Reckless at Heart (The Kincaids of Pine Harbour Book 1)

by Zoe York

  “You don’t think? With a question mark on it?”

  How could his mouth be bone dry and his hands slick with sweat at the same time? “No question mark.”

  “This cannot be a thing you do to get a girl back.”

  “I know that. It’s not.”

  Adam looked skeptical. One day, he would realize everything he’d prioritized in life was ass-backwards, and it might be a woman who unlocked that epiphany for him—but if it stuck, it would be a product of his own mind.

  At least, that’s how this was playing out for Owen.

  He wasn’t changing his mind for Kerry, but he might be changing it because of her. Because of how she looked at Charlie, how she looked with Charlie in her arms absolutely. Maybe that was the moment his subconscious had started a drumbeat of its own. Raise more kids. Raise them with this woman. Fill her arms with children, as many as she can hold. He hadn’t been listening. A decade ago, and probably even years before that, he’d made a decision to protect himself, because his life had been hard and he’d been all alone.

  There was nothing harder than middle-of-the-night parenting. At every age, it was the hardest, and loneliest. But on either side of those struggles were moments of absolute joy, and Owen wanted that again.

  If Kerry didn’t want him anymore, he would accept that. But she didn’t have all the facts. “I need to talk to her about this, but I wanted to say it out loud first. And also figure out how to have that conversation with her in a way that doesn’t make any false promises.”

  “Don’t be halfway,” Adam said. “If you go to her with something like that, you gotta be all in. Are you?”

  Owen nodded. “All the way. I love her.”

  “Then what can we do to help?”

  He had a half-baked idea, and he needed it to be fully baked as soon as possible. “We need Will—or at least the keys to his school.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Owen felt like a stalker as he cruised by the community centre the next evening, but he wanted to make sure Kerry wasn’t at home. Sure enough, he spotted her car. Adam’s intel that she had indoor soccer practice was accurate.

  Which meant the coast was clear for him to drop off the first part of his surprise at her apartment.

  He looped back to the main drag, pulled into the lot behind her building, and quickly climbed the stairs. She didn’t have a mailbox, but he’d come prepared with a roll of tape. He carefully fixed the envelope to her door.

  That was as far as good luck got him, because as he descended the stairs, headlights lit up the parking lot. He recognized the car. Damn it. She was home early from practice.

  He might as well face the music. He leaned against the railing and watched as she got out, her white parka bright in the darkness. She climbed the stairs slowly, her gaze locked on his face the whole time, and stopped in front of him.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

  “What are you…?”

  “I was trying to be stealthy and leave you a note while you were at practice.”

  Her eyebrows curved high. “Keeping track of my schedule?”

  “Trying to stay out of your way,” he clarified. “I really want to get this right.”

  “What is this, exactly?”

  “There are things I want to say. If you want to hear them. I have a seven-step plan to carefully communicate those things.”

  “Seven steps?” Her voice tightened. “Owen…”

  “Read the note. Think about it, please. If you’re open to listening to me, let me know.”

  There was a long pause as she looked toward the stairs. Owen rocked back and forth on his heels. She had to be freezing.

  “Go inside,” he said in a rush. “It’s cold tonight. Think about it, okay?”

  She lifted her head again, her chin jutting and her eyes bright. “This is a bad idea.”

  “It might be, but I’ve done a lot of thinking, and realized some things. Big things.”

  “Don’t make me promises,” she whispered. “That’s not what I’m looking for.”

  He shook his head. “That’s not why I’m here.” She shivered, and he took a step closer. “Please. Go inside.”

  She craned her neck, but didn’t move.

  He took a step toward the parking lot, then another. “Go on, read it,” he said. “I’m gonna go stand by my truck. I’ll stay there in case you want to throw something heavy at me.”

  Her lips twitched.

  It had always been the humour between them. If he could make her laugh, it might just get him enough of an opening to show her why she could trust him.

  He turned to face his truck, and from behind him, he heard her climb the stairs. He waited until the footsteps ended, then he turned again. He couldn’t see her on the balcony, but he heard her door swing open and saw the interior light flip on.

  She didn’t shut the door.

  He pictured her reading the note, which he’d memorized.

  Kerry,

  I didn’t know what I wanted when I met you. I knew, but couldn’t say, how I felt when I lost you. And losing you made me realize what I value most in the world. Now I want a chance to tell you what I couldn’t before.

  Please let me explain.

  Owen

  In the space of time it took him to hear it again in his head, her door stayed open, warmth and light spilling out into the darkness. He braced himself for a slam, or a silent close and an end to that warm light, but neither came.

  Finally her head appeared at the balcony’s edge. She didn’t say anything. She also didn’t throw anything, which was an excellent sign.

  He rolled the dice.

  “I love you.” It felt good to say out loud. Scary. He’d thought about putting it in the note, but he wanted her to first hear it in his own voice. He knew it might not be enough. Because she already knew he loved her. She’d seen it. In hindsight, he could see it, too. He’d shown it to her before he even realized it himself. But it hadn’t been enough. He lifted his voice again. He didn’t care who heard him. “I hurt you. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I’m sorry.”

  “That’s what I said to Lore,” she said, her voice drifting down to him. “I told her that I hurt you and I needed to make it better.”

  He couldn’t do this from a distance. Taking the stairs two at a time, he stopped just short of her landing. “You didn’t.”

  “Owen…”

  He shook his head. “Please don’t. I was living deep in denial, and that wasn’t fair to either of us. But you did not hurt me. I should have said it all a lot sooner, but to be honest, some of it I didn’t really understand until very recently.”

  “How recently?” Her voice shook, and he couldn’t get a read on her face in the shadows.

  “Yesterday.”

  She laughed weakly. “That’s recent.”

  He rolled the dice again. “Can we go inside? Just for a minute?” It was selfish. He wanted to see her face again.

  Her exhale was long, audible, and shaky. But then she nodded. Heart pounding, he followed her into her apartment. Every moment was amplified. The click of her door closing behind him, the way her hands shook as she took off her parka and boots. The pause when she straightened up, squared her shoulders, then gave him a look that was equal parts terror and bravery. “Do you want tea?”

  He wanted anything she would give him. “Sure. Or a glass of water? Water would be fine. I’m fine, actually.”

  She hesitated, then went to the kitchen. He heard the water run and closed his eyes. Get a grip.

  When she came back to the door, she was holding two glasses. “You might as well take your stuff off.”

  He hurried out of his winter gear and followed her to the other end of the apartment, where her sparely decorated living room set-up was. She perched on the padded ottoman, clearly leaving the couch for him.

  Owen sank into it and gathered his thoughts. “When you said, love makes us do stupid things, that hit me hard.” He paused,
because this was so important. “I want you to love me because I’m right for you, not despite the fact that I’m wrong for you. I have a lot still to say, but I want you to know that I’m not asking for a compromise.

  “I was twenty-one when my dad died. My mom needed me. I had Becca, and Rachel and I were still working out co-parenting, but suddenly there were four younger brothers to take care of, too. My mom never recovered from losing Dad. Six months later, she was gone, too. It was a stroke, they said, but I’ve always thought that she really died of his heart attack. I don’t know if that makes sense.

  “And suddenly I had a toddler, two teenagers who saw themselves as my equals—and fuck, I was barely out of being a teenager myself. A complete fuck-up on so many levels, barely working part-time as a relief paramedic, supporting everyone with the job that killed my father. Somewhere in there, I came to resent my brothers.” That was hard to say out loud. “I got the vasectomy when Adam was in his last year of high school. I don’t think about it. And I don’t mean that to be glib, I mean, I buried that shit. I don’t look at it. Becca’s teen years were hard, too. It’s all hard, and for a long time, that was all I could see.”

  Kerry’s eyes were wet. Her cheeks were, too. Silent tears. He’d gone off the rails a bit there. He hadn’t planned on telling her all of that, not up front. But he wanted her to know everything, even the darkest parts he hadn’t properly admitted to himself yet.

  “I regret it.” That was even harder to say. “I regret not trying harder with Rachel, I regret not being happier when she moved on. I regret not following her example and finding love again on my own sooner. I regret the bitterness, and the anger at my brothers. I regret not being happier when Becca told me she was pregnant. The only thing I don’t regret in all of this is waiting for you. You are perfect, and I went and fucked that up, too.

  “When you told me you knew you wanted to have children, and you knew I wasn’t the guy for that, I should have had an epiphany in that moment. I am deeply sorry that I didn’t. I’m sorry it took me weeks to sort out my feelings.”

  Owen knew he should pause and check in with Kerry, but he’d opened the flood gates and he couldn’t stop.

  “I know better than most that no one should have a baby for the wrong reasons. But I also know that sometimes life throws a wrench in the best laid plans and it’s the greatest gift ever. Do I regret becoming a dad at eighteen? Sure, on some level, and I never dealt with that feeling of being conflicted. Do I regret Becca? Never. She’s made me a better person more times than I can count. And then she had Charlie, and that humbled me all over again, right when I was ready to be selfish.”

  “It’s not selfish, though,” Kerry whispered. “What you want, that life…that’s perfectly normal. I don’t want to get in the way of you having your independence.”

  “God damn it, please do. I’ve had a taste of that, and it turns out, I don’t like being lonely. More to the point, I’ve had a taste of loving you, laughing with you, being with you, and it’s the best thing in the world.

  “I spent a long time being afraid. Having a big family is stressful. A young family is stressful. But you know what else I’ve learned? Being alone is stressful. It’s not the make up of the family that’s the problem. I don’t want to be driven by fear anymore.”

  “Oh…”

  He swayed toward her, wanting so much to draw her into his arms. But he kept going, because this was the most important part. “Making more of a family with you would be a gift, not a burden.”

  “I—” She stopped. And then she burst into tears.

  “No, no, no,” he murmured.

  Her fists clenched tight in her lap, her knuckles turning white. Her nostrils flared as she struggled to control herself.

  “It’s okay.” Helpless, he moved off the couch and knelt in front of her. “Let it out.”

  “I’m scared, too,” she finally admitted. “I had this narrative in my head. We would be a fling, we would have an end point, because we wanted different things in life. And that was safe. Even though it hurt.”

  “Give me a chance to show you what I should have shown you the first time. That I’m the guy you can trust to hold your hand when you get scared.”

  “I don’t know how.” Her voice hitched.

  “We’ll figure it out together. I didn’t know what I wanted in life until you walked into it. So I’ve got some baggage I’m carrying around, these rules I made for myself, but they don’t make me happy. You make me happy. I’m willing to do the hard work to figure out the rest of it.” He held out his hand. “Give me a chance.”

  Time stood still.

  Then she slowly slid her fingers over his and gave his hand a tentative squeeze.

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” he whispered. “It’s okay to be scared.”

  She nodded.

  “I love you,” he repeated. It felt damn good to say.

  She nodded again, and he smiled. Her lips worked their way into a delicate smile. “I love you, too.”

  The world’s most beautiful four words.

  She slid into his lap and he embraced her as tight as he could. He held her until her breathing softened, slowed, and then he kissed her.

  It was like taking a first big gulp of air after being under water. Two weeks without oxygen, and now his soul was full again. Her lips tangled with his, her tongue darting out to welcome his. He deepened the kiss, hungry for more of her sweet, warm, sunshine-y taste. She gobbled him up in the same way, her hands finding his face. Holding on.

  It took them a while to get their fill of each other.

  As she gazed at him, her eyes glowed almost golden with unshed feelings. “It was so hard to be apart from you, and I couldn’t make sense of it. I thought I could just grieve and move on, but I couldn’t. I was in denial, too.”

  “Maybe we were both afraid of getting this close to someone, for different reasons.”

  “But you aren’t now?”

  “No.”

  She screwed up her face. “I still am.”

  “That’s okay. I’m never going to break your heart again.”

  “You didn’t. I did that to myself because I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud that I wanted to make babies with you. I told myself that wasn’t on the table, and still dove headlong into wanting what I couldn’t have.”

  “You can have it.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and held her still when she tried to duck her face into his neck. “Kerry, if you want kids, I want to have kids with you. I can be alone when I’m dead. I’ll get the vasectomy reversed. They do that. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll find the best quality donor sperm your uterus could ever imagine.”

  “Owen!”

  “Only the best for you.”

  “You’re the best for me,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  He let her fall onto him then, to hug him tight until there was no space between their bodies. He kissed the top of her head. “I have to tell you about yesterday.”

  “What happened?” The question was muffled against his skin, but he got the gist.

  “I introduced Charlie to an old friend of my dad’s. It had been years since he’d seen Becca, too. And then Charlie gave me a slimy high-five to the face…” He smiled. “And I just started thinking about all the wonderful parts of raising a little person. And then a not-so-little person. My brothers…they’re such good guys now. And I couldn’t be prouder of Becca. I did okay. But I’ll do better next time.”

  “You did great the first time.” She took a deep breath. “And you will the next time?”

  He laughed gently, deeply, at the disbelief and wonder she poured into that question. There was no question about it, though.

  He brushed his fingertips over the flutter at the base of her throat. “Let me take that question mark away. Let me make love to you.”

  She trembled.

  “Does that scare you?” He kissed the delicate skin he had just caressed.

  �
�You’re so much better at this than I am.” She licked her lips. “Lore said she thought of me as the love ’em and leave ’em type.”

  Owen shook his head gently. “You’re not.”

  “I don’t want to be. Not with you.”

  He caught her hand and brought it to his chest so she could feel his heartbeat. “Feel that?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m sure.”

  With a breathy inhale, she leaned in and kissed him. “What do you want?”

  “Make love to me.”

  Her eyes sparked. “Take that question mark away…”

  “Yeah. You get the idea.”

  “It’s a good one.” She licked her lips and hooked her fingertips into his waistband. “This is real.”

  “It’s love.”

  “Yes.”

  “So make love to me. You’ve already done it once.”

  “Owen,” she whispered.

  He’d figured this out, somewhere in the middle of their conversation. Hell, she’d made love to him many times over. But that last time, when the condom broke…he’d been indifferent, and she’d been so desperate to protect his feelings and make him feel safe, to reassure him that the way she’d clung to him wouldn’t have any forever consequences.

  And then so hurt when he’d shrugged it off, because he knew it wouldn’t.

  Making love wasn’t always about making babies. But for Kerry, maybe there was a bit of that tangled up in it, a future potential, and he’d crushed it by being a callous goon.

  He wouldn’t be callous again. “That last time together, I think it felt like making love for you. And I seemed like I wasn’t there. Not in the same way. But I am. I want to be laid bare for you, in every way.”

  She slid off his lap and stood on shaky legs beside him. He leaned in and pressed his head to her spandex-clad thigh.

  “Come with me,” she said softly. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tugged.

  His heart jolted and he scrambled to his feet. He had more than a foot on her in height, but standing there together in her living room, with the shattered fragments of their fears all around them, he felt as small and vulnerable as she looked.