He always asked me. He always made sure that I knew I was here for him, he didn’t have me in his bed and in his life because he was looking for me to play mommy to his little boy. He had me there because that was where he wanted me, where I belonged, and no one else would ever be able to fit in that space besides me. For the first few months it had been a delicate balancing act, letting Wheeler figure out just how much he could take on with the baby without me offering to help. Everything inside of me wanted to scream that I was there, that he could take advantage of my two capable hands, and that I was dying to help, but the fact was I had to let him bury himself before I could dig him out.
“More than sure.” The baby wailed again and I pushed off the bed and hustled across the room before he got really agitated and worked himself into a fit that would be impossible to quiet down without hours of cuddling and rocking in his favorite chair.
Those unforgettable eyes slid shut and that broad, tattooed chest heaved a grateful sigh that made my heart thud heavily and happily. “I’m here if you need me.” The words were sleep-slurred and sloppy but I knew he meant them with every single fiber of his being.
“You always are.”
He’d been there through every step of my father’s arraignment and subsequent trial. He’d been there through the media circus that surrounded it all when the local press put together that the victim (me) was the same woman that had been abducted and raped by her husband. The fact that Dad was so heavily involved in the church made for a story too juicy to resist. He was there when my father was convicted and sentenced, showing zero apology or remorse for the things he did as he was led away. Wheeler was the one that kept me together when I got the call from Case Lawton that my mom had been skipping church and her weekly meetings with the counselor that her friends forced her to go see after my father no longer had control over every single aspect of her life. I knew even before he told me that it wasn’t good. Her skipping mandatory therapy was one thing; her skipping church was something she would only do if something was seriously wrong with her.
She was dead.
Sheriff Lawton told me he found her in the chair by the window and an empty bottle of pills on the floor by her feet. She left a note but all it said was:
I can’t live without him.
My father killed her just like I knew he would. Even if it wasn’t by his own hand, he was the reason she was no longer alive.
It was hard. Dealing with the funeral arrangements, fielding questions from the nosy people that hadn’t bothered to step in before it was too late, and trying not to let the guilt Salem felt for shutting her out and letting her go overwhelm me. It was hard but I managed because I had Wheeler to lean on. Every time I stumbled he was there with a hand on my elbow to keep me upright. Every time I felt lost, all I had to do was look for that bright spot of color, that boy who was impossible to miss, and find my way back to where I was supposed to be. He was absolutely there when I needed him, which is why I had no problem slipping out of the room and into the nursery just as Royce’s clenched little fists lifted to his tiny, furious face. I could see he was gearing up to scream his displeasure to the world, so I rushed to the side of the crib and picked him up before he could really get going. I shushed him, rubbed his back, and rubbed my cheek against the velvety softness of his. I made a face when I got a whiff of what was obviously making him so uncomfortable and irritated.
I held the baby out in front of me and wrinkled up my nose at him as he grabbed for fistfuls of my hair. He cooed at me and blinked eyes that were the exact same icy blue as Wheeler’s. His face scrunched up into a baby grin and my heart felt like it was going to burst because it was so full when the single dimple Royce had in his left cheek appeared. He was going to appreciate inheriting that from his daddy when he was old enough to understand the effect it had on the opposite sex.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, little man. I’ll make it all better.” And like he understood that I would always be there, I would always do what I could to make things the best they could be for him. He quieted right down and switched from fussing to giggling as he grabbed at my hair, trying to shove handfuls of it into his mouth.
I laid him down on the changing table and went to work getting a new diaper on him and getting him all cleaned up. He’d had a blowout, so he needed a new set of pajamas. I put him in ones that had little elephants all over them, courtesy of Zak and his lovely wife. Royce had more baby stuff than I’d ever seen. His nursery was filled to capacity with gifts and gadgets that were constantly arriving from California. Shannon’s health had steadily declined the last few months and Zak hadn’t been able to visit as often as he wanted to. Wheeler and I were planning a trip to California around my birthday so we could take the baby to see his great-grandfather since his great-grandfather couldn’t come to him. It was all about family. It was the way I had always wanted it to be.
“All better.” I put Royce to my shoulder and settled us into the rocking chair Wheeler had bought when he realized how soothing the baby found the gentle back-and-forth motion.
The first time I held Royce, and I looked into those eyes, Wheeler’s eyes, I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. He was so much a part of Wheeler, so innocent and pure, so sweet and helpless, all I wanted to do was protect him and make sure he knew he was loved, that he would always have a place to call home.
I was all in and I never wanted out.
I muttered into Royce’s neck. Telling him stories about his dad and his mom, telling him that Wheeler had already bought him his first car, that it was sitting at the shop under a tarp waiting until he was old enough to use a socket wrench. I told him all about my niece, Glory, who had made her way into the world a couple of months after he did. She was the perfect mixture of both Rowdy and my sister, with a cap of fuzzy blond hair and endlessly dark eyes and perfectly glorious, golden skin. At some point while I was talking, the baby fell asleep on my shoulder, his whispery breaths in my ear the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. The dog had also made his way into the room and made himself comfortable next to my feet. It was every dream I’d ever had come true.
“You look good holding my baby, honey.” Wheeler’s words had my gaze lifting to where he was propped up in the doorway, one arm lifted above his head, the other lazily scratching across his chest. He always made my breath catch and blood run hot, but his words had a new kind of longing unfurling and working its way through my entire body.
“More than sure.” The baby wailed again and I pushed off the bed and hustled across the room before he got really agitated and worked himself into a fit that would be impossible to quiet down without hours of cuddling and rocking in his favorite chair.
Those unforgettable eyes slid shut and that broad, tattooed chest heaved a grateful sigh that made my heart thud heavily and happily. “I’m here if you need me.” The words were sleep-slurred and sloppy but I knew he meant them with every single fiber of his being.
“You always are.”
He’d been there through every step of my father’s arraignment and subsequent trial. He’d been there through the media circus that surrounded it all when the local press put together that the victim (me) was the same woman that had been abducted and raped by her husband. The fact that Dad was so heavily involved in the church made for a story too juicy to resist. He was there when my father was convicted and sentenced, showing zero apology or remorse for the things he did as he was led away. Wheeler was the one that kept me together when I got the call from Case Lawton that my mom had been skipping church and her weekly meetings with the counselor that her friends forced her to go see after my father no longer had control over every single aspect of her life. I knew even before he told me that it wasn’t good. Her skipping mandatory therapy was one thing; her skipping church was something she would only do if something was seriously wrong with her.
She was dead.
Sheriff Lawton told me he found her in the chair by the window and an empty bottle of pills on the floor by her feet. She left a note but all it said was:
I can’t live without him.
My father killed her just like I knew he would. Even if it wasn’t by his own hand, he was the reason she was no longer alive.
It was hard. Dealing with the funeral arrangements, fielding questions from the nosy people that hadn’t bothered to step in before it was too late, and trying not to let the guilt Salem felt for shutting her out and letting her go overwhelm me. It was hard but I managed because I had Wheeler to lean on. Every time I stumbled he was there with a hand on my elbow to keep me upright. Every time I felt lost, all I had to do was look for that bright spot of color, that boy who was impossible to miss, and find my way back to where I was supposed to be. He was absolutely there when I needed him, which is why I had no problem slipping out of the room and into the nursery just as Royce’s clenched little fists lifted to his tiny, furious face. I could see he was gearing up to scream his displeasure to the world, so I rushed to the side of the crib and picked him up before he could really get going. I shushed him, rubbed his back, and rubbed my cheek against the velvety softness of his. I made a face when I got a whiff of what was obviously making him so uncomfortable and irritated.
I held the baby out in front of me and wrinkled up my nose at him as he grabbed for fistfuls of my hair. He cooed at me and blinked eyes that were the exact same icy blue as Wheeler’s. His face scrunched up into a baby grin and my heart felt like it was going to burst because it was so full when the single dimple Royce had in his left cheek appeared. He was going to appreciate inheriting that from his daddy when he was old enough to understand the effect it had on the opposite sex.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, little man. I’ll make it all better.” And like he understood that I would always be there, I would always do what I could to make things the best they could be for him. He quieted right down and switched from fussing to giggling as he grabbed at my hair, trying to shove handfuls of it into his mouth.
I laid him down on the changing table and went to work getting a new diaper on him and getting him all cleaned up. He’d had a blowout, so he needed a new set of pajamas. I put him in ones that had little elephants all over them, courtesy of Zak and his lovely wife. Royce had more baby stuff than I’d ever seen. His nursery was filled to capacity with gifts and gadgets that were constantly arriving from California. Shannon’s health had steadily declined the last few months and Zak hadn’t been able to visit as often as he wanted to. Wheeler and I were planning a trip to California around my birthday so we could take the baby to see his great-grandfather since his great-grandfather couldn’t come to him. It was all about family. It was the way I had always wanted it to be.
“All better.” I put Royce to my shoulder and settled us into the rocking chair Wheeler had bought when he realized how soothing the baby found the gentle back-and-forth motion.
The first time I held Royce, and I looked into those eyes, Wheeler’s eyes, I felt like the biggest idiot in the world. He was so much a part of Wheeler, so innocent and pure, so sweet and helpless, all I wanted to do was protect him and make sure he knew he was loved, that he would always have a place to call home.
I was all in and I never wanted out.
I muttered into Royce’s neck. Telling him stories about his dad and his mom, telling him that Wheeler had already bought him his first car, that it was sitting at the shop under a tarp waiting until he was old enough to use a socket wrench. I told him all about my niece, Glory, who had made her way into the world a couple of months after he did. She was the perfect mixture of both Rowdy and my sister, with a cap of fuzzy blond hair and endlessly dark eyes and perfectly glorious, golden skin. At some point while I was talking, the baby fell asleep on my shoulder, his whispery breaths in my ear the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. The dog had also made his way into the room and made himself comfortable next to my feet. It was every dream I’d ever had come true.
“You look good holding my baby, honey.” Wheeler’s words had my gaze lifting to where he was propped up in the doorway, one arm lifted above his head, the other lazily scratching across his chest. He always made my breath catch and blood run hot, but his words had a new kind of longing unfurling and working its way through my entire body.
