Chapter 28

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

MARY

Because fight week is so busy for the city, Brad and I couldn't get adjacent rooms. When I hear the knock on the door, I don't know who it is, Brad or Rust. If it's Rust, I need to remember not to act on my feelings. Because I've spent five long weeks longing for him, I don't have to crumple and melt into his embrace.

But when I open the door, that's precisely what I do. He sweeps me into his arms. The door has hardly closed behind us before he's pushing me against the wall, kissing me passionately. Our tongues brush against each other, the love flaring. He grabs my hips and then pushes himself away from me, trembling with the effort.

"Where is he?" Rust asks.

"In his room, I think," I murmur, grabbing the front of his shirt. "I know it's not the right time, but did you?—"

"I meant every single word," he says, leaning down, looking intensely into my eyes before he kisses me again. Then he ends the kiss, but we're still close, his breath so warm and inviting. "I fell in love with you that night. Hell, it might've been before, when you walked down the stairs, looking so different, so you . I love you, Mary."

"I love…" Then I stop myself, biting down as if physically trapping the words. "I can't say it, Rust. Not until I know…"

Some use I am. I can't say that either, but Rust doesn't need me to. He knows I'm talking about the impossible scenario where Brad gives us his blessing.

"We need to speak to him," Rust says.

"Together? Now? He made it clear he wanted to be left alone."

"We have to try, at least," Rust snaps. "He's the only person I've ever even considered a friend—best, best friend. That doesn't do it justice. It's more than that. I have to try."

"I'm just so scared he'll hate us forever. He'll never get over this."

Rust puts his hand on my belly, looking intensely into my eyes. Tears glimmer, and then, unbelievably, one starts to fall. It's like a fairy tale. I've melted the beast's cold heart.

"No matter what," he growls, "I'm going to be with you and our child."

"Rust…" I clutch onto his chest and stare up into his eyes. "You're crying."

He motions to rub the tears away, but then I lean up, kissing them.

"I got a call on the way here. My dad's dead."

"What?"

"A bar fight gone wrong. He brought it on himself like he always did. He was lying about being sober, too, but it really brought it home. I'm going to be a good dad. I swear. Even if it means sacrificing everything else, I will do right by my children and by you."

He pulls me close to him, letting me feel his powerful heartbeat slamming in his chest. His muscles feel so firm and tight like all the protective impulses are bubbling up in him.

I love you , I try to say, but I can't. Not yet. I can trick myself into believing that not crossing this line makes it all okay, but it doesn't. Nothing will except Brad being there as an uncle, my parental figure, and the rock Rust has always leaned on.

"Let's go," he says, taking my hand and releasing it immediately. I try not to let that sting. Obviously, we can't hold hands or be lovey-dovey in any way. In an ideal world, there wouldn't be any space between us as we walked down the corridor, rode in the elevator, and went to Brad's room.

Rust pauses outside, sighing. He's wearing the shirt and stylish pants from the press conference, looking so handsome. I imagine telling strangers in the future excitedly, Can you believe he's my husband? I know he loves me. I feel it.

Reaching forward, I touch Rust's hand, guiding it to the door. He meets my eye, smiles tightly, and then knocks.

"Yeah?" Brad snaps.

"Uh, it's us," I say.

"Us?"

"I'm here, too," Rust says, his voice breaking a little. Then he gathers himself and hardens. "Brad, we need to talk. Please."

"I've watched the video," Brad says bitterly. "You love her. You got her pregnant. What else is there to know?"

"Brad, please," I say, my voice quivering, struggling to contain all the heartache. "I know it's not fair to expect this. We didn't want you to find out like that. I, just, I… please."

That's what we're reduced to, begging to see him because he doesn't owe us anything. After everything—the storm, the ink, my virginity, the connection, our sweet baby—he could tell us to go to hell and never speak to him again. There would be nothing we could do.

Slowly, the door opens. Brad's features are tight. There are bags under his eyes, as though the stress has instantly made them appear. His cheeks look hollow and miserable.

"Rust, old buddy, fancy seeing you here." He turns and walks into his hotel suite without a backward glance.

He has a living room area in this one, too. He sits on an armchair and folds one leg over the other, drumming his fingers against the arm. He looks ready to spring to his feet any second.

"How?" he snaps before Rust and I even sit down. "How did it happen? Explain."

"It was my fault," Rust says. "A few months before that trip, Mary seemed different to me. I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I was a virgin before that."

"No," Brad replies. "You didn't. Honestly, it doesn't surprise me. I know you had your chances, Mr. Big Man Celebrity, but you wouldn't stoop that low." Brad's tone gets vindictive. "Would you, Rust?"

"That's fair," Rust says.

"So you seduced her?"

"No, it wasn't like that?—"

Brad cuts me off with a quick look. "Sorry, sis, I'm asking my good ol' buddy, my best friend. Please let us talk."

I bite down, the pregnancy hormones sending a rage through me that tries to make me respond and say something, but I don't deserve that.

"I made the first move," Rust says. "I said I'd teach her some Jiujitsu, but I knew how I felt. I knew where I hoped it'd lead."

"But I wanted it, too," I say stubbornly. "It wasn't one-sided. We made the choice together."

"Two betrayals for the price of one," Brad says darkly. "I don't even know how I'm supposed to process this. Rust, she's eighteen."

"Nineteen," I correct.

Brad waves a hand. "Okay, nineteen."

"I know." Rust runs his hand through his black-silver hair. "I didn't plan on it, Brad. I was shocked, too. I was never attracted to anyone. I thought I was just busted when it came to that stuff. I didn't care, but then I saw her, and if she'd been a wrinkled old prune, I would've fallen in love with her wrinkles. It's not her age. It's her."

Brad looks at Rust, his stern expression almost draining away momentarily. He can feel the sincere emotion in Rust's words, but then he sighs. "Still… after all we've been through, after everything. It's Mary , Rust. Mary. Remember when we met? At the lake?"

"Of course, I remember," Rust says passionately.

"The lake?" I ask.

Brad looks off into the distance as if seeing it in his mind's eye. Despite everything, I can see the corner of his mouth trying to twitch. "You wouldn't stop crying. Mom had gotten it into her head that it was because some burglars stole some old Cross we had since I could remember. So we went on an adventure and got it back. You were just a baby, Mary."

"I know," Rust says with a dark sigh. "From the outside, it looks bad. I know, man, but I don't give a shit what people think. I only care about the truth: Mary was invisible to me, and then suddenly, she was everything to me."

I let out a gasp, then bite down. I need to control myself, be careful with the love noises, the sounds of release and hope, daring to dream this could ever work out okay.

"You've never even had a boyfriend, Mary," Brad says, "and now you're pregnant."

"I don't care," I reply. "Rust has never had a girlfriend, either. We're going on this adventure together . It's like when you were kids chasing that Cross. We're chasing the future—a family. I'm ready for it. I didn't plan it, but I am. I know I am. I know I can be a good mom."

I sit up, determination jolting through me.

"I don't doubt that ," Brad says.

"Okay, and what about Rust? Do you think he'll be a good dad? "

Brad looks at his old friend, his eyes narrowed, like he's deeply thinking about it, assessing every interaction they've ever had. "Apart from this, Rust has been the most loyal person I've ever known. He's honest. He does the right thing. He says he doesn't care, but he does, deep down, under all that toughness. I know you'll be a good dad, Rust, but that doesn't mean you're a good friend."

"I know," Rust says miserably.

"He wanted to tell you, Brad. Right away."

"Is that true?" Brad says.

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. Is it?"

Rust sighs and glances at me. "Yeah, I did."

"I was being a coward," I say. "If I'd told you earlier, we could've avoided so much."

Brad rests his head in his hands, letting out a long breath. I know that kind of breath. I've heard it before. It's the same way he sighed when the basement flooded. It's a " How are we going to fix this?" breath.

"Let's talk practicalities," Brad says. "There's more than us three involved now. Are you two going to live together? Get married? What's the long-term plan here?" He asks the questions almost aggressively, like he's battling his natural angry response. "Or haven't you gotten that far?"

"In an ideal world?" Rust says.

"Sure."

"In an ideal world, we somehow make this okay between the three of us. Then I ask you a question, Brad, permission, and if you say yes, Mary and I stay together forever. We raise our child, and maybe—hopefully—we have more kids. We stay loyal to each other. We never stray. We never even think about it. We accept that we own each other. That the storm changed us."

His voice grows husky, my tattoo pulsing. His tone is almost more emotional than I can believe coming from him. He's never sounded like this before. Not even the other times we've shared together. This is a fresh layer of raw love.

"And we go on with our lives. We let the world judge us. They say I'm a creep and that Mary's a gold digger. I don't care. If I knew the three of us were on good terms, I'd let the rest of the world burn. Family, Brad…" Rust gets choked up. "We'd be family."

Brad sits forward, head tilted in shock at Rust's words. Rust is clenching his fist, fighting off a wave of agony. He seems partially in shock from the news about his dad.

"Rust? Should I tell him?" I ask Rust in a whisper.

Rust tries to laugh and make it sound savage, like he doesn't care, but he's over it already. "I don't think it's relevant."

"Rust!"

"What are we talking about?" Brad demands.

"It's been one hell of a day," Rust says with another forced laugh. "On the drive here, I got a call. My dad finally kicked the bucket. Got himself into a fight, tried to pull a weapon, and got it used against him."

"Jesus, Rust," Brad whispers. "That's awful."

"You know he deserved it."

"I know you had it bad," Brad says, "but I never knew what he did."

"Pimped out my mom. He abused her when I could hear. He hit me before I got big enough to defend myself."

I can't help it. Reaching out, I grab onto Rust's wrist, squeezing so he can feel the support blazing through me, the never-ending love. "I'm so sorry, Rust," I whisper.

He just shrugs. "It is what it is. I'm not interested in that family. I'm interested in the family we've got here." He lets my hand go, clearly not wanting to show affection in front of Brad.

We sit in silence for what feels like hours but could be minutes. I can feel Brad thinking, the synapses in his brain firing. It's like I can feel him imagining all the possible futures, the ones that end in disaster, the ones that end in a warm glow we'll never let go.

"You're not just saying all this?" Brad breaks the silence, leaning forward, looking at Rust and then me and then at us , like we're a couple. "Maybe you had a wild night, lost control, and the baby came along. Maybe you're saying this because you know it's the only way I could ever accept it. If this is crap, I deserve to know. There's been enough lying."

"It's the truth," Rust says in his deep, rumbling voice.

"It is," I back him up. "I love him. He loves me. We're going to do right by our baby. We can do it." I can't hold the tears back anymore. "Just think how happy they'll be, Brad, having an uncle like you. An uncle with so much love to give."

"Do you think you're going to be together forever? " Brad asks. "In ten, twenty, thirty years?"

"Yes," I say passionately. "I don't want anybody else."

"I'd be alone again for the rest of my life," Rust snaps, "without Mary. Nobody else interests me. Nobody else lights me up. She's changed me, Brad."

"I can see that," Brad mutters. "I was wondering what was happening. I knew something was going on."

"It was love. It is love." Rust leans over toward Brad, almost like he's going to sink to his knees and beg. "We never would've seen this coming, would we, all those years ago? But this is where we are, and it's not just about us."

My hand smooths over my belly as his voice gets a serious, protective note.

"It's about the baby," Brad says warmly, and then the impossible happens. A smile spreads across his face slowly, like a lazy sunbeam washing away a cloud.

"The baby," I whisper.

Brad blinks, tears clinging to his eyelashes. "Dammit, you two. This better be the real thing." He stands.

"It is," I say, my voice breaking, standing up, too.

Brad pulls me into a hug. A moment later, I feel Rust's arms wrapped around me. Oh my God. Tears sting my eyes, happy tears: relief and guilt, all mixing together. The three of us hug like we're all protecting the baby.

"Brad," Rust says when the hug comes to a natural end. "Can I discuss something with you in private?"

A warm tingle courses through my belly. It's not like I have to guess what he's going to ask—for his blessing. It makes sense to ask Brad, not Dad, because Brad was always there, and somehow, he'll still be there. My baby will have their uncle!

"Sure," Brad says, still smiling.