“Helping you pack your shit. You can keep the apartment for as long as you want, but I’m going to take as much time with you under my roof as I can get.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Willow
Dallas and Hudson are moving the few boxes I packed for my trial run at Dallas’s.
I’m doing this.
Really doing this.
I stop on the porch before walking through the front door. I jumped down these stairs, barefoot, with tears running down my face. I stare at the door, remembering my last look of Dallas that day. Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself.
I haven’t been back in the house since Maven was sick. Maybe I should’ve taken a tour, made sure I was emotionally stable to handle more than three hours here.
I’m going to walk in there, be strong, and do what’s right for my heart.
For my baby. For us.
The excitement of spending more time with him and Maven is what keeps me walking. I love spending time with them. I’d go to bed, wishing Dallas were there to hold me, to kiss me, to share the moment when the baby kicked.
Dallas is still a man who struggles, but that only makes me fall more in love with him. Lucy’s note sparked something inside me, an insight I never thought about when I shut myself down after considering a future with him. Dallas might be a little broken, but he knows what love is. He sacrifices for love, for his family—something Brett never did with me.
I’d rather have a broken man who knows how to love than a man with no scars who’s never loved anyone but himself.
Dallas squeezes my elbow when I walk through the front door. “If you’re not cool with this, let me know, okay? I’ll call a realtor, and we can look for another property.”
I stare at him, unblinking. “Are you talking about buying a new house?”
He practically built this house with his own two hands. He loves this home.
“If that’s what makes you comfortable.” He slides in closer and gently pushes a fallen strand of hair from my ponytail out of my eyes. His hands then rest on my hips. “This is your home now, do you hear me? Our home. I want you to be able to relax, to be able to touch me, to feel okay with having sex with me here.” He chuckles. “Because we know that’s going to be happening a lot as soon as our little one is born.”
I smile. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that.” Especially with him. It’s hard to go from having sex with fuck boys to Dallas and then being told you’re on bed rest and that you need to refrain from sex. It’s like tasting an expensive cupcake for the first time after years of eating cheap candy, and then it gets taken away from you.
His hand moves down to brush between my legs. “I might not be able to fuck you yet, but I promise I’ll do something for you tonight.”
I rest my hand on his chest. “I have something to look forward to.”
“You most certainly do.”
“All right, kids, take it to the bedroom,” Hudson says, walking in. “And, speaking of bedroom, is that where you want me to put this stuff?”
I take my time while Dallas waits for an answer. “Yeah,” I stutter out. “Sure.”
I follow them down the hallway and into the bedroom, not sure if I’m truly ready for this. I take in a heavy breath and wait for the blow of bad memories and heartache to hit me, but nothing does when I walk in.
The furniture and bedding is new. I try not to make it too obvious that I’m searching for the signs of Lucy I saw last time I was in here, but they are now missing. The perfume bottle, the pictures, the clothes—it’s all gone.
Hudson sets the box down on the floor and leaves the room.
“You got rid of her stuff?” I ask Dallas, guilt seeping through me. Forcing his hand to do this wasn’t what I wanted. “I swear, my intentions weren’t for you to erase her.”
“I didn’t erase her.”
He holds his hand to his heart while mine pounds. He’s no longer wearing his wedding ring. Hasn’t been for a few weeks, but I haven’t questioned him about it. I wasn’t sure if he did it to make me happy, or because he wanted to for himself.
Now I know it’s because he wanted to.
“No matter what, Lucy will always have a spot in my heart,” he goes on.
I nod. I don’t want him to lose that either.
“It was time I did it. I can’t keep living in the past, especially when it was destroying my happy future. It was hell, don’t get me wrong, pushing myself to do something I should’ve done months ago. I waited until I was ready, so thank you for giving me time to do that. I went through everything with Maven. She chose the stuff she wanted to keep, and then Lucy’s family came over for their own keepsakes.”
I sit down on the bed and trace my fingers over the new white bedspread. “Just don’t kick me out of this bed, okay?”
He smirks. “Sweetheart, the only reason I’d kick you out of this bed is to fuck you on the floor.”
I stand up to wrap my arms around his neck. He did all of this for me. Opened his heart back up for me. He wants to make a home with me and have a family together because he loves me.
I love him.
I’m tired of running from it. Tired of fighting. I have to be strong and honest for our baby, for ourselves, for the six-year-old girl who made me a Welcome Home sign, which is displayed on the front door.
“I love you,” I whisper into his mouth.
“There it is.” He grins. “And I love you.”
Chapter Forty-Three
Dallas
FOUR MONTHS LATER
The ear-blasting cry is music to my ears.
A sound I was afraid I wouldn’t hear. I put the sadness that there should be two in the back of my mind. I won’t let that loss interfere with the bliss of this moment.
No surprise to me, Willow was a fucking trooper. She spent ten hours in labor and didn’t complain once. All that was on her mind was the excitement of meeting our baby mixed with worry that it might not happen. I stayed by her side the entire time, not moving once, because I didn’t want to miss a thing. She needed to know I was with her on this all the way.
Our life has turned into a whirlwind of changes. Willow has moved in, but nothing has changed in the Barnes’ household. It feels like she’s been there forever. I was anxious at the beginning, given our history there, but losing our baby has taught us to cherish every moment.
Fuck the petty shit.
Fuck running.
Fuck being afraid.
His wails calm when Aidan hands him, wrapped in his blanket, to Willow. My breathing halts when she situates him in her arms, already comfortable with how he likes to be cradled, and she plays with his tiny hand while whispering to him.
I stare at them with compassion. With happiness. With love.
As much as I want to have my turn, I wait until she’s ready. She deserves this.
My heart thrashes against my chest when she stares up at me with wet eyes. She moves her arm, shifting toward me, and I waste no time in scooping him up. He’s perfect—from his full head of dark hair to his button nose—and he’s squirming like a fish out of water.