Chapter 9

9

Riley

Lucy had spent her entire pregnancy in fear… though, she liked to call it “ superstition .” She often declared that the sooner she prepared for Katie, the higher the chances were that something could go wrong.

She was two weeks out from her due date when Amanda and I, as gently as possible, convinced her to get the necessities. Car seat, crib, bottles, diapers, clothes, etc. We drove an hour out of town to a place where we could get everything all at once.

We spent ten minutes in the store.

Lucy barely looked at what she was buying, just pointed to products after checking their safety rating and told the clerk to “wrap it up.”

I didn’t understand her fear then.

I get it now.

The only thing she allowed to happen earlier was Cam painting the mural for the baby’s bedroom. She told us he’d work on it for hours at a time whenever he got inspired. He wanted it to be perfect for her.

For both of them.

None of us knew what the mural was until the day she went into labor. Logan had a spare key to the cabin, so he used it to let us all in. It was during the MLB offseason, so Jake and Micky just happened to be home. I called Heidi, but she was overseas at the time. She promised to come back the first chance she got.

We wanted to make sure Cam and Lucy had everything they needed when they got home. We had planned to make food and freeze it, clean whatever needed cleaning, just help in any way we could. When we entered, we noticed the car seat, still in its box, in the middle of the living room. Same with all the furniture Lucy had purchased. She hadn’t even unpacked them, let alone assembled them. Our first instinct was to do it for them, but we all knew about Lucy’s “superstition.”

Jake called Cameron, who was incredibly relieved we were there, but also told him that Lucy asked us to wait until she was holding their healthy baby girl in her arms. So that’s what we did. On whatever surface of the living room we could occupy, we waited. And waited. And waited. For fifteen hours. None of us slept. We couldn’t even if we wanted to. And when Cameron finally video called us to show a perfect little Katie in her mother’s arms, we were so elated. And relieved. And then we got to work.

Since Lucy had to have an emergency cesarean, she wouldn’t be home for days, which gave us time. We worked on making the food first, just in case Cameron ducked home for a break. A few hours after we got the call from Cameron, all six of Lucy’s brothers, along with her dad, showed up at the cabin. They were there for the same reason. Only, they had brought furniture with them. Lucy’s brothers had surprised them with a handcrafted crib for their baby niece—the most perfect piece of furniture I’d ever seen. It matched the rocking chair that Lucy’s mother had used with all seven of them.

“Have you seen it yet?” Lachlan, the youngest Preston, had asked.

“Seen what?” Jake answered.

“The mural? None of us have seen it.”

It was only then that we all remembered Cam’s secret project. We rushed to Katie’s room, and I can’t even recall who got there first to open the door, but as soon as we saw it, we all gasped. It was, by far, the most brilliant painting Cameron had ever created. In fact, it’s the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever laid eyes on.

And as I stare at it now, leaning against the opposite wall, I imagine Cameron standing here, in an empty room, with a blank canvas, his mind and creativity at work. I picture every delicate brushstroke that makes up all the leaves of the trees in the enchanted forest. I wonder how he selected all the different pastel pinks and purples used for the sky and if he drew the deer from memory or had to work off an image. And I wonder if Lucy told him exactly which physical pages from her favorite fairy tales to incorporate into the masterpiece.

I wonder if he felt as afraid as Lucy did.

As afraid as I have felt.

The bedroom door opens, bringing more light into the lamp-lit room. Lucy steps in, closing the door behind her. She tilts her head, eyes soft as they scrutinize mine. “Hey…” Her smile is weak, questioning. “What are you doing in here?”

“Sorry,” I say—an automatic response. “I used the bathroom and walked past, and I… I was just admiring her room, I guess.”

“Yeah, we’re definitely going to miss it.”

I nod, pushing off the wall and taking the few steps across the room. I lean in close, gaze focused, finger brushing along the raised paint on a single flower.

“We’re taking this entire wall with us,” she tells me. “Studs and all, so it doesn’t get damaged. I love it too much to let it go.” She pauses a beat, then adds, “My brothers are making a frame for it, and we’ll put it up in her new room. It’s almost three times the size, so…”

I nod again, taking in her words but not knowing how to respond.

The crib is gone now, Katie having outgrown it, and it’s replaced with a low-lying house-framed bed that Lucy’s brothers also built. There’s fake ivy wrapped around the posts and sheer white curtains draped over the top, creating a roof. The entire space is just… beautiful. I rub the fabric between my fingers, saying, “She’s really lucky to have you as parents, Luce.”

“I hope so,” she replies, her voice just above a whisper. Seconds pass, neither of us speaking. The longer we stay that way, the harder it is to fight back my emotions. Suddenly, Lucy’s hand lands on my shoulder, and as gently as possible, she forces me to face her.

She’s nothing but a blur through my tear-filled eyes and, somehow, without me saying a word, I can tell she knows.

“I’m so sorry, Riley,” she says, bringing me in for an embrace. I swallow down the sob that’s begging to escape. She doesn’t speak as she sits on the bed, her back against the wall, patting the spot beside her. I do as she asks and let her take my hand, link our fingers together.

When she’s this close, I can smell the alcohol on her breath and emitting from her pores. Or maybe I just want to.

Need pulses through my veins, just once. Just enough to tease, to let me know it’s there.

For a long moment, Luce and I simply stare at the work of art in front of us.

She’s the first to break the silence. “I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it to you, or if Dylan’s ever told you, but Katie wasn’t our first pregnancy.”

I turn to her. “She’s not?”

Lucy shakes her head, her eyes downcast. “We were in college… on a stupid break , when I found out.” She hiccups—soft and high-pitched. “The worst part is that I lost her before I even knew she was there. There were a lot of medical complications, before and after, and… Katie, she was never meant to be here. The doctors told me so themselves.” She swallows her emotions while I release mine in the form of tears. “I’m not telling you this as some sort of advice for you to keep trying or not lose hope. Cameron and I—we had come to terms with the idea that we’d never have children, so Katie really is a miracle baby. But not everyone is as lucky as us. And that’s all it was with us. Luck . And everyone’s journey, everyone’s loss , is different, and you cope with it however you need to. I’m just telling you because I want you to know that if you need anything , at any time, you call me and I’m there.”

I sniff back my heartache and roll my head against the wall, settle my head on her shoulder—a simple sign to show my appreciation. “What did you do?” I ask. “I mean, how did you handle it?”

It takes a moment for her to answer. “The first thing I did was push away the people closest to me, including Cameron.”

I sigh, picking at a worn spot on my jeans just for something else to focus on. “That reaction must be human nature, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy murmurs. “Why? What was the first thing you did?”

“The first time?—”

“Shit, Riley,” she interrupts. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I assure, squeezing her hand. “The first time was a surprise. Initially, we were more afraid than elated, but the more we grasped onto the idea, the more excited we became. It was only a week after the positive test that we… It was devastating .” It’s the first time I’ve told the story out loud and not just let the emotions of the experience infiltrate my mind. It’s a lot easier than I thought it would be, and maybe that’s because Lucy’s the one comforting me, or maybe it’s because she’s not as close to the situation as Dylan is. Or as my mom will be. “The second time, we actually tried to get pregnant, and… and that one didn’t last long either. It only happened a few weeks ago?—”

“That recent?” Lucy cuts in.

“Yeah.” But that’s not even the worst part. “I started bleeding at the shop, but I didn’t have the courage to tell Dylan. So, I made an excuse to leave work early, and umm…” I wipe at my tears, now flowing fast and free, and try to breathe through the pain of my admission. “I drove straight to the store and bought two bottles of wine.”

Lucy rears back, and I can feel her eyes on me when she asks, “Did you?”

A sob accompanies my head nod. “Dylan came home when I was halfway through one. He emptied it in the sink right away, and I… I brought out the other bottle just before we came here. I didn’t have any, but sometimes the hurt is too much, and I… I don’t know if I actually want to, or if I want to test myself, or if… if maybe I just want the pain of something else to replace this one.”

“And you’ve been hiding these feelings from Dylan?”

It’s not a question that needs an answer. She already knows because she did it, too. She pushed away the people closest to her. “I don’t think Dylan’s dealing with it too well, either. And I think we’re both struggling to communicate our emotions.”

Light fills the room when the bedroom door opens. Dylan stands in the doorway, his eyes immediately finding mine. “I was looking for…” he trails off when he notices the state of me. Then he looks around the room, from the wall, to the toys, then back to me, putting two and two together.

I wipe the evidence of my heartbreak off my cheeks.

“Riley…” he sighs.

Lucy releases my hand, hugging me before getting off the bed. “Any time. Anywhere,” she offers, and then she’s gone, closing the door after her.

Without a word, Dylan replaces her spot beside me.

He doesn’t speak right away, which is good, because it gives me the time I need to say everything I’ve been feeling. “I’m sorry for pushing you away,” I start. “In my mind… it’s almost like if I don’t acknowledge it, then it never happened, and I don’t think that’s the best way to deal with it.”

“Is that all you’re sorry for?” he asks, and it’s not accusatory. It’s purely questioning. “Because you keep apologizing to me, and I don’t know why. Do you believe it’s your fault? That you made it happen?”

I can’t contain my sob when I nod, when I finally admit the most painful truth of them all.

“Riley,” he murmurs, holding me to him.

I cry into his chest, let it all out. “It’s not just with the pregnancies, but the alcohol, too. I disappointed you.”

He pulls away, placing his hand on my jaw, forcing me to look at him. Eyes searching mine, he asks, “Is that how you’ve been feeling?”

I nod again. “It’s so hard to be around you, because I’m so ashamed.”

“Baby…” He releases me, shaking his head, more to himself than to me. “I’m sorry you’ve felt that way and that I didn’t pick up on it. I’ve been so in my head about how I can make things better, that I didn’t even realize. You could never disappoint me, Riley. Never. So you relapsed. It happens. That doesn’t change anything. And it sure as hell doesn’t take away from all the hard work you put into staying sober for years. ”

I listen to his words, let each one of them sink in and make a home for themselves in my heart, right where he lives.

Dylan rests against the wall again, his eyes unfocused as he stares ahead. “Listen, I could happily spend the rest of my life with just the two of us. I don’t need us to have kids to feel fulfilled, but… we should talk about it, and if we decide that we still want to have children, then we have options,” he says, his voice low. “I found a clinic not far from here that specializes in this kind of stuff. Maybe they can give us some answers. And if having a child naturally isn’t in the cards for us, we can go a different route.” He lowers his head as he continues. “I was going to ask you first… about talking to Logan, seeing if he or his dad can recommend someone to help us. And then maybe Amanda knows someone we can talk to… together … if that’s something you think might help.”

It’s the first time he’s spoken about all of this, and maybe that’s on me. Maybe he didn’t feel like he could share his thoughts with me.

A sudden knot forms in my throat, and I’m quick to swallow it down as I watch him work through his emotions. Right now, I see the child version of him I wanted so badly, but more than that, I see his pain. His need to fix things. I’m reminded of the man he became when he knew he was being deployed. How he made sure to take care of everything, so I never had to worry about a single thing while he was gone. He repaired everything in our new house, made sure our finances were in order, and had his friends and family check in on me. He took care of every single aspect of our lives. He took care of me . Because every task, every decision he’s ever made, has been for me.

I hold his face in my hands now, my eyes right on his. Flashbacks of the night before his deployment play havoc in my mind. I had shaved his head in preparation, and for the first time since we got together, I saw the fear in his eyes.

Not for himself.

But for me.

There’s never been a time when I haven’t been his top priority.

All he wants is to protect me from harm. From hurt.

When I’m good, he thrives. But when I’m not… he spirals.

“I promise, from here on out, whichever route we go, we go there together.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod. “Talk to Logan.” Then I smile for what feels like the first time in forever. “Because I really want a little you running around.”

“A little me?” His lips kick up at the corners as he picks me up, settles me over his lap. “A little me…” he repeats. “Yeah. I do like a challenge.”

“What? You don’t think a little me would be challenging?”

“Nah,” he says. “That would be a joy. But a little shit like me…”

I giggle, blocked off by his lips when he kisses me. “I’ve missed that sound,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I’ve missed it, too,” I say, running my tongue along the seam of his lips. He parts his mouth, giving me access, and I deepen the kiss just enough to light a fire inside me.

He pulls back, clearing his throat. “It would be highly inappropriate to fuck you in this room, wouldn’t it?”

I don’t get a chance to respond, because Lucy yelling has us both looking toward the closed door. “Oh, no. What now?” I laugh out.

Dylan taps my leg, the sign for me to get up. He takes my hand as soon as we’re both upright. “To be continued?”

“As soon as we get home.”

“Can we leave now?”

I hug his arm to my chest while he opens the door, amplifying Lucy’s voice. “Give it, you bitch!”

“Get him, baby!” Cam yells.

We turn the corner into the living room and stop in our tracks. Logan’s sitting on the couch, where he’s been most of the night, and Lucy is sitting on his shoulders , trying to grab the beer that he refuses to let go of. The rest of them are sitting on the floor, a smorgasbord of food that Heidi brought spread out between them.

Lucy almost falls when Logan ducks forward, holding the beer out in front of him. “Let me just finish it!”

“No!” Lucy yells. “She’ll be out soon!”

It takes a second for me to realize what’s happening, and I’m quick to step forward. “Luce, it’s okay,” I assure, and everyone freezes, all eyes landing on me. Besides Cam, who’s too busy using his hands to shovel mac and cheese directly from the baking tray into his mouth.

Logan clears his throat, looking guilty, even though he has no reason to. “No,” he says, offering the beer to Lucy. “I don’t need it. It’s fine.”

“No, really,” I promise. “I want you to drink.”

“Fuck that,” Lucy growls. “And fuck you!” She slaps the top of Logan’s head. “Give me the fucking beer.”

Dylan chuckles at their antics while Logan drinks as much as he can before Lucy finally manages to take it from him. The contents spill when it leaves his lips, soaking his shirt, then his lap, and then Lucy pours the rest directly over his head.

The room erupts with laughter while Logan just shakes his head, runs a hand over his face, then licks his fingers.

“You’re going to need to get that couch steam cleaned,” Jake says.

“Nah,” Cam replies around a mouthful of food. “We’re leaving it here. It’s the twins’ problem now.”

“Seriously, you guys. I want you to drink,” I whine, taking Dylan’s hand again. “I have my strength right here.”

“Aww,” Lucy coos.

“Only if you’re sure,” Logan pushes.

“I appreciate you all so much, but yes, I’m sure.”

Lucy hands him a fresh beer, just as there’s a knock on the door.

No one makes a move to answer it. We just stare at it, confused.

“Are you expecting someone?” Dylan finally asks.

“Who even knocks here?” Jake chimes in.

Another knock, and this time, Dylan opens the door. “Roman!”

I gasp, greet him the same way. “Roman!”

“Roman!” everyone cheers. Everyone but Heidi. I don’t think they’ve seen each other recently.

Roman steps inside, his eyes immediately taking in the state of the room and everyone in it. Cam throws a handful of mac and cheese at Logan’s face, distracting him long enough to give Dylan the opportunity to hand Roman an egg that was hidden in a shoe. “For Logan,” he says, his voice low enough only Roman can hear.

“Huh?” Roman asks, confused, as he should be.

“Roman!” Lucy squeals, making her way toward us with her arms wide open.

Roman hugs her, saying, “I like your outfit. Are you supposed to be a Christmas tree?”

Lucy gasps, her eyes wide when she pulls away. “Decorate me!”

Roman follows her to the tree, where he puts Katie’s present beneath it. The other girls are quick to get up and help Lucy remove baubles and tinsel from the tree and put them on her. Roman walks past Logan, drops the egg on his head, grimacing. “I’m sorry, man.”

Logan just shakes his head. “I don’t even care anymore.”

Roman stands in the middle of the room, surveying the mayhem of his surroundings before sniffing the air. “Um… is something burning?”

Dylan squeals. Actually squeals . “My cookies!” Then flails his arms as he rushes toward the kitchen. We all laugh as we watch him open the oven door, just to be greeted with a plume of smoke.

I take Roman’s arm, lead him to the couch. “Have you met everyone here?”

He pushes up the sleeves of his sweatshirt, revealing his tattoos. “I think so.”

“So… how was your Christmas?”