be there for you, your friends, and Callie.”

  “If I haven’t screwed everything up with her…” The situation felt hopeless.

  “Nothing is unfixable. Not when you come from a place of caring. You’re worried you won’t be a good dad. That you’ll make mistakes. That’s being a parent. It’s normal.”

  I shook my head. “I have to apologize.”

  She bustled around the kitchen, cleaning the already spotless counters with a cloth. “You do, but you have to deal with this thing with the Reynolds first. I think you should talk to them.”

  Would I get closure by talking to them? Would I finally be able to move on, to let myself be happy? It sounded too good to be true.

  Maybe I could go to the gravesite, talk to Amanda. It was something I did whenever I returned to town. I never stayed long, worried I’d run into her parents.

  “What if they won’t see me?” I didn’t think I could handle that. It would be a confirmation that they blamed me.

  “They go to her gravesite every Tuesday evening.”

  A chill ran through me. The accident happened on a Tuesday. It was an opportunity to get some answers, maybe even closure. “Okay.”

  Her shoulders lowered. “You’ll go back?”

  “I have to.” I wanted to apologize to Callie, but I needed to take care of this first. Hopefully, she’d understand once I explained everything to her.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I wasn’t sure I deserved her praise. At least not yet. Everything hung in the balance—my past, my present, and my future. An image of a baby with a tuft of blond hair on his head popped into my head. I wanted to be a good father.

  Finally, she turned to me. “Congratulations.”

  I let it sink in that I was going to be a dad. It was terrifying. At the same time, I was bursting with love for Callie and our baby.

  “Do you want this baby?”

  “Of course, I do.” I couldn’t believe I’d said otherwise last night. I’d panicked.

  “Then go make things right. We’ll be here.”

  “Shouldn’t I plan how I’m going to make it up to her?” Didn’t I need to bring a gift or make some amazing gesture to fix it?

  “Don’t let her think you’re not going to be there for her.”

  Adrenaline coursed through me. I pulled up the airline website. I had to go home, the one place I’d run from. I had to face what I’d avoided my whole life. Booking the first flight back, I texted Callie.

  Jonah: I’m so sorry about last night. I want to see you. I want to talk to you, but there’s something I need to do first. I have to go home. Can we talk when I get back? I’ll explain everything.

  I didn’t expect an answer right away. The fact that I had a plan fueled me to pack and get on that plane. It was the first time I was returning to my hometown as a man, not the shell of the boy I was. I hoped Amanda’s parents would see that.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  JONAH

  I called Coach, explaining that I wouldn’t be at practice on Tuesday. Monday was a rest day. I told him everything—Callie’s pregnancy, my past, and my need to speak to the Reynolds. I needed closure even if they didn’t forgive me. If they still blamed me for what happened, I’d understand. Dealing with the death of a child was difficult.

  Facing the prospect of being a father, I was worried about Callie and the baby’s health. I wished I’d asked more questions. I wanted to be there for Callie, be at her doctor’s appointments. Instead, I’d read everything I could on the plane to catch up.

  I’d pushed what happened to Amanda and my guilt so far down, I’d failed to actually deal with it in any meaningful way. I’d let it interfere with my personal relationships, rarely getting close to anyone. I’d allowed it to steamroll, potentially ruining my future with Callie and my child. I wouldn’t continue to make that mistake.

  My parents came with me, wanting to support me in my decision. Walking around town on Monday was surreal. In the past, when I’d visited, I’d go straight to my parents’ home, never venturing out. I was afraid of what people might say, afraid of running into the Reynolds. Fear kept me frozen. At this point, no one would know who I was or what had happened, but it was important for me to move past the idea that I wasn’t welcome in my hometown.

  To my surprise, several people approached me, congratulating me on my accomplishments. It wasn’t that accolades overshadowed what happened, but I was starting to think people didn’t blame me for the accident. Maybe I’d been too harsh on myself all along. Yeah, I set things into motion, but she didn’t have to go along with it. I never told her to speed over the limit or accelerate if she encountered a police officer. Those were her decisions.

  Tuesday evening, I went to the gravesite with a bouquet of flowers. I’d been careful in the past not to leave a trace of my visits, but this time, I wanted to. The air was heavy with moisture, the grass wet from earlier rain. The sky was overcast. I carefully arranged the sunflowers, Amanda’s favorite in high school, in the vase that was part of the gravestone. I stood, not wanting to get wet, closing my eyes.

  I’m so sorry that we made the decision we made that night. I never wanted this to happen.

  I stood there, my eyes closed, listening to the drip-drip of water on the leaves of a nearby tree. I pushed out the guilt and shame, letting in peace.

  “Jonah,” a woman’s voice wavered.

  Opening my eyes, I saw the Reynolds.

  “My parents said you’d be here. I hope it’s okay. I thought we should talk.”

  Mrs. Reynolds’s expression was pained. Mr. Reynolds nodded.

  I took a deep breath, trying to remember what I’d planned to say. The actual speech eluded me. Instead, I went with my gut. “I’m so sorry for my part in Amanda’s accident. I never meant for it to happen.”

  “We know you didn’t,” Mr. Reynolds finally said, his voice gruff with emotion. “We’ve had a lot of time to think, to reflect, to regret.”

  I waited, letting him gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry for what I said to you at the funeral. I was distraught, out of my mind with grief, but it didn’t excuse it. We don’t blame you—not anymore. Amanda made her own decisions that night.” Mr. Reynolds broke off.

  “Amanda wasn’t wearing a seat belt. She made several poor decisions that night, but that was the one I couldn’t get over.”

  My heart sped up. “She always wore her seat belt.”

  Mrs. Reynolds shook her head. “I know. I don’t understand it.”

  Mr. Reynolds opened a black umbrella, holding it over his wife’s h
ead to protect her from the drizzle. “The officer said she wouldn’t have hit the windshield had she been wearing it. She most likely wouldn’t have died.”

  The cool rain landing on my forehead kept me anchored in the moment, not spiraling back to that night. I wasn’t that kid anymore. “That’s—” horrible, “I don’t know what to say.”

  “We don’t blame you.”

  “I’m sorry I ever suggested racing home.”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah, I was the one who said let’s see who can get home first—or maybe it was which route was the fastest.” Had I not said the word race? Did it matter?

  “We know you loved her. You wouldn’t have wanted her to be hurt.”

  I shook my head. I never wanted this outcome. Now that I was in love with Callie, I could see my love for Amanda was young and untested. I doubt we would have lasted through college, but I wished she’d had a future. “I’m sorry. I’m going to talk to someone to try and get past it. I’m seeing someone now. She’s pregnant. For me to be there for her, I need closure.”

  “You need to forgive yourself.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Know this—we don’t blame you. She chose not to put her seat belt on that night. She pushed the accelerator when she saw that officer. That’s on her.”

  I swallowed over the lump in my throat. Was it that easy? If I could forgive myself, would the shame and guilt ease over time?

  “You deserve to live your life to the fullest. Amanda would want that.”

  “Thank you.” I sensed they wanted to be alone with her.

  I moved closer, shaking Mr. Reynolds’s hand, patting Mrs. Reynolds’s shoulder. “Thank you for sharing that with me. It helps.”

  “I hope so.”

  I nodded one more time, then moved toward my car. There was nothing left to say. It was time to heal. With each step I took away from Amanda’s tombstone and her parents, I felt lighter. I drove around for a while before I headed to my parents’ house.

  Walking inside, I felt different. The heavy weight of guilt had lifted. I was eager to get back to the city, to Callie. I needed to make things right. I wanted to tell her what happened, why I’d reacted the way I had. There was no excuse for my behavior, but I hoped she’d give me another chance.

  “How’d it go?” Mom asked when I walked into the kitchen.

  “She wasn’t wearing a seat belt.”

  “I wondered about that. How she’d—”

  She couldn’t say it. How Amanda had died from blunt force trauma to her head. Her car was old. It didn’t have airbags, but the seat belt might have prevented her from striking the windshield.

  “I take it you talked to Amanda’s parents?”

  Hearing her name didn’t pierce my heart like it usually did. Coming back and talking to the Reynolds hadn’t made anything worse. It was almost as if I’d filed the car accident, and the experience, into a folder. I could pull it out to examine it if I wanted, but it no longer was at the front of my mind. The pain wasn’t as raw. It was more muted.

  “Yeah. It helped.” I’d never forget the look of pain on their face—pain they’d probably always feel. “I apologized. They said they didn’t blame me. She made poor decisions too. They reminded me that I have a future—one that Amanda would want me to live to the fullest.”

  Mom bobbed her head in agreement. “Blaming yourself doesn’t get you anywhere. All we can do is move on and not make the same mistakes in the future. You do a lot of good with the football program and the charities. You mentor kids.”

  “Maybe it was my way of making up for my mistakes.”

  Mom gave me a pointed look. “It’s good to pay it forward, but I hope you don’t blame yourself anymore.”

  “I think it will be hard to let go of everything, but I want to talk to a therapist, see how I can move past it.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Mom poured some tea from the kettle into a cup, then pushed it toward me. “You need to get back.”

  “Yeah, I have an early flight tomorrow, then practice.” Then I’d talk to Callie. I hoped she’d forgive me.

  “I hope you make things right with Callie. I think she’ll forgive you if you explain everything.”

  I sighed. “I hope so.”

  Mom leaned over, covering my hand with hers. “You have a big heart. She’ll see that.”

  I wanted her to see who I was now, not the boy I was back then. We’d all done things in our past that we weren’t proud of. I’d allowed mine to dictate my future. No more. I’d make myself worthy of Callie and our baby. Even if she didn’t take me back right away, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  Chapter Thirty

  CALLIE

  Dylan stayed over for a couple of days. I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I blamed it on the peanut in my belly. He or she was so tiny, but she was wreaking havoc already.

  I couldn’t tell Dylan what Jonah said. Repeating his words, his rejection out loud made them real. His text gave me a glimmer of hope, but I quickly tapped it down. He’d walked out. He wasn’t here. That’s all that mattered.

  We called out of work on Monday, watching mindless TV while I replayed the scene in my head.

  Was there a better way I could have handled things? Should I have softened the blow? On Wednesday, I sent Dylan home, showered, and went to work. I was grateful for Dylan’s support, but I needed the distraction only work could provide.

  That night, I drove home, exhausted. For the first time, I let myself think about raising this child on my own. Staying in my current apartment wasn’t a good idea. I needed to find something closer to my work. Maybe Dylan would let me rent her old home in Annapolis. Letting myself in, I pulled on comfy lounge pants and an oversized tee, wanting nothing more than to watch mindless TV before I passed out.

  My phone rang with Dylan’s name on the screen.

  “Hey.” I tensed, expecting her to ask how I was doing.

  “You’re never going to believe it!” Her excitement was evident through the phone.

  “What?” I smiled despite how down I’d been the last few days.

  “I was able to get you some help for your grandfather.” She went through the details of the aid I qualified for. It would cover the portion that insurance didn’t.

  “Thank you. I really needed something good.”

  “Happy to help. Have you thought more about what you’re going to do?”

  I knew she meant with the baby—maybe even Jonah, but I wasn’t ready to talk about him yet. “I need to move close to work and my grandfather. Are you thinking of renting out your home in Annapolis?”

  “I was going to rent it out but then was worried I wouldn’t be able to trust anyone with the home. I’d love to have you living there. This is perfect.”

  “Thank you.” The words weren’t enough. Dylan had become a friend—a connection to the area and Reid. I wouldn’t think about her ties to Jonah.

  “I’m happy to help. You’re probably overwhelmed with everything.” She hesitated.

  I knew she wanted to ask about Jonah, but I wasn’t ready to talk about him walking out, or the possibility he didn’t want to be part of our baby’s life. It was one thing to reject me, but another to turn his back on his child. I glanced at the time on the clock, yawning. “I’m getting tired.”

  Using exhaustion from the pregnancy was a good excuse to cut the conversation short.

  “Of course, but Callie, I’m here if you need to talk—about whatever.”

  “I appreciate that.” Gratitude for the people who were present in my life flowed through me, giving me strength.

  I hung up with her, feeling better. I covered my stomach with my hand. Things were coming together. I didn’t need Jonah. I’d be okay on my own.

  If I was accepted into the MBA program, I’d take classes, even if it was one a semester. I’d show this baby that education and hard work were important. You didn’t give up on your dreams because things were hard.

  I turned
on the TV for a few minutes of mindless entertainment, when a knock sounded on the door, making me jump.

  My heart skipped a beat. Was it Jonah? I hadn’t expected to see him so soon when he’d said he’d left town. When the second knock sounded, I stood, wiping my hands on my pants. Opening the door, the sight of him standing in the doorway sent tendrils of pain curling through my body. I wouldn’t survive a repeat of the other night.

  “Jonah.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Can we talk?” His hair was mussed as if he’d run his fingers through it multiple times. His shirt was rumpled. He smelled like an airplane. Had he come here straight from his flight?

  I swallowed, stepping back so he could enter. I deserved an explanation. I was curious about what he’d meant in his text. What did he have to take care of that he needed to go home before he talked to me?

  He closed the door softly. “Callie.”

  My heart skipped a beat, then picked up at the sound of my name on his lips. I sat on the couch, closing my eyes against the pain I saw in his. Why was he hurt?

  “I’m so sorry for the other night. For what I said. For leaving.” His voice cracked.

  The couch dipped as he sat next to me.

  I dropped my head into my hands, squeezing my eyes tighter, knowing if I saw his expression, I’d cave. I’d give in to whatever explanation he fed me. I deserved more than that. Our child deserved more.

  “My reaction was unacceptable.” He sighed as if the memory was too much for him.

  Slowly opening my eyes and lifting my head, I studied him.

  His elbows rested on his thighs, his gaze on my coffee table.

  I wasn’t ready to let go. I held the pain close to my chest. Everyone always left. It was better he go now before I depended on him.

  He glanced at me briefly before averting his gaze. “I have to tell you something, then I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  I remained silent. I wanted to hear what he had to say. I couldn’t imagine there was an excuse for his behavior. Not one that was believable.