“They’re sending an ambulance, but it’s going to be a while,” Mum announces.
Dad steps up behind Malik, his expression like thunder. “No, baby, you’re too good for him. You are too good for us.”
Max squeezes my shoulders from behind, leaning over the back of the sofa. “You are the best of us, Lily Carter. Never forget that.”
“The strongest of us all,” Mason adds.
“With the purest soul,” Myles exclaims.
“And the biggest heart,” Malik finishes.
“Jaxon knows what he has, Lily. Which is why he didn’t waste any time marrying you or getting you pregnant,” Maddox admits.
I sniffle. “What do you mean?”
“Babe, it didn’t happen by accident. He did that shit on purpose to tie you to him forever.”
“No, he didn’t.”
He forces a smile. “Yeah, babe, he did. He knows a good thing when he sees it, but with you, he knew you were the world and never took any chances. He gave you all of him because you gave him all of you.”
I crumble, breaking into heavy sobs. “I can’t do this without him.”
“Yes, you can,” Dad declares, sitting down next to me.
“I can’t. I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can, because Jaxon is going to be okay, you are going to be okay, and the baby is going to be okay.”
“What if I can’t do this? What if I’m alone and I… I’m not good enough,” I choke out, just as my back arches off the sofa, and I cry out in pain.
“You are good enough. And when the baby is born, you’ll wonder why you thought all of this. Then you’ll have another, and all these emotions, they’ll come back, but you’ll get through them.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can, because I went through something similar when Mark was born and again the night Aiden was born.”
“You did?”
He nods. “I did, and the best part of it all? The things that made it all better? Well…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAVERICK
All my life I’ve lived with a guilt so deeply rooted in me, it became a part of me. It became a part of the choices I made, whether that be a life choice or what I was going to have for dinner that night.
And it all boiled down to one thing:
I failed my brothers growing up. I failed them in a way that is irreversible.
I can’t rewind time, I can’t change the past, and I can’t make them heal.
And it scared me. It scared me so much it kept me up most nights.
Now they are healing. I think from the moment we moved into my grandpa’s they began to slowly heal. And their other halves have helped heal the rest, something I’ve always been truly grateful for. Seeing them happy, thriving, I couldn’t ask for anything else.
Teagan and Faith have done that for me. They’ve given me love I never knew I needed. They’ve given me acceptance, even knowing my past. They heal me in a way no one has ever been able to. And in a way, they gave me a new identity, a new meaning, a new goal in life.
Loving them has been as easy as breathing.
Our family has grown. First Lily, then Mark, and now baby Aiden. All five of them are my life and I can’t imagine my life without them in it.
The guilt I have stupidly been carrying around all these years, however, ebbed away the minute I heard the words: ‘She’s in recovery.’
And I finally got to understand how my brothers moved on without a backward glance. I finally understood what it meant to live and let go of that last bit of guilt.
My past has always caught up with me, including the beginning of mine and Teagan’s relationship. I nearly lost both of them during the fire because of it.
And the other night, I nearly lost Teagan.
And everything I have been feeling for years now hit me so hard I got knocked on my arse. Not only because I nearly lost the love of my life, my reason for breathing, but because my eyes were opened to how I’ve been living my life. And one of those realisations is I’ve been living in fear I’ll fuck this up. Fuck up being a husband. Fuck up being a father.
The second realisation is that I’ve been fathering my kids like I’m walking on eggshells.
I love them with everything in me. I’ll die for them. Kill for them if they were ever harmed. But somewhere between Faith, and Lily coming into our life, fear crept in and has held me back from really enjoying it. Instead, I have been taking my role as a father seriously, making sure they have everything they need, that they are always safe, and I missed it.
I missed the other part of being a parent, the one that doesn’t involve worrying and being wary of every move you make. And because of it, the laughter, the enjoyment, the pure bliss of being a parent has gone over my head. I’ll never get to look back on our memories and think of the sound of their laughter, the brightness in their eyes, or the milestones they took. Instead, all I’ll see now is how stressed and worried I have been.
I should have realised they can have it all. They can get all of me. The concerned, overprotective, and serious dad, and the fun, loving, easy-going dad.
It just took the doctor telling me that she’s in recovery to open my eyes to all of that. Now I feel like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I feel like I can finally breathe easier, which is something I’ve not been able to do since we moved in together as a family of four.
“You’ve been quiet,” Teagan points out as I pull up outside our house, a house I’m glad I renovated to fit us all, including our other family members, because we are growing at a rapid rate. “Is it because I won’t be able to have any more children?”
I shut off the car and turn to her, her mind-blowing beauty shining back at me. Then her words hit me, and I reach out, taking her hand in mine. “You’ve given me four beautiful kids, so no, baby.”
She sucks in her bottom lip. “Then what’s wrong?”
I stare at her for a moment longer, my love for her overwhelming me. It isn’t just her beauty, it’s her. She pulled me in years ago, and I’ve made sure neither of us have let go since.
“I just realised how lucky I am to have met you, to have what we have,” I admit, my throat tight with emotion.
She runs her hand across my jaw. “Babe,” she murmurs.
“I feel whole. I’ve always felt it with you, and, babe, no joke, you’ve given me life, but a part of me has always carried unnecessary guilt. For my brothers, for Lily, and for not finding her sooner. For everything.”
“Babe, you aren’t to blame for any of that,” she presses slowly.
“I know that now,” I concur softly. “I guess I’ve been letting the fear of being a parent, of being like him, get to me. Then I saw how you handled the birth, and, babe, I’ve never seen anything so powerful in my life. You were… You were…” I run a hand across the stubble along my jaw. “God, I’ve seen brave, I’ve seen strong, but, babe, you were a warrior in there. And I could have lost you. I could have lost you both, and it nearly killed me.” I take a moment to try and form the next words in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a selfish dick, but no matter which way I put it, until it’s explained, I’ll probably sound like a dick. “I would have had regrets.”