“I know it sounds silly. But, everyone needs someone fighting in their corner, Blake. I’ve never had that, and neither have you. You own my heart and everything that comes with it.”
My eyes burn at the power behind her words. I squeeze them shut, forcing back the wave of emotion that’s making it impossible to breathe. I blink against the emotion. I own her heart. And no one has ever possessed mine like she does.
Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the little drawstring bag that I’ve been carrying around since Valentine’s Day. I fumble with the tie and fish out the delicate chain inside. “Give me your hand.”
Her lips part and tilt with a smile. “Is that—”
“It’s your Valentine’s Day present. I never got the chance to give it to you.” I hook the bracelet with the dangling heart pendant around her tiny wrist. “My heart belongs to you, Mouse. It belonged to you well before I was able to admit it.”
She flips her wrist slowly, admiring the shining silver against her skin, and fingers the heart. “It’s gorgeous, Blake. I love it.” Her eyes move back to mine, and her arms hook around my waist. “I love you.”
I kiss the top of her head. “I love you too, baby.”
“Take me home.”
“Yeah, but um… stay here while I grab your shoes. I know your feet get cold.”
She shakes her head and melts deeper into my chest. “Don’t need them. My feet have never been warmer.”
Epilogue
Three months later…
Layla
Seventeen. My baby is seventeen.
The sun has dropped behind the Vegas mountains, and Ataxia is warming up on the makeshift outdoor stage that’s set up by the pool.
It was Blake’s idea to give her a rock ’n’ roll pool party. Insisting that I sit back and enjoy the party rather than waiting on a crew of hungry teenagers and a handful of professional fighters, he hired caterers. He even went as far as to send out notices to all the condos in the complex and let them know they were more than welcome to come.
Nothing’s too good for my girls.
Axelle and I have become accustomed to the phrase. Since we moved in, he’s spoiled us rotten. And this party is no exception.
“So do you know what it is?” Eve asks, leaning in from her seat across the table.
Blake made a big deal about his birthday gift for Axelle. I told him the party was enough. He disagreed.
“Yeah, he’s going to sing her a song.” I take a sip of my soda, hoping it’ll help calm my nervous stomach.
“Aw, that’s so sweet.” Raven’s eyes glisten, and Jonah pulls her closer to his side with a sympathetic smile.
“He better not think of leaving fighting for music. The guy rips, but he’s got his rematch against Wade coming up and needs to keep his head in the game,” Jonah says, watching the stage.
“He’d never give up fighting. All he talks about is his fight with Wade. Now that all the steroid stuff’s been cleared up, he’s excited to get back to work.”
A chord from an electric guitar blares through the amp and ends our conversation. The small birthday crowd gathers close to the stage. Blake and Rex are standing up front, each one with a guitar slung low on their hips. My stomach tumbles with excitement.
I haven’t seen Blake take a stage since that night at The Blackout. Since then, he’s opened up his music room permanently, and even went as far as to move his piano out into the living room. He plays constantly. Usually with me lounging on the couch listening, or sitting on the piano bench at his side. Axelle’s taken an interest in guitar, and Blake has been working with her, teaching her the different chords. He’s mentioned he has a surprise for her tonight. My guess is it’s her own guitar.
“Hey everyone, thanks for stopping by to celebrate with us tonight.” Blake’s deep voice rumbles through the speakers, and the crowd of girls and guys chant Axelle’s name. “Kiddo, come up front here. There’s something I need to say.”
Rex’s guitar starts playing, and most of the older people around the pool scream their excitement at hearing the familiar song.
“Oh my gosh.” Raven’s voice filters through my stunned stare.
“The guy’s a stud,” Eve says, and whistles loud.
My eyes well up with tears. “It’s perfect.”
Blake steps up to his mic and joins in playing the lead guitar part to Guns N’ Roses’s “Sweet Child of Mine”.
The teenagers crowded around the stage probably have no idea who GNR is or that Axelle was named after the lead singer. Only a small group of people around know the meaning behind the song. And something tells me that only Blake knows his intention for playing this song to her tonight of all nights.
Blake and Rex harmonize, dropping key and growling out the lyrics much deeper than Axl Rose was capable of singing. My heart hammers behind my ribs. I lean left, right, but can’t see Axelle. I have to know what she’s thinking. I need to see her face.
I make my way from the poolside table to the stage and smile at the shouted encouragement of my friends left at the table.
Rounding the crowd of kids and the few adults, I find Axelle up front. Dead center. My breath catches in my throat, and I curl my lips between my teeth to keep from sobbing. Her head is tilted back, her eyes shining and fixed on Blake as he belts the words directly to her. She sways to the music. Killian is at her side, watching her face just as intently as I am.
The song breaks for the infamous guitar solo. I can’t take my eyes off Blake as his fingers dance across the guitar strings. His head’s down, strong legs open slightly and bent at the knees. He bites his lip in concentration as the guitar solo that puts Slash to shame ignites the crowd’s applause.
My own personal rock star.
I drag my eyes away and catch Rex watching Blake. He’s shaking his head, no doubt blown away once again by the natural gift that his friend possesses. It’s amazing, and a shame that he kept it hidden as long as he had.
Looking back and forth between the stage and Axelle, I watch, captivated, until the song slows and comes to an end. Everyone erupts in applause, and Rex says something to Blake, the excitement on his face obvious.
“Happy seventeenth birthday, kiddo,” Blake says into the mic. “That was part one of my gift to you.” He pulls an envelope out of his back pocket. “Here’s part two.”
“What?” I advance toward the stage, curious. He said he was going to play her a song—he didn’t say anything about an envelope. Is it money?
She reaches up and takes the gift from his hand. I swing my gaze from Blake’s nervous face to Axelle’s curious one as she opens a letter. Her eyes scan whatever’s written there, and her lip starts to quiver. Oh, God. Is it bad? What did he give her?
I push my way to her just as she covers her mouth with her hand.
“Axelle, what is it?” I say, and try to read the paper over her shoulder.
As if I’m not even there, she crushes the paper to her chest, shaking her head and gazing up at Blake.
He squats down to meet her eyes. “What do you think? Will you allow me the honor of being your dad?”
Oh my God!
She whimpers and takes a long deep breath, pulling her hand from her mouth. “But… I’ll be eighteen in a year. It’d only be for one year, and…” She tilts her head, squinting. “Are you sure?”
“Doesn’t matter to me if you’re seventeen or seventy-seven. If I could hand pick a daughter, I’d pick you. Every time.” He climbs down and pulls her into his arms, and she lets go of her tears. “I love you, Axelle Rose. We have a pretty kick-ass opportunity here. We get to choose who we claim as family. I choose your mom, and you. It’s your life, and I’ll be here for you no matter what you decide. It’s your choice.”
He must hear my crying, because he looks over and holds out his arm. I rush into his embrace, wrapping my arms around the two people I love most in the world, and thanking God for every single thing, all the bad and the mistakes, everything that brought me to where I am.
Axelle nods into his chest. “Yes, Blake. I say yes.” Her arms go tight around his waist. “I choose you.”
Blake
Safe to say that this night couldn’t get any better. Ataxia has been playing for the last hour, and the kids have been dancing and singing along. Axelle hasn’t stopped smiling once since I sang for her. I know because I’ve been checking. My daughter. I have a daughter. The thought pulls my lips into a grin I can’t tame.
“Baby, we are not naming our kid Eugene.” Jonah’s been playfully arguing with his wife over baby names.
“We have to at least consider it. It’s Guy’s middle name,” Raven says, and shoves a fist full of corn chips in her mouth.
“The f**k we do.” He runs his hand over her swollen belly. “That’s my baby growing in that sexy body. If it’s a boy, we name him Ryan, after my dad.”
“Right, Ryan Eugene,” she says through a cheek full of chips.
“What if it’s a girl?” I throw the question out there, and then look over my shoulder wondering where the hell my woman is. She said she was running upstairs to grab a sweatshirt, but that was forty-five minutes ago.
Before Layla and Axelle moved in with me, I had no idea how long it took a woman to put herself together. Now I’m convinced that women spend at least half their lives involved in some kind of beautification ritual. But almost an hour to put on a sweatshirt? Huh…
“If it’s a girl, that’s easy.” Raven shrugs, licking her fingers. “Bertha.”
Jonah and I cringe simultaneously.
“Shit, woman. You’re naming a baby, not a car.” I lean to see past the crowd of kids currently surrounding Axelle. No sign of Layla anywhere. A flicker of panic rolls my stomach. What the f**k is keeping her? “Good luck with the baby names, bro.” I clap Jonah on the shoulder. “Sounds like you’re f**ked.”
He pulls his wife into his arms and feeds her a bite of his food. “I love Bertha, baby. It’s perfect.”
“Ew, Jonah,” she says around a mouthful. “I was kidding.”
Unable to sit still another second, I let them know I’ll be right back and head up to check on Layla. I tell myself that she’s on the phone with her parents or stuck talking to a neighbor, but there’s a voice in my head that reminds me of Valentine’s Day. Warning me that what I have is too sweet to be real, and that I could lose it if I don’t pay close enough attention. I quicken my pace until I’m at my condo.
She’s not in the kitchen, living room, or front deck. I move down the hallway to our bedroom. It’s empty, but the bathroom door is shut. I knock twice and stick my ear to the door. “Mouse? You okay?”
The toilet flushes. “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.” The faucet runs, and I hear what sounds like her spitting.
I’m about to knock again, this time more forcefully, when the door opens. She smiles up at me, but her face is pale as hell. “Sorry. My stomach feels off.” She moves into my arms and slumps in my hold.