37. Fallon

Fallon

At the feeling of being in Brett's arms, my entire body reacts.

It's impossible, and inappropriate, given what's going on, and where we're at, but it's like my body wants to reach out and hold onto the first distraction it can find.

After all the worry and heartache of the last twenty-four hours, seeing Brett, and being with him, is refreshing. Rejuvenating.

Brett is in love with me . And I'm in love with him.

As much as it hurt when I saw that he'd gotten into a fight with his brother, him being here now shows that he's not like my mom—he's just a person who made a mistake. And I'm a person so used to one mistake turning into a lifetime of hurt.

But he's here. When he knew I needed him, he came.

Our mouths move together, tongues sliding against one another, and it's a strange mix of sensual and sweet, his body molding to mind, his hand pressing into my lower back. I yearn and yearn and yearn for him, and this kiss is soft because it's coming on the heels of his confession, but hot because it's like a promise.

In the squeeze of his hand, I can hear him saying later and whenever you want me . And I fully intend to take him up on that.

Although my body is spurring me forward, telling me to take and take and take as much as I can, I know it's not a good idea. It's not the place. So I pull back, breathing hard and pressing my forehead against his.

"I love you, Brett," I gasp, my voice little more than a broken sob. "And I—I'm so grateful that we're together. That we can do this together."

"I love you, too," he murmurs, tipping his head up and kissing me on my forehead, his touch whisper-light, but sending shivers down my back anyway. "I—"

Brett and I both jump when we hear a clearing throat in the hallway, just beyond our alcove, and we jolt apart like teenagers who have been caught having a rendezvous. I'm hoping it's just one of my roommates, and not a nurse or doctor, but it turns out to be worse.

"Mr. Blackstone?"

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he says, clearing his throat and switching his briefcase to the other hand. "This is rather unexpected, I must say. When I arrived, I had fully intended to serve you with papers regarding the lawsuit. However, witnessing this...intimate moment has given me pause."

I glance at Brett, my breath stalling in my chest.

"The…genuine concern, the palpable love between you—it's quite evident. I've seen many couples in my line of work. It does appear that what you and Mr. Ratcliffe share is far from fraudulent."

"That's right," Brett says, reaching down and taking my hand.

"In light of this, I believe I have sufficient evidence to conclude that your marriage is indeed legitimate. Therefore, I'm pleased to inform you that I will be recommending all charges be dropped. The trust will remain intact, and no further legal action will be pursued. I apologize for any distress this situation may have caused, and hope you can understand that it was my duty. Congratulations on your marriage and your new family. I wish you both the very best."

With that, he gives us one curt nod, turns on his heel, and disappears down the hallway.

"What?" I say, melting into Brett's side. When I turn and look up at him, I'm shaking my head, my entire body feeling both light and molten at the same time. He's dropping the legal proceedings. I'll have the money from the trust again.

"What just happened?"

"It seems like," Brett says, leaning down and taking my face in his hands, "good things tend to happen when we kiss, so we might as well do it again."

"Right," I laugh into his mouth. "We might as well."

***

June's surgery goes smoothly. Again.

"I really hope this is the last time I'll be saying this to you," Dr. Hernandez says, crossing her arms and smiling at me. "But the surgery was a success. With any luck, you'll only need to bring June in for check-ups, and this will be her last major trip to the hospital. We'll keep her overnight for monitoring, but she should be discharged in the morning."

The rest of the roommates take off, leaving just Brett and I in June's room, looking down at her.

"Is now a good time for us to talk?" Brett asks, his eyes meeting mine over June's tiny crib. She's wrapped in bandages and has the world's smallest IV running to her arm, but sleeping like she always does. Head turned to the side, little fists near her collarbone.

"Yeah," I say, swallowing and returning my gaze to his. His eyes look darker than normal, that rich chocolate color that makes my heart beat a little faster. His hair falls into his forehead, his jaw tightening slightly.

"Okay," he says, looking to the ceiling. "So, the first thing is about what happened in Minneapolis. I wish that you'd given me a chance to explain."

"I know," I hush. "I think I have a tendency to push people away, especially when I'm hurting."

"Can I tell you about it now?"

When I nod, he clears his throat softly and runs a hand over his jaw.

"So, you know about the stuff with my family. And you know that the last time Bryson appeared, he instantly went for the thing that would hurt me most."

When I tilt my head, he gives me a slight smile.

"You, Fallon."

"Oh," I say, blushing and shaking my head.

"Well, when they ambushed me in Minneapolis, you weren't there, so Bry went for the next most important thing to me," he says, wincing slightly and shifting from side to side. Somehow, I know immediately what he's saying.

"Your leg ?" I ask, struggling to keep my voice down. "What—"

Brett rolls his eyes. "It was comical, almost, except it wasn't. He went for my leg, for my knee. Tried to kick me."

"Brett," I breathe, not even wanting to imagine it. "That's…horrible."

He lets out a short, bitter laugh. "I know. And that's why I retaliated. I was just scared and upset—but that doesn't excuse it. From now on, it won't matter what my family tries to do. To fuck with me, or us. I'm not going to let them manipulate me into losing my cool."

"It's understandable why you did," I say, voice soft. "I…well, my mom showed up at the house. Cassidy pretended I'd already legally adopted June so we could get her out."

Brett's face softens. "Shit. I didn't know she showed up."

"Well," I laugh, "she has a knack for choosing the worst possible times. I think that's—well, obviously, growing up with my mom is why pushing you away was my first reaction. I just kept telling myself that I was stupid, and that I'd already let myself like you too much."

"I'd never call you stupid," Brett says, giving me a lopsided smile, "but I hope you never stop yourself from liking me."

"Honestly, I've realized I can't stop it," I say, clearing my throat and glancing away from him. "I've tried."

When I glance back at him, he's smiling broadly at me.

"I'm not sure that's a compliment," I say, but he shakes his head, coming around the side of the bed and wrapping his arms around me.

"It is," he says, voice muffled in my shirt. "You can't stop yourself from loving me—that's what makes it real."