He should be with a woman who isn’t afraid to give him kids. Who isn’t afraid of possibly losing someone she loves.
A woman who has lost someone she loves and has come out the other side stronger. Like Olivia has.
14
TROY
August, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I parkmy truck in Jess’s driveway. Nova is passed out in her car seat after the fun we had at the beach. The wind has picked up with the storm rapidly approaching.
“You gonna be okay?” I ask Jess.
She smiles, a teasing spark in her eyes visible in the dim light of the cab. “It’s just a storm. I think I can weather it.”
She leans over the console and kisses me. I make the most of it and capture her mouth, not letting her get away with only a quick peck on my cheek or my lips.
I’m not even halfway satisfied when we pull apart. I could keep on kissing her. And I will once I’ve dropped Nova off at her home.
Jess glances behind me at the sleeping little girl. “You two are adorable together. She loves you.” Jess’s voice catches, and she smiles. It’s not one of her full smiles, but it’s breathtaking all the same.
“I love her too. She’s a sweet kid. It kills me that she doesn’t remember her father.” I took that from Nova when I couldn’t help him. I should have pressed harder for Colt to get help, should have pushed for him to see that real men can go to therapy.
Jess threads her fingers with mine. “That’s not your fault, Troy. What you can do is make sure she continues to feel loved. And when she’s older, you can tell her all about her father.” Jess gently squeezes my fingers, a slight tremor in her touch. “I bet you’ve got tons of funny stories about your time growing up together.”
I nod. Do I ever. “I’m sure if Colton were alive, he wouldn’t want Nova to hear many of them. They’re funny as fuck. Hell, Olivia probably wouldn’t want her to hear them since Olivia was involved in many of the escapades. There’s a reason the three of us earned the nickname The Three Musketeers.”
“Those…those are the best kind of stories. Especially when she’s older. They’ll help keep his memory alive. That, and continuing what you’re doing. Spend a lot of time with her.” Jess releases my hand. “You should probably get her back to her mom.”
“I’ll be right over after I drop her off.” I kiss Jess, taking a little longer than I should, knowing I’ll have a hard time leaving if I don’t go now.
Jess pulls away, gives me a quick smile, and climbs out of the truck. She and Bailey walk along the pathway to the front door. Jess unlocks it, and they go into the house. The porch light flashes on and off, Jess’s signal that she has reactivated the security alarm.
I reverse out of the driveway and drive to Olivia’s house. Thickening storm clouds darken the sky. I arrive to find the living room light on, a glowing strip peeking between closed curtains. I parallel park on the street and let Butterscotch out of the truck.
“Hey, little princess,” I say to Nova. Her eyes remain shut. “We’re home.” She looks so sweet and peaceful. I hate to wake her up.
I unbuckle her seat belt and slide her arm through the harness. Nova blinks her eyes open. “Hey, sleepyhead.”
She was holding her stuffed bunny when I put her in the car seat. Now, it’s half dangling off the seat. I hand it to her.
She grabs her bunny in one hand and stretches her arms to me. I scoop her up, and her arms automatically go around my neck in a hug, her bunny dangling down my back.
Nova rests her cheek on my shoulder. She smells sweet, like fruit and the mountains rolled up in a pint-sized package. I kiss the top of her head, her warm body held snuggly against my chest.
Butterscotch and I make our way along the path to the front door. I open it and step inside. “We’re back,” I call out.
Rock music comes from the kitchen, too loud for Olivia to hear me.
“Should we see if we can make your mommy jump?” It was something I used to enjoy doing when Olivia, Colton, and I were kids. I only had to walk into the room Olivia was in, say something while she was preoccupied, and she would shriek.
Nova shifts in my arms, her head moving from my shoulder, and she looks toward the kitchen. “Yes!” She giggles, but not loud enough for her mom to hear her.
“How was quilting club, Aramis?” I ask, walking into the kitchen.
Olivia is standing at the sink. A startled scream escapes her, and she practically jumps to the ceiling.
