“I’m in love with this kid, too.” Seth held his side while trying to rein in his laughter after Collin told him about Wes hosing him down outside when he accidentally pooped his pants.
“I not do dat again.” Collin shook his head with his eyes rounded.
Sophia put together a pasta bake while Collin entertained them. After they shared the meal and took a walk on the beach, the two of them called it a night and headed out.
Wes cleaned the kitchen, enjoying the sounds of the ocean filtering in through the open windows, while Seth showered. He thought back over the last month, trying to see it from Seth’s perspective, but only felt a sense of accomplishment over it. Sophia had finally relented and gone out on a few more dates with him, but they no longer felt forced. And more times than not, on the weekends she and Collin ended up over at his house after visiting next door.
He felt a great bit of pride over the fact that Sophia’s appetite had been restored and that Collin giggled more than he frowned. He’d prayed for them and then put legs to his prayers and had witnessed the mother and son come to life right before his very eyes. It was the first time in years he’d been hopeful about anything.
In that instant, the memory of how he’d almost ruined it pinched the back of his neck. Rotating his shoulders a few times, he reassured himself for the hundredth time that he had stopped himself just before kissing Sophia that night on his deck. He blamed it on all of the talk about Claire. He blamed it on his loneliness. He blamed it on a lot of things since then, but the truth of the matter . . . he liked having her in his arms. Liked having her company. He simply liked her, and he had no idea what to do with all that liking.
A barstool scraped against the floor from behind him. “So are you ready to talk about it?”
Wes rinsed a glass and set it in the dish rack. “Don’t know what you’re referring to.” He fished the plug out of the sink and watched the sudsy water drain out, not wanting to face the concern he knew he would find in Seth’s eyes.
“They seem right at home here. It certainly didn’t look fake to me.”
Wes steeled himself and turned around. Crossing his arms, he leaned against the counter and met his brother’s stare. Seth had his cheek propped in the palm of his hand, his wet hair flopping onto his creased forehead.
“The dating part is fake. The platonic friendship is real.” Wes sighed. “I thought you’d be happy about that. You’re the one who wanted me to get a life.”
“You’re right. I’ve pushed you to do just that for a few years now, but what I’ve seen today . . . man, I gotta be straight with you, I’m worried. It’s like you’ve clung to them like a pretend family.”
“It’s not that. I promise.”
“But you see where my concerns are coming from, right? You went from recluse to playing house overnight.”
“You’ve not been here. It didn’t happen overnight. And I have enough sense to know Sophia and Collin aren’t mine. Mine were taken from me four years ago today.”
Seth straightened and shook his head. “I know. I hate this for you and . . . just please don’t get hurt.”
“I’m trying . . .” As predicted, Wes got still and the anniversary of losing his world caught up with him. All the hurt he’d been pushing down bubbled up and sent a stream of hot tears trickling down his cheeks.
As Wes’s shoulders began to shake and the flood of grief engulfed him, he barely noticed Seth making his way around the island. His brother embraced him in a hug that was firm and filled with compassion. It was the strength needed to support him from falling apart. Wes gave in to the grief as his legs buckled and sent both of them to the floor.
And just like that, Wes was reliving the nightmare—one that would never remove its talons from his soul, no matter how many years passed. . . .
“I’m fat and miserable and my gut is almost too big to fit behind this steering wheel,” Claire’s voice whined through the speakers of Wes’s car. Her little rant made him want to laugh, but after eight months of dealing with his pregnant wife he knew better.
Instead, he grinned at himself in the rearview mirror.
She’s so dang cute.
Yeah, and you’re one lucky son of a gun.
I know.
He moved his attention back to the road as the traffic light turned green. “Perhaps it’s time you get your sweet behind still somewhere then.” His grin widened to epic proportions, knowing she wouldn’t take too kindly to his tease.
“I’m too busy for such mess as sitting still, and you better watch it, buddy.”
Claire was one of those resilient beauties who only grew still when sleeping. Her athletic build was perfect for her two passions: horseback riding and softball. The bounty of ribbons and trophies from high school and college proved she was quite talented at both. Nowadays she had moved on to coaching, but that kept her just as busy.
“Would you forgive me if I promised to be your personal chauffeur and be at your beck and call?” Wes glanced over his shoulder before changing lanes. Rush hour was upon him and the traffic was thickening.
“How on earth would you be able to pull that off?” Claire asked. He could hear her changing radio stations.
“Leave the radio alone and focus on the road, dear.” He laughed when she mumbled a tart reply, and then gave her his news. “As of today, I’m officially on paternity leave.” He rolled to a stop at another light, noticing heavy clouds moving in.
Claire squealed. “Really?”
Wes chuckled. “Really. It’s time you and I slow down and focus on preparing for Luke to make his debut.”
“I can’t wait,” Claire said softly.
Warmth settled in his chest as he pictured the beautiful smile he heard in her voice. She had glowed with health and happiness in the last several months. They both looked forward to her being in that condition on a regular basis until their four extra bedrooms were filled with children.
“Oh!” She sounded startled.
“What?” He began to panic but settled down when she let out a giggle.
“Your son just kicked the tater out of me.”
“That’s my boy.” Pride flooded him. He was so in awe over Claire growing them such a strong boy. The doctor was estimating him to be at least a nine-pounder at birth.
“Ugh, it’s starting to rain cats and dogs,” Claire said. He heard the sound of heavy rain followed by the whirl of windshield wipers coming to life on her end of the phone.
“Are you almost home?” Wes asked. He knew she’d spent the afternoon at the horse stable giving a riding lesson. It was only a fifteen-minute drive from their home out in the country.
“Yes.”
“Good. Once you get there, take a nice relaxing bath and I’ll be home shortly to rub your feet.” Sadly, he had at least another thirty minutes left of his forty-five-minute commute.
She moaned. “Hmm, I’m such a lucky girl. Hurry up!”
Wes chuckled again. “We should hang up and concentrate on driving. I love you.”
“Okay, you sweet, sexy man.” Claire’s flirting drove him crazy in only the best way and he couldn’t wait to get home to her. “I love—”
You should have followed her last spoken word. Not the scream.