“Who told you that?” he grits out.
“I see it every time I look in the mirror.” It’s uneven and jagged, and there’s a thick, pink, bubble gum-like keloid on one side while my tummy pooches over on the other. The doctor said I did too much. That it would have healed better if I’d have listened and taken it easy like I was supposed to. But that had been difficult when I had a newborn to take care of and a partner, who in hindsight wasn’t much of a partner at all.
Jesse lowers back to my side, brushing the hair from my face. “Our son came from that scar, Hayden. The baby we created. It could have purple hair and teeth and I’d think it was the most beautiful fucking scar in the world.”
A small laugh rattles in my throat, as he chases away a stupid tear with his thumb.
“I’m going to tell you something and I’m fully aware that it’s going to make me sound like a creep and a complete pussy at the same time.” Humble eyes search mine for a long beat before he speaks again.
“You’re my walking, talking fantasy come to life. Hands down, the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. But when you were pregnant? Holy fuck, babe. You don’t even know how hot you were.
“I didn’t get to see you often, but I had one of those pregnancy trackers on my phone so I could keep up with how big Jett was getting and shit. And since those things are designed for women, there were weekly updates on how your body was changing, too.
“I only saw you every six weeks or so for the appointments you invited me to, but I knew exactly what you looked like in my head every friggin’ day. I imagined how your belly was swelling and how your tits were changing… your nipples… fuuuck.” He shudders and I bite back a smile. “And then I’d finally get to see you and you were always so much fucking prettier than I’d guessed you’d be.
“Your skin was perfect and your hair got thicker and your curves…” He groans and his chin twitches to the side as his lashes lower. “I jerked off on the regular, thinking about you pregnant. It was a fucking obsession.”
“Did you really?”
He holds up two fingers. “Scouts honor. I went through four bottles of lotion in as many months. But then it started to get to me. To my head.”
“What do you mean?”
His jaw tightens and his throat works as he swallows. “You know, I never got to touch your belly or feel him move?”
“What?” Of course, he had. Right? He’d been to at least four or five appointments. Ultrasounds, too.
“Nope.” He shakes his head. “I got to hear his heartbeat and see him on the monitor a few times, but I never touched you. Never got to see or feel him move under your skin. Never once felt him kick.”
“Jesse…” Emotion rolls up in my chest and I press a hand to my mouth to keep from crying out loud. How the hell had I missed that? I’d tried so hard to include him. To make sure he was involved in the pregnancy, even from a distance. Yet somehow I’d missed the simplest things. Possibly the most important.
“You offered once. During an ultrasound. But Lane was there and it didn’t feel right. I probably would have cried, too, and no way was I going to do that in front of him.” He pauses, eyes cast toward the sheets. “In hindsight, I wish I would have, you know?”
“I am so sorry.” I loop my arms around his neck and pull him close, crying into his shoulder as he holds me, ever the pillar of strength… for me… when he was the one who’d been hurt.
“But I got to see you grow more and more beautiful, babe. I got to watch you blossom and become a mom, and I got to watch him come into this world, too. At the end of the day, that’s all that really matters.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to love that scar and, frankly, it’s probably going to become my favorite part of your body. It’s proof of your strength and your commitment to our little boy. And, in a way, it’s proof of us, too. That you and me… we did something pretty fucking spectacular.”
More silent tears spill down my cheeks and he kisses them away, before lifting my face to his.
“I love you, Hayden,” he says softly, with clear and certain eyes locked on mine. “Maybe I should’ve said it four years ago in the letter I left for you. Maybe it would have changed things, I don’t know. The thing is… I wanted you to hear the words when I finally told you, not read them on paper.”
“I love you, too,” I whisper, and then open my mouth to tell him about the letter, but he kisses me again and everything else fades away.
When he eventually breaks from the kiss, both of us gasping, and begins to slide down my body again, I let him.
I let him love on the swell of my stomach and the line I’ve kept hidden. A line I was only ever ashamed of because Lane hated it. To me, however, it’s a badge of honor, just like Jesse said. And with him, I will wear it proudly.
“I need you,” I murmur, hands feathering in his hair as his tongue and lips and fingers slip lower to play between my legs. “I want to feel you inside me.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” He glances up with hooded eyes and a sexy smile, and slowly repositions, his hand wrapped around his thick cock as he guides himself to me. “Watch with me,” he whispers and I do, leaning up on my elbows as he eases inside, stretching and filling me.
His handsome face is the picture of concentration and pleasure, but I see the emotion in his eyes, too. The same emotion I feel in my heart and the depths of my soul.
He is mine, and I am his. And I have been since that first starlit night when I’d wished that someday I’d find someone who would want me, above anyone else. Someone who would respect me and never make me feel like I wasn’t enough. Someone who’d stand by my side and who would love me, despite my shortcomings.
God knows, I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life, especially where Jesse Enders is concerned…
But loving him will never be one of them.
Chapter 27
JESSE
“Well, well. Look what the cat finally dragged in.”
Amelia smirks from behind a steaming mug of coffee when I walk through the front door well past seven o’clock.
“Sorry, Lee. Got a little tied up.” I shoot her my best semi-apologetic face, drop my keys and phone onto the kitchen counter, and kick off my shoes. “Jett still in bed?”
“Yeah, and, like, literally tied up? Because I didn’t peg you for the type.”
I pin her with a glare and she shrugs, the oversized T-shirt she has on hanging from her shoulder. “Are you wearing my friggin’ shirt?”
She glances down. “Oh, yeah. I guess I am.”
“You better hope you found that in the laundry room, because, so help me God, if you went through my closet…”
“Don’t worry.” She holds up a hand. “I won’t tell anyone about the gallon of lotion on the nightstand.”
“Ha. You’re funny.” The lotion is in the bathroom, not by the bed.
“So, how’d the tattoo turn out?”
“Great. Turned out real nice.”
“And what did she get?” she asks, rolling her hand and her eyes at the same time.