Wethering the Storm (The Storm 2)

Surprised, I look up. “Differently, how?”

He glances down at his hands, and when he speaks, the heartfelt tone in his voice almost breaks me. “To start with, I’d tell you that I love you and that nothing matters to me but you. But I’m afraid. Terrified. God, Tru, the second you told me you were pregnant, my own childhood flashed before my eyes.” He breathes in deeply. “That’s why I ran: because of my own fears, not because I don’t want you or the baby.”

He wants the baby?

“What are you terrified of?” I ask quietly.

“That I’m not good enough to be a dad. That I’ll screw it up. That I’ll fuck everything up. That I’ll turn our child into a fucked-up mess like I am. Just like my dad did to me.”

I’m just about to speak, to protest, to tell him he’s not a fuck-up, that he’s not Paul, he never could be, when he speaks again.

“But while I sat there thinking about all the negatives, I realised something.”

“Which was?” I’m all but on the edge of my seat.

“That I have you,” he says simply. “With you I know I can do it, because you’re my strength, Tru. You make me want to be a better man, a good dad to our baby. The best. And I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of you both,” I hear his voice break before he continues in a quieter tone. “I don’t want to be him, Tru. I don’t ever want our kid to experience what I did growing up, and that’s what will keep me straight. You’ll both keep me straight.”

I see tears staining his cheeks, and my heart shatters.

I choke out a sob. Releasing my seat belt, I throw myself into his lap.

His arms grip me with a vice force, and he buries his face in my neck. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for leaving you.”

“I do. Of course I do. I’m sorry I said I hated you. I don’t. I never could. I was just hurting.”

“Right now, I’d deserve it if you did hate me, but it would break me if you did.”

Lifting his head, he looks at me, and the force of his gaze hits me straight in the heart.

I trace his tears away with my fingertips and kiss over every inch of his face, moving slowly, until he catches my lips with his.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he breathes against my mouth.

“How did you know I was at the airport?”

Moving from me, he rests his head against the headrest. “Jackson called to tell me you’d left in a cab, so I had him call the cab company to find out where they were taking you.”

Ever resourceful. That’s Jake.

I touch my hand to his face, running my fingers into his hair, gently twisting the ebony strands around the tips, and he closes his eyes, content.

Watching him, I hope that our baby looks just like him. I hope it has Jake’s lovely features and beautiful blue eyes and my skin tone. But not my Puerto Rican–size bum.

Then I feel doubt start to creep in again. What if he changes his mind once the baby arrives? I don’t think I could bear his leaving then.

“Jake,” I murmur. He opens his eyes. “Are you absolutely sure this is what you want? The baby, I mean.”

“I’m sure.” His gaze drops to my stomach. “This baby will be made of everything I have loved my whole life.”

“I’m gonna get fat,” I mumble.

“No, you’re going to get even sexier.” Coming close again, he wraps his arms around me tightly, rubbing the tip of his nose against mine. “How could I not want something made up of Trudy Wethers’s DNA?”

“Still Bennett.” I grin. “You haven’t made an honest woman of me yet.”

“You ready to hop that plane to Vegas now?”

“A shotgun wedding. My folks would be so proud.” I laugh.

“What do you want to do about the wedding?” he asks. “Move it forward?”

“That would give me a matter of weeks to plan it. Why don’t we just wait until after the baby is born?”

I see him quickly do the math in his head. “We wouldn’t be able to get married July twenty-first. You okay with that?”

“I’m going to have a mini-Jake soon. Of course I’m okay with that.”

“Or a mini-Tru,” he says. Then his expression suddenly changes. “Fuck, a girl. We might have to lock her up, Tru.”

I scrunch up my face. “Why?”

“Because, if she looks anything like you, I’m one day going to be fighting off horny teenage boys left, right, and centre. I’ll probably end up in jail for beating one to death if I find him with his hands on my baby girl.” He shudders comically.

I let out a laugh. “Let’s hope if we have a boy, he’s doesn’t grow up to be one of those horny teenagers…or God forbid, as horny as you are. Otherwise we’ll have some girl’s dad round here kicking his ass.”

“Then I’ll end up in jail for beating the shit out of the dad—fuck, this is a no-win, sweetheart,” he groans, dropping his head back against the rest. “I’m doomed to a future behind bars.”

Laughing softly, I say, “Don’t worry, baby, we’ll figure a way to keep you out of prison.” I kiss the tip of his nose, then open the door, ready to get out of the car and into the house to bed.

Once inside, I head to the bedroom, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen to take with me.

Smiling, feeling a million times happier than I did the last time I was here, I walk into our bedroom to find Jake still dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed, staring down at something in his hand. He doesn’t look happy.

“You were really leaving me,” he whispers.

My eyes go to his hand, and I see my engagement ring.

Crap.

My face prickles, shame burning it when I see how hasty I was in taking it off.

“I’m sorry.” I take a step toward him. “I was angry, and I thought you didn’t want the baby. I thought we didn’t have a future anymore.”

Jake gets to his feet. Coming over to me, he takes the glass from my hand and puts it down on the bedside cabinet.

He takes hold of my left hand. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck up again, Tru. I’ve tried and failed so many times. Just know that no matter what, I want you both very much.” He slides the ring onto my finger. “I will always want you.”

Taking his face in my hands, I pull him down to me and kiss his lips gently.

He picks me up and carries me to the bed. Turning off the light, Jake lies beside me, pulling me to his side, arms tight around me.

We’re both still dressed, but I sense that right now, Jake doesn’t want to be an inch away from me, just like I don’t from him.

In the dark, Jake’s hand goes to my stomach, rough fingers tracing over the fabric of my dress. “I love you,” he whispers.

For the first time since we got together, I know that declaration isn’t meant just for me. It gives me a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, things will be okay after all.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I wake in Jake’s arms, still wearing last night’s dress.

“Hey,” he says softly beside me.

Turning my face to him, I look straight into his blue eyes.

His black hair is all mussed up from sleeping, but his eyes are wide-awake. He’s been thinking.

Not good.

“How long have you been awake?” I ask, my voice wavering slightly.

“Not long.” He brushes a stray curl from off my forehead.

There’s a moment of still between us.

I don’t know what to say after last night, and it seems neither does Jake.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breaking our silent stare.

Do I need a reason not to be?

“Yes.” I nod, swallowing.

Are you?

Jake closes his eyes, releasing a breath.

What is he thinking? I’m afraid to ask. Afraid he’s changed his mind about the baby.

I watch him, waiting. Opening his eyes, he takes my face in his hand and kisses me.

Deeply. Passionately. Reverently.

It’s a kiss filled with unspoken words, promises, and love. Deep love. The love that has bound us together for nearly three decades.

“We’re having a baby,” I say when Jake’s kiss slows.

“We are.” He tilts his head back, looking into my eyes.

“You’re going to be a daddy.” I can’t read him right now. He’s still holding back from me.

He smiles, but it’s tight. I can see the fear in his eyes that he was hiding a moment ago.

It sparks a pain in my chest. An awful, all-consuming pain.

“Jake, are you…okay?”

“Yeah, just a little—”

“Overwhelmed. Scared. Not ready. Changed your mind,” I blurt out, cutting him off.

He looks puzzled, and then his eyes firm up, his gaze pinning me. “More like ready. Happy. Wanting our baby more than anything.” His hand touches my stomach, and I exhale the breath I was holding. “I’m just worried,” he adds quietly, casting his gaze beyond me.

My stomach tenses under his touch. “About?”

“That the baby isn’t okay.”

“The baby’s fine.” I relax, putting my hand over his, pressing it to my stomach.

“I want you to see a doctor today, Tru.”

“I was planning on going on Monday.”

“It has to be today,” he says tightly. “I’ll get Stuart to arrange it.”

He sits up, turning from me, putting his feet to the floor. I follow, sitting beside him. Turning to face him, I wrap one leg around his front and the other around his back, trapping him.

“Why the rush?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, looking into his face.

Sighing, he meets my eyes for a brief moment, then looks away. “Tru, I’ve spent the last eight years using drugs—the last three, on a daily basis.”

“But you’re clean now,” I input.

“Just over five weeks ago, I wasn’t. Even though I wasn’t using when you got pregnant, those drugs could have still been in my system, and…” He inhales sharply, driving his hand through his hair. He looks down. “I just need to make sure that the baby is okay, that the drugs haven’t had any effect on the baby or caused any long-term damage.” His voice sounds pained.

Fuck. I hadn’t even thought of that. And if Jake’s worried, I need to be too. He never worries unnecessarily.

Afraid but trying to remain positive, I say, “I’m sure the baby will be fine.”

His chest expands on a quick, deep breath. “I’ll believe that when I hear it from a doctor. I need to know today, Tru. Once I know, then I can relax and enjoy this with you.”

I reach over and take his hand, linking our fingers. “Okay,” I say, running my other hand through his soft, inky hair.

Reaching to the bedside cabinet for his phone, he says, “I’ll call Stuart now to make us an appointment with the best pregnancy doctor there is.”

I put my hand on his, stopping him. “They’re called obstetricians, baby. And don’t you think we should tell my folks, and your mum and Dale first, that we’re having a baby, before we tell Stuart?”