Dirty, Reckless Love (Boys of Jackson Harbor 3)

. For a life so different than the one I believed I needed to hide from.

Levi leads the way through the house, flipping on the lights in each room and quietly letting me look around before moving to the next space. When we get to the bathroom, he pulls back the shower curtain and grins at me. “Always have to check behind the curtain.”

I relax a little and move the rest of the way down the hall. I hit the lights to my bedroom but freeze when I catch a glimpse of the other bedroom from the corner of my eye.

I walk into it slowly. The crib. The cartoon animals on the walls.

I feel as if I’ve been hollowed out.

I grip the front of the crib, my knuckles turning white as I hold on tight to something I’ve already lost.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” I shake my head. “This is the hardest part. There was a baby growing inside me, and I failed to protect it.”

“That’s not true.” His words are rough, almost angry. “None of this was your fault.”

Slowly, I turn and meet his eyes. “Do you know that for sure?”

“You would’ve done anything for your child.”

“The doctor in Dyer said there’s a chance I’d have miscarried anyway, that there’s no way of knowing the assault caused the miscarriage.” I stroke the fluffy yellow blanket draped over the side of the crib. “But here we are.”

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.” His eyes flick around the room—to the crib, the walls, the little clothes hanging in the closet. “So sorry.”

I was only sixteen weeks along the night of the assault. Only sixteen weeks when I lost the baby. I’m surprised we already decorated the nursery and bought clothes. Were we just that excited? Did we decorate before or after the breakup? Before or after I slept with Levi?

I turn to him and meet his sad eyes. “I know I was sixteen weeks pregnant, but I don’t even remember enough to know if it was Colton’s baby.” I swallow hard. “Or yours.”

He draws in a ragged breath. “It wasn’t mine.” He holds my gaze, tenderness in his eyes. “You were already pregnant when we . . .”

So why did I sleep with you? “Was I happy to be pregnant?”

His jaw works for a beat, and I can tell he doesn’t want to answer.

“The truth,” I say.

“You were scared to do it alone. It wasn’t in your plans, and you weren’t sure you were ready.”

I press my free hand to my stomach and scan the room. “I think I was trying to do the right thing.”

“Of course,” he says. He steps forward and takes my hand off the crib, squeezing it. “You were scared and not ready, but you were going to be a great mom.”

I look down at our joined hands. Mine looks so small in his. This touch feels so good that I want to curl into him and feel the security of his embrace.

I close my eyes and pull my hand away. I’m sorry, Colton.

I leave the nursery, and Levi follows me into the hall without a word. I shut the lights off and pull the door closed. It clicks, and I bite back a gasp of pain. The sound feels like punctuation at the end of a chapter I never got to experience.

“Christ,” he murmurs, pulling me against him.

I press my face into his chest, hiding the hot tears on my cheeks. I give myself the count to ten to let my grief own me. To let him comfort me. Because there are baby clothes in the closet and animals on the walls. Because Colton is missing and so are all the answers I need. Because I’ll never get to wake up in the middle of the night and scoop a warm little bundle from that crib and into my arms.

“Crap.” I step back, gently pushing him away. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re allowed to cry.” He lifts his hand to my face and drops it before touching me. “You’re allowed to grieve.”

“I know.” I nod, but I don’t really believe it. On some level, I’m responsible for all of this. The Discovery collection. My art. Nelson McKinley. The pieces are tied together, and while everyone is busy either blaming Colton for hurting me or for bringing trouble to my door, the opposite is true. “Thanks for coming over.”