“Fantastic,” Reece muttered, trying to squeeze the sarcasm out of his voice and hearing he failed. “Later.”
“Later,” Reece heard before he disconnected, tossed his phone on his dash, started his truck, and headed home.
Chapter Eleven
Worthy of You
I watched as the coffee mug smash against the wall, coffee splashing everywhere.
Then I ran straight to the door of the kitchen.
I didn’t get there.
An arm caught me at my belly, my breath went out of me in a whoosh, and I found myself going backward.
Ham pinned me against the counter, his front tight to mine, his hands on the counter on either side of me, his head tipped deep to me, his face full of pain.
For me.
“Calm down, baby,” he whispered.
“My sister’s dead,” I whispered back.
“Stick with me, cookie.”
“My sister’s dead,” I repeated.
“Zara. Honey. Stick with me.”
“My sister’s dead!” I shrieked, watched him wince, and dissolved into body-wracking, throat-burning, uncontrollable tears.
Ham’s arms closed around me.
My legs gave out. I slid down his front and fell to the floor.
Ham came with me, shifting to his ass. His legs spread and cocked at the knees, he pulled me between them, my chest against his. He wrapped one of his arms around me tight. His other hand was in my hair, forcing my face into his neck.
I wrapped both of my arms around him, held strong, and sobbed.
I’d known this day would come. In the beginning I waited, hoping it would come. Last night I understood deep down that it actually had come.
Even so, I was totally unprepared for it.
Ham held me close for a long time and when my tears went from wild and uncontrolled to the kind that settled in for a long time, quieter and punctuated by hiccoughs, he moved. Getting to his feet and taking me with him, he lifted me cradled in his arms and carried me to the living room.
He sat on the couch and then stretched out, arranging me on top of him, all the while holding me close.
We settled silently and I focused on something else and that something else didn’t make the tears go away.
“My nephew really lives with my aunt Wilona?” I asked.
“It’s true, darlin’.”
“My aunt is a bitch,” I told him.
Ham had no response.
“He’s been there for nine years.”
Again no response from Ham.
“My dad’s such a dick,” I shared.
That got a response.
“That he is, cookie.”
I pulled in a deep breath through my nose and on the exhale relaxed into him.
“I don’t believe this,” I whispered.
“I don’t either, baby,” Ham whispered back.
I put a hand in the couch at the back, lifted up, and used my other hand to swipe at my face as I looked down at him.
There was pain in his face still. Pain for me. But it was now mingled with sorrow.
Sorrow for me.
If I didn’t already love this man, looking at his handsome face showing plain all the feelings he was feeling for me, I would have fallen in love.
But I loved this man. It was just that, right then, I loved him more.
“His name is Zander?” I asked.
“That’s what Mick says,” he answered.
My eyes drifted to the armrest his head was lying on and I remarked, “Dad named him. That’s for sure. He got that shit from Grandpa Val. Crazy-ass names.”
“Zara’s the most beautiful name I ever heard,” Ham stated and my eyes flew to him as my chest expanded. “He’s a dick but he named you sweet, baby. And, you find a way not to give him credit, Zander is pretty kick-ass, too.”
Right then, I loved Ham even more.
So much I couldn’t express it and I couldn’t cope with it, so I dropped my head so my forehead was resting on his chest.
“Now that you got your shit tight, cookie, I’ll tell you the rest,” Ham said.
“Oh God,” I moaned into his chest.
He slid his hand to curl around the back of my neck. “This is the good part, darlin’.”
I lifted up to look at him. “There’s a good part?”
“Yeah. When I was in town, after I learned this shit, got pissed, had to walk it off. I saw Nina’s offices, paid her a visit, and she made time for me.”
I was confused. What did Nina have to do with anything?
“I don’t get it,” I told him.
Ham gave it to me.
“Hired her to start custody proceedings to get Zander.”
My heart lurched before it swelled, hope pushing out anguish.
Back then, I’d wanted my sister’s baby. With my sister all but gone, I wanted a piece of her, especially a precious piece that she’d made. We’d had it tough, we’d stuck together through it, and after we escaped, but when we got older, she fell apart. Drugs. Booze. Meaningless hookups. She went off the rails and did it with flair.
That didn’t mean I didn’t always love her.
Xenia returned the favor.
She pulled herself together, though that didn’t mean she still didn’t f**k up. With my help, we got her into a program. She said sayonara to the drugs and booze but unfortunately kept up with the meaningless hookups and got herself knocked up.
When she’d learned she was pregnant and decided to keep the baby, we’d both been cautiously excited, considering our history—especially hers. I was looking forward to having a nephew. I was looking forward to helping Xenia right past wrongs.
Then it all went to shit.
If I’d had the money, the stability, the maturity, and the strength to fight my dad back then, I would have taken Xenia’s baby on. I didn’t fool myself it wouldn’t be tough but I wanted that piece of my sister and I wanted her, wherever she was, to know I was taking care of her boy.
But I also knew that couples without the ability to have babies could give him a life maybe better than the one I could give him. I also knew my dad would see me a quivering mess and beaten so low I couldn’t stand before he gave up. And last, I feared that even if I won him, Dad would find ways to f**k with me, and the baby. I also knew the ways my father could f**k with someone, and none of them were pleasant.
So I hated it but I let him be put up for adoption.
To get him safe, in a good, stable home with good people who would love him, I struck the deal.
Now I had my second chance.
Then my heart plummeted because I might have maturity but the money and stability were in even more of a shambles than they’d been back then.