Chapter 15

I wake up and instantly reach for Maci, but she isn't beside me. I flip over, looking at the clock on my nightstand to see it's a few minutes after ten at night. I've been asleep for hours, and that's coming from a dude who never fucking naps.

Where the fuck did she go? keeps running through my head as I quickly get out of bed and walk to my dresser. More importantly, why the fuck isn't she in my arms, naked and ready for me to fuck her again?

I pull a pair of sweatpants on and head toward the door, panicking that we've taken things too far for her and now she's getting spooked. It's not lost on me how much I love having her around or how I'm no longer just excited to see Amelia, but Maci too.

Fuck. I think I'm falling for this girl.

I bolt toward her bedroom, scared to find her packing or something, but before I get there, the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard hits me, and I stop when I reach her office door.

It's open, giving me a clear shot of her at work, and as I take her in, my chest heats, and my heart swells, all at the same time.

She's a fucking sight to behold, still wearing my baggy Sharks T-shirt with her hair pulled into a messy bun at the top of her head, as she sits perched in front of her computer, so deep in what she's writing that she doesn't even notice me watching her.

I could watch her work for hours because of the peaceful look on her face while she does it. It brings me my own kind of tranquility within, even though I don't understand why.

The corner of her lips turns up as she smiles, nothing but pure joy written in her expression as she brings the words to life. I have no idea what her story is about, but I can't wait to find out one day.

Suddenly, with a few pushes of a button and a click of the mouse, she relaxes back in her seat. And then she finally notices me.

Leaning on the doorframe, I jerk my chin up at her. "Anyone ever tell you that you look awfully pretty when you're deep in thought and hard at work, Boston?"

She smiles big at me, so big that it lights up her eyes. "No, but now, they have." She slowly stands, walks around the desk, and stops before me. "Did you have a good nap, Mr. Sterns?"

"I did. I never nap though. I guess you really wore me out, woman." I put my hand on her hip, digging my fingertips into the soft flesh under the fabric of my shirt. "Come on. Instead of you cooking for me or me eating you, for once, I'm going to make you something."

"Oh, yeah? And what's that?" She sounds genuinely intrigued.

"Some pancakes, of course," I say matter-of-factly. "I'm the pancake master after all."

She leans against me, wrapping her arms around my waist and angling her chin up like she wants a kiss but doesn't want to ask. Cupping her cheek, I bring my lips to hers and breathe in that coconut scent that always seems to awaken my cock, even when it's spent.

It's just a kiss. Not as small as a peck, but not a deep one either. Yet I don't think I'll ever get tired of doing it just like that.

And that's a little terrifying because she's already told me we aren't the couple in her book. Our story isn't going to end the way theirs does.

And now, gazing at her as she holds on to me, I can't help but wonder, How the fuck will our story end? And it can't be soon because I'm not ready.

I sit on a stool at the counter, laughing so much that my stomach hurts. Logan is in a random chef's hat he pulled out of absolutely nowhere with an apron covering his rock-hard abs.

"I told you, I'm the master of pancakes," he says, attempting to flip one in the air, but it winds up on the floor, just like the two before it.

"What makes you an expert?" I barely get the words out through the laughter.

I point at the pancakes on the floor just before Clyde realizes they are there and rushes over to inhale them before someone cleans them up.

"I just am. Just ask Clyde."

Finally, he stops goofing off long enough to create a pretty big stack of pancakes on a plate, and then he grabs the syrup and sets them both down in front of me.

"How's that for expert?" he says, slapping his spatula down onto the stack. "Eat up, sweet thing. You might just need your energy."

As he comes around the counter, taking a seat next to me, he leans in, our shoulders rubbing together as we both start digging in.

He makes some insane facial expression that has me almost choke on my food, and my eyes water from laughter. And that's when I feel it.

The moment we're in right now … it's the kind of moment that I write about. The point in a story when things start to shift to a place of no return. I feel it while writing, and I always pray my readers will feel it when reading.

As cheesy as it sounds, it's the part when the characters fall for each other. It's no longer a silly arrangement or a friend type of thing. Sparks are flying, and there's nothing they can do to stop it.

Well, nothing other than the obvious. End things. And right now, I don't have it in me to do that. I don't want to do it either.

When Logan found me in my office, I had just finished writing three thousand words. I couldn't get my fingers to type quick enough, and before Logan Sterns, it had been years since I'd felt that way.

"He looks like me when I see your boobies," Logan drawls, waving his fork toward Clyde, who sits on the floor next to us, staring at our food as drool pours from his jowls.

I shake my head and smack him playfully, knowing that within thirty seconds, he'll just be saying something else that makes me laugh.

"I think, tonight, it should be my turn to ask you three questions." I pause. "Well, two, and then I'll give you the option to answer the third or do something dirty."

"Unlike you, I'm not a little sex addict, so I'll probably answer the question," he teases me, tickling my side as we lie in his bed, both staring up at the ceiling. "Besides, it's not your birthday. For your birthday, I'll answer your questions. Fair is fair."

"You're going to make me wait till May?"

His deep chuckle rattles through my body and brings me a strange sense of comfort. "When in May?"

"May 8," I answer.

He quickly sits up beside me. "Wait, are you fucking with me?"

I glance over at him. "No. Why?"

"That's Amelia's birthday," he almost whispers. "That's insane."

For weeks, I thought about finding out when her birthday was so that I could help him plan whatever he wanted to do. But I kept forgetting. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we had the same birthday.

At least that makes it a little bright, seeing as I usually hate the day.

"That's so weird," I murmur as he lies down again, this time tucking his arm under my body and pulling me against him. The way he holds me makes me feel like he needs me. Like he actually wants me or something.

"Can I ask you a question—even though it isn't my birthday yet? Does her mom … like … send a card or anything on her birthday, or does she not acknowledge it?"

He's quiet for a moment, and I know he's probably uncomfortable. Maybe I asked something I shouldn't have.

Finally, he sighs. "It'd be hard for her to do that. She's, uh … she isn't alive."

"What?" I crane my neck and look up at him. "I thought … I thought she just wasn't in her life. You know, by choice." I thought that because that's what Poppy told me.

"That's the story I've stuck with because I don't want the public to know the real story."

He inhales a shaky breath, and I know that he's opening up to me because he feels like he can trust me. I hope he knows he can anyway.

"Amelia's mom, Cassandra, was killed in an accident. But somehow, they were able to deliver Amelia, and she survived. I have never really talked to Amelia about it before because she's never known any different than it just being her and me. And I've never wanted to scare her by telling her that her mother died because I don't want her to be scared of me ever dying. She's three, and … I just want to protect her from knowing how fucked up life truly is." He swallows thickly. "Besides, what kid wants to know their mother died on their own birthday?"

The next words that come from my lips, I have to force them out. Because I'm not sure I want to even know the truth. "Where did it happen?" I whisper. "Where was the accident?"

"Right here in Portland," he answers. "Cassandra was on her phone and ran through a red light. She crashed into another car that was going through their green light."

The room begins to spin, and I feel sick to my stomach.

Her name … Cassandra.

It happened in Portland. At a light.

She was pregnant.

The date … May 8.

There are too many things for this to be a coincidence.

"Hey, you all right?" I barely hear Logan say as he gives my body a small squeeze with his arm. "Sorry I didn't tell you before. I just … I've never really talked about it. Like I said, I didn't want the public to get ahold of it. Because if the press ever knew that my child's mother was killed in an accident, it would be in every newspaper. And Amelia doesn't need to face that. The kid already doesn't have a mom. Or a grandmother."

His words pierce my soul, cutting deeper than I ever thought words could. I feel myself sinking into a deep black hole. The same black hole I spent years trying to claw myself out of. And I almost made it out too. All because of them.

How can the reason I was almost out of it and the reason I'm falling back in be the same?

He tugs on my body until I flip onto my stomach and am looking at him, which is the last place I want to be looking right now. It kills me to gaze into his eyes and know I'm holding in a secret. This is like Pandora's box, and I wish I'd never opened it.

He cups my cheek. "I guess I'm telling you now because … well, it feels like things are changing between us, Mace. Like … really changing."

"How so?" I barely squeak, my stomach still churning from everything he just said.

As I stare at him, my head grows even dizzier, and I feel like I've got to be in a nightmare. Whatever he's about to say, I don't deserve it.

"Like … it doesn't seem like we're just doing this for the sake of your book anymore, Boston." His finger strokes my face. "At least, not to me it doesn't. To me, it feels like this thing … it's real."

I don't respond. How can I without wrecking his whole world, along with my own? Whatever I do is wrong. If I say nothing, I'm being cold after he just opened up and shared something sacred with me. If I say what I really want to—that I know this thing is real and that I'm falling in love with him—I'm screwed because once he learns the truth about me, he won't want me anyway. So, maybe the only thing to do tonight is to lie because I'm not ready for him to look at me like I'm the monster in my own story just yet.

"Sorry if I freaked you out," he blurts out.

I know right away that he's uncomfortable. The Logan Sterns I know isn't used to being met with silence.

"You didn't freak me out." I force the words out, even though it physically hurts. "And I understand why you didn't tell me sooner." Really, I do. Because I've got my own set of secrets. "I'm just … super tired."

As I flip back over, putting my back up against his side, I hear a sharp inhale.

"Me too, beautiful." He leans forward and kisses the top of my head. "Let's get some sleep."

For a while, we lie there in deafening silence. A kind so thick that it's louder than any sound could ever be. But eventually, he drifts off to sleep, keeping his arm looped around the front of me, holding me tight against him—a place I don't deserve to be at all.

I don't deserve to know him or to be in Amelia's life. I tell myself I should get up. I should run away and never look back. That would be the right thing to do. As he sleeps, tears run down my cheeks. Because selfishly, I really … really don't want to leave them.

Not now that I've realized … I love them both.

But my thoughts haunt me, pulling me back to the past and reminding me of the truth. The truth I need to tell him. The truth he deserves.

"Thanks for the birthday lunch, Dad." I looked over at him sitting in the passenger seat, still in shock that he let me drive.

I'd had my license for years, yet he always insisted on driving. I tried not to take offense to it even though I knew I was an overly cautious driver. Heck, I was cautious with every decision in my life.

"Hey, tradition is tradition, right?" he said proudly.

And he was right. For as long as I could remember, my dad had taken me out to lunch for my birthday. Even though I had moved to Maine and he still lived in Boston, he'd made the drive just to spend time with me on my birthday.

"I'm awfully proud of you, Mace. Your mom and I both are. It's nice to see this author thing really working out for you." He paused. "Have you and Gavin chosen a date yet?"

There was always hesitation in his tone when he spoke about my fiancé, Gavin. I knew he wasn't completely on board with us getting married, but my father was the type that just wanted to see me happy. And if he thought Gavin was my key to happiness, he'd suck it up and accept him, whereas my mom and sister were a little more opinionated with their concerns. But in their defense, Gavin typically always did everything he could to avoid spending time with my family and only ever wanted us to do things with his.

"We're thinking next fall," I said, feeling that sense of anxiousness in the pit of my stomach. The same feeling I had been trying to shake for months. "Maybe the beginning of October, before it gets too cold."

I kept driving through downtown Portland, making our way through the city. We were going to Cabela's to get some of those delicious glazed pecans and then planned to go to some doughnut shop nearby. My mom couldn't make it because her sister was having surgery that morning, and I knew it killed my mom to miss out on the trip to Maine to spend the day with dad and me. But I always loved alone time with him. I had always been a daddy's girl.

A light up ahead was red, and I pushed on the brakes until the car rolled to a stop.

"It'll be great, sweetie. I'm sure." He said the words in a lower tone than he usually spoke, and I knew there was more he wanted to say. "I just want you to be happy, Maci. But just so you know, I don't think you need a man to make you happy. I think you've got everything inside of you for that already."

I knew what he was saying, and deep down, I thought he knew I wasn't happy. But I guessed a part of me just couldn't walk away from Gavin.

He hadn't always been weird about being around my family or jealous that my career was taking off. No, the bitterness of that had come after my third book landed in the top ten in the entire Kindle store. But I just kept thinking it would pass. That, one day, he'd wake up and realize how proud of me he was.

And then there was the other part. The one where I feared I wouldn't find anyone else.

I was now twenty-four, and even though that was still extremely young, my parents had gotten married when they were nineteen. So, in my eyes, I was behind where I should have been in life. Sure, I was excelling in my career, but I knew life wasn't all about work.

When the light turned green, I started driving, thinking of how I wanted to respond to his words. My dad wasn't overly deep and emotional, but he would go there from time to time. And I thought that was his last effort to try to get through to me before I made a decision as big as tying the knot legally.

My mouth opened, but before I could get the words out, a car came out of nowhere, running right into the passenger side of mine.

My father was killed instantly. I screamed senselessly while stuck next to him in the car, unable to get myself to leave his side, but I couldn't hear anything. It was almost as though my eardrums had been blown.

I lost my dad that day, on my birthday. And once the police arrived and pulled me from the car unwillingly, I saw her. Her stomach was swollen—she had to have been at least eight or nine months pregnant. I learned not long after that her name was Cassandra. And she'd died.

I snap back to the present as tears stream down my face like a waterfall. Carefully, I roll over and gaze up at the man whose arms are now wrapped around my body.

The accident, a woman running a red light and killing her and my dad both—it's something I've lived with for years. But it's more complicated now. It isn't just about me anymore. It's about Amelia and how this will one day affect her. And it will. That's inevitable.

If I leave her life, she'll never have to learn the truth. But if I stay, how can I look her in the eyes every day and know that I was there the day her mother—the woman she never got the chance to meet—took her last breath?

Selfishly, I can't leave them yet. I'm not ready. I need them like I need air or water. So, I'll tell him lies. I'll hide the truth—anything for just a little more time.

I'm going to hell for this—I know that much. But at least I'll have a few more memories of Logan and Amelia to take with me before I burn.

I stopped believing in the good in this world on the day my dad died in front of me. But if there's one good thing that came from that horrific day, it's Amelia Sterns.

And she deserves a lot better of a person in her life than me.