Can't Let Go

by Gena Showalter

  He played video games with her, washed her clothes, made the bed and vacuumed the floor. Not once had he complained. The only thing he wouldn't do was talk about the baby. Or have sex with her. She'd tried to seduce him, oh, about a million times, slinking around the apartment wearing little to nothing. The most he'd done was cuddle her while she napped.

  At night, he slept on the floor of her bedroom, refusing to move to the couch in the living room. The sweet man wanted to be close to her. And torture her.

  Some days she wanted to slap him. Other days she wanted to hug him.

  The poor guy was eaten up with fear, but as much as she continued to wish otherwise, she couldn't fight the battle for him.

  When it came time to open the bar, he stuck to her like glue. He hulked around in the shadows, always nearby, glowering at everyone who dared approach her. She'd lost customers, even the regulars who'd once referred to her boyfriend as "our Jude." His attitude stressed everyone out, and tips were becoming nonexistent.

  At this rate, she was going to go broke, and good ole Douche Canoe wasn't going to have to lift a finger.

  Speaking of Dushku, he hadn't made another move against her. Had he given up?

  Had she?

  She missed the heat of Jude's body. The feel of his body. She missed his kiss and his touch. His possession.

  Even now, desire hummed inside her, a siren song. If she didn't experience relief soon, she was going to spontaneously combust.

  "I know that look." Selma set her tray on the bar and leaned on her elbows to perfectly display her cleavage that had kept Ryanne in business, despite Jude's attitude. "You need to get laid, baby girl. See that guy in the wifebeater? I think he's the perfect remedy for what ails you."

  Jude, who stood behind Ryanne, stiffened. "I'm the remedy for what ails her."

  "You're the cause of what ails me." To her mother, she said, "I'll consider it." Consider, and trash.

  A low growl sounded from Jude. Served him right!

  Needing a break, she raised her chin and marched into her office. Time to blow off a little steam--with paperwork.

  As she sat at the desk, Selma rushed inside. When Jude tried to enter, she slammed the door in his face, calling, "We need a little girl time. Go take care of customers. And flirt--I would."

  Mumbling. Footsteps.

  Selma plopped into the only chair in front of the desk. "Talk to me, baby doll. I know you love your man. So why are you giving him such a hard time?"

  "Because." No way she would spill her guts to her mother. She hadn't even talked about it with Dorothea or Lyndie. For good reasons.

  Dorothea might grow to resent Jude for his attitude about the baby. And Lyndie had her own troubles. A few days ago, she'd had a panic attack for the first time in years. Ryanne had rushed to her side as soon as she'd heard, and even though her friend had calmed down, something had changed for and with her. Something was wrong. But pushing for answers had only made her friend worse.

  "Because why?" Selma insisted. "Do you not trust him? Well, let me put your mind at ease. I tried to seduce him, but his reaction was nothing like your old boyfriends." She air quoted both "seduce" and "boyfriends." "You remember those boys?"

  "Are you insane? Of course I remember. And what do you mean, you tried to seduce Jude?" Ryanne could see the headline of tomorrow's paper: Pregnant Girl Murders Her Mother with a Letter Opener!

  "Don't worry. Jude said no, and I've never been so proud. I'm surprised he didn't mention this."

  She wasn't surprised. He'd hoped to save her from unnecessary pain.

  Always protecting me. Unlike my mother, who's never tried to do so.

  "I'd hoped your high school hotties would say no when I told them I'd rock their worlds," Selma continued. "Alas, they found me irresistible, the two-timing bastardos."

  Ryanne gripped the edge of the desk, her white knuckles threatening to pop out of her skin. "I don't care about the past. You came on to Jude?"

  "Aren't you listening? I did, but only as a test. I never would have touched him, just as I never touched the others."

  Wait. "So...you didn't sleep with my boyfriends in high school?"

  "No! Gross!"

  Deep breath in...out...

  She thought back, images playing through her mind. Boyfriend One naked in bed. Selma, wearing a crop top and short skirt, busy tying his wrists to a bedpost. Ryanne had walked in. The boy had shouted while fighting to free himself, and Selma had stood there, calm but sad and also a wee bit satisfied.

  Ryanne had assumed she'd just climaxed and had run off, angry, grossed out and feeling betrayed. Selma had chased her down and said, "I'm sorry, sweetness. But you're so stubborn. I knew you needed to see the truth for yourself."

  She'd scoffed and refused to listen to anything more about it.

  Fast-forward to Boyfriend Two. Once again Selma had worn a crop top and short skirt. She'd stretched out on the living room couch while the guy performed a sexy-not-sexy striptease in front of her.

  Ryanne had walked into the house and her gaze had locked with Selma's. Just like before, her mother had radiated sadness. Only, the satisfaction had been replaced by a hefty dose of...relief?

  That time, Ryanne had stayed put and kicked out the guy. Selma had tossed up her arms and said, "Why do you pick so many losers and force me to do this?"

  "Force you? Ha!" Too clouded by hurt, Ryanne had locked herself in a room and by morning, the subject had been dropped and had never come up again.

  Now realization settled in her chest, a little warm, a little cozy.

  For the first time, Ryanne believed her mother's claims. And okay, yes, the fact that Selma even propositioned her old crushes sucked hard-core, but in the woman's twisted way, she had helped. And having watched her work, Ryanne had noticed something she'd never before noticed: a hidden core of honesty.

  On the other hand, Jude had a very obvious moral compass. He was a good--no, great guy.

  Forget paperwork. She stood on shaky legs, rounded the desk, soared past her mother and entered the bar, where Jude was emptying the last jar of moonshine into a mug.

  He was actually...no way, impossible...but the image remained the same. He was serving alcohol to a patron.

  What the what! He wasn't just protecting Ryanne and her establishment. He was actively participating in the sale of alcohol. For her. Because he cared.

  Beautiful, heart-breaking, heart-mending man. Stick a fork in me, I'm done. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed.

  He turned, his eyes wide with hope. "What brought this on?"

  "I like you." She clasped his hand, lifted and kissed the strawberry etched into his wrist. "A lot."

  The corners of his mouth twitched. "I like you, too, shortcake."

  "Good. Now that that's settled..." She raked her knuckles over the stubble on his jaw before backing up a step. "You keep working. I'll grab another jar of moonshine from the basement."

  He offered no protest as she reached for the door handle concealed among the shelves of liquor. As she moved into the entryway, she tugged the string hanging from the ceiling. Light flooded the dark corridor, illuminating the concrete steps. The lower she went, the cooler and danker the air became. At the bottom, shelves were covered with glass jars. Some of those jars were filled to the brim, others were empty.

  She lifted a full one, but someone latched on to her wrist, stopping her. Jude! The calluses on his palm sent shivers whisking down her spine.

  "I'll carry it," he said. "You shouldn't be lugging heavy objects."

  "I remember a time I had to heft an entire box of moonshine up the basement steps, all on my own. I asked you for help, and you asked me if I was testing you."

  "I was a jackass. Thankfully, you've trained me better."

  "Or you're worried about me because I'm pregnant."

  "That, too."

  "Too bad, so sad. I can handle a single jar."

  "I know you can." His gaze bored into hers, currents of e
lectricity arcing between them. "But I'm here."

  Here...ready to be seduced...

  "You certainly are." With her free hand, she traced her knuckles down his muscled chest, not stopping until she reached the waist of his pants. "How about you put yourself to better use and give me an orgasm? Just a quick one? Then I won't have to take my mom's advice and go after the guy wearing the wifebeater."

  Despite everything, she wanted a future with Jude.

  He sucked in a breath--and stepped closer, pressing her against the wall. "I'll give you an orgasm, nice and slow, if you'll agree we can be married in the morning." Down, down he leaned. He plucked her lower lip between his teeth, nearly singeing her with lust. "All you need to do is say yes, and I'll do the rest."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  HUNGER CLAWED AT Jude's insides. His body trembled with need. Ryanne stood before him, hair a dark, silken cloud that framed her exquisite face. Her rich brown eyes glittered with arousal. Pregnancy had given her olive skin a radiant glow. She wasn't just a part of his life; she was his life.

  Every day his desire for her strengthened.

  Every day his determination to win her intensified.

  Every day, more and more, she became his reason to breathe.

  "Say yes," he whispered, his lips hovering over hers. His arm snaked around her waist, holding her. The hold wasn't gentle, either; it was more of a demand to stay put. "Please, say yes."

  Tremors rocked her against him. "I admit, I kind of want to," she said, "and that's huge for me. I hadn't planned on this, on you, but I think I could get on board with the whole hubby-wifey thing. Maybe. Probably. I've liked having you around, and I certainly do like the idea of you being legally required to wait on me."

  He brightened--

  "But," she added, and his mood darkened. "My answer is no, and it will remain no until you've beaten the fear of losing me and the baby."

  A flash of cold. "What makes you think I fear losing you?"

  "Jude, you follow me everywhere I go. Fear is stress, and stress is bad for your health."

  "Maybe I like watching your ass as you walk."

  "Maybe? Ha! Definitely. But you can't deny you're stressed 24/7."

  No, he couldn't. "I have fears, yes, but so do you."

  "What? Me? No."

  "You're afraid of losing your identity, changing for a man."

  "I...I..." The color in her cheeks drained.

  "Don't try to deny it. It's true. The only difference between us is your fear won't cost me my life. But what if I fail you? What if I can't keep you safe? I'm missing part of my leg and--"

  With a scowl, she gripped his shoulders to shake him. "You are the strongest man I've ever met. And maybe you're right. Maybe I am afraid of losing myself. But either way, I've realized I can take care of myself."

  "I know you can. I don't think I would have let myself risk falling for you otherwise."

  Her eyes widened, becoming windows of amazement. "You've fallen for me? I mean, duh. You've fallen for me, and your heart is filled with rainbows and unicorn tears. It's obvious." She brushed an invisible piece of lint from her shoulder. "But this is the first time you've said the words."

  "Do you need the words?"

  "Do you?" she challenged.

  Perhaps more than he'd ever needed anything. "I do."

  Though she melted against him, she didn't tell him she'd fallen for him, too. She simply tightened her grip on his shoulders, her nails digging into his shirt to ensure he remained in place. As if he would ever leave her side again.

  "Fight the fear," she said, "and you can have me."

  You can have me...

  The hunger inside him rubbed a fork and knife together, ready to feast. "I want you now. Say you'll marry me."

  "I've set my terms. All or nothing."

  Stubborn woman. "I notice begging for forgiveness isn't among those terms. You've exonerated me for everything I've done in the past?"

  "Don't get me wrong. You've messed up big time. Over and over again." As he glowered at her, she added, "But you're the father of my child, and holding a grudge against you would be counterproductive. I mean, I have no idea what to do with a baby. You do. You can help me."

  The words child and baby were becoming easier to hear.

  "How do I fight the fear?" If it were the only obstacle in their way, he would overcome it. He would overcome anything in order to spend his life with this woman.

  She pondered his dilemma, came up blank. "How did you fight fear in the army, when you had to go on dangerous missions?"

  "I focused on the task at hand. Rescue. Kill. Or both. But then, I knew my enemy and my objective. With you, everyone is the enemy. Everything is an accident waiting to happen--waiting to take you from me. My objective is to protect you from everyone and everything."

  She sighed. "Life happens, and in the end, we only regret the chances we didn't take. When worries do rise, don't feed them by running negative scenarios through your head, force yourself to think of something else. Something good. Like how I might reward you for your bravery..."

  "I like the sound of that." He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers. "I'll talk to Daniel, too. Maybe he has a few secrets." Having lost his mom as a boy, and watched multiple friends and soldiers die from explosions, enemy gunfire and even friendly fire, the man had once suffered similar fears. For a future with Dorothea, he'd somehow overcome.

  "Baby girl." Selma's voice echoed through the cellar. "You might want to come up. Someone's here to see you and your pretty boy. I put her in your office. Oh, and you might want to hurry, because she looks like the five-fingered discount type."

  Pretty boy?

  "Coming," Ryanne called.

  Not yet, but she would be. "I'll figure out how to beat my fears," he whispered to her, "and then you'll be mine." He kissed her, a brutal meeting of lips. A brief meeting of lips, far too brief, before he took her hand in his to lead her upstairs.

  Her panting breaths made him smile--and groan. He wasn't sure he would survive another night sleeping on the floor.

  Up top, Jude entered the office first, a hand on the gun sheathed at his waist. He drew up short.

  Savannah. Savannah and a dark-haired little boy. Thomas.

  The blonde was ashen as she paced in front of the desk. Her son watched her from a desk chair, spinning, spinning.

  "Savannah," Ryanne gasped out, rushing around him. "What happened? What's wrong?"

  Savannah wrung her hands. "Only everything."

  "Who the hell are you?" the boy demanded with a royal tone, as if the world existed for his delight.

  A groan from Savannah. "Thomas, please. Hell isn't a nice word. Okay?"

  "You're not the boss of me." The boy spit at her, and she cringed. "Hell, hell, hell."

  "I'm sorry," she said to Jude. "I should have gone with you, but I wasn't sure I could trust you. I've just... I've been through so much and decided to pay a customer to get me out of town. He claimed to love me, but he only wanted... Anyway, Martin's been on my trail and almost caught me." Chewing on her bottom lip, she stepped closer and whispered, "He wants to punish me, kill me, and keep Thomas for himself. I didn't know where else to go."

  "You can stay here, with us," Ryanne told her. "I know you'll be close to Dushku, and that isn't ideal, but our security is top notch."

  Savannah's presence would endanger Ryanne and the baby.

  Already endangered. True, but this would give Dushku another reason to attack.

  Jude's pulse raced, and his chest burned. The fear he was supposed to fight overtook him, and he knew he'd just failed a very big test. But here and now, he didn't care. He wouldn't negotiate or second-guess his instincts when it came to Ryanne's safety.

  "She can stay at the cabin with Brock," he said. "Security is just as tight there, and she won't be exposed to customers coming in and out, or be seen by people at Dushku's work site."

  As he spoke, Savannah nodded. "Yes. The cabin. We'll stay the
re."

  Ryanne surprised him when she, too, nodded.

  He must have gaped at her, because she said, "What? I know a better plan when I hear it."

  Not kissing her proved impossible. A warm blush stormed her cheeks as he pressed his mouth against hers, lingered for a moment, only a moment. Savannah watched with raw envy in her eyes, and Thomas pretended to gag.

  "I'll get Brock, and we'll head out the back way." He strode from the office, holding on to Ryanne's hand until the last possible second before stalking through the club to find his friend.

  Brock sat at a table in back, shrouded by shadows. Empty beer bottles littered his table. He'd stopped shaving his head, the strands now sticking out in spikes as a woman combed her fingers through. His eyes were bloodshot, and there was no sign of his usual smile.

  Jude knew he'd heard from his parents early this morning. The pair had a way of blackening his mood. Not exactly a shock. They referred to him as a disappointment, and pushed him to return and take over the family business.

  At the moment, he was busy glaring at the bar...at Lyndie, who sat with Dorothea and Daniel, laughing as Selma mixed drinks.

  Daniel and I aren't the only ones battling fear.

  When a man approached Lyndie, Brock jumped to his feet, the woman on his lap forced to straighten or fall.

  Jude swooped in, apologizing on his friend's behalf before sending her on her way. "Need your help," he said to Brock.

  Without hesitation, his friend focused on him. "Of course."

  On the way to the office, he explained what had transpired. In seconds, Brock transformed from moody civilian to fierce soldier. A man capable of any dark deed. Jude had witnessed the transformation a thousand times, and it was one of the reasons he'd gravitated toward the male during training. Like called to like.

  Savannah had Thomas in her arms, resting on her hip. Ryanne was the one pacing now.

  "Savannah, this is Brock. Brock, Savannah."

  Thomas stared at Brock with eyes as wide as saucers. "You're big."

  "I eat lots of broccoli," Brock muttered.

  "Stay here," Jude said to Ryanne. Daniel would watch over her.

  "Nope. No way." She shook her head, dark hair caressing her cheeks. "I'm going with you."

  What would Earl do?

  Though Jude wanted to argue with her, he decided to shut his stupid mouth and let Ryanne do what she thought was best--fighting fear, trusting the mother of his child.