Letter #15 Chaos, Iâm so sorry you lost someone. I canât imagine how hard that must be, to grieve and still carry on with what youâre doing. Every time I lost someone, my parents or my grandmother, it always shut me down, like my body couldnât process the enormity of my feelings. It says a lot about the kind of man you are that you can continue to show up, and I mean that in the best of ways.
You say youâre bad with people, that you donât connect, but thatâs not who I see when I open these letters. Or rather, who I hear. Someone who canât connect wouldnât be so open. Heck, they wouldnât have written back in the first place. But you did, and Iâm grateful.
Maybe you simply choose who you connect with, and thatâs okay. I donât think anyone wakes up and decides to be the social butterfly like my brother. Thatâs probably why you two are good friends. You balance each other out.
You know who else I bet youâd connect with? Kids. Maybe not everyoneâs kids, but definitely your own. Have you ever thought about kids? Itâs a random question, but Iâm curious. Probably because I had mine so young, and I canât imagine not having them, I kind of picture everyone I meet with kids.
Except Hailey. Sheâs one of my closest friends, and Iâm sure one day sheâll make a great momâ¦after she successfully adults on her own for a while. Successful being the key word there. I bet youâll love her when you get here. Sheâs gorgeous, and fun, and doesnât picture everyone she meets with kids.
Anyway, I bet youâd be a great dad. Brooding and tough, but also sneaking in Star Wars marathons on lazy weekends. I could absolutely picture itâ¦if I could picture you. Yep, Iâm still hankering for a picture.
I hope I managed to distract you for a few minutes. I hope you know how very sorry I am for your loss.
~ Ella â¦
I stood at the window of the downtown Denver high-rise, looking out over the city. This definitely wasnât a place I could set down roots. Two months in Telluride had taught me that concrete and I werenât compatible in the long-term sense.
Plus, Denver didnât have Ella.
It had been a week since our fight in the truck, and weâd been politeâ¦even friendly. But that easygoing rhythm weâd always had was nowhere to be found. Not with everything hanging between us.
If I wasnât careful, sheâd realize I was in love with her, and then weâd be in even deeper shit.
Iâd never had a woman prick my temper the way Ella did. Hell, Iâd sworn at her. Iâd also never had a woman I cared to see more than once or twice, or one who owned my soul the way she did. Of course Iâd agree to whatever terms she had when it came to the adoption. Not just because I was desperate to save Maisie and protect Colt, but because Iâd give Ella whatever she wanted if it simply made her smile.
And in return, she was giving me a family, as screwed up as the justification was. The kids would be mine, in every way that mattered to me. I could love them, protect them, make sure they had everything they needed. Iâd get Maisie approved for every treatment and make sure Colt knew I had his back every day of his life. Iâd prove myself to Ella, show up until she couldnât doubt me ever again, and then Iâd win her heart.
Until she finds out what you did.
Yeah. That. It didnât matter how hard I tried to ignore it, my secret hung over my head like a guillotine.
At least the kids would be protected when Ella kicked me out. It wasnât like sheâd unadopt the kids or risk Maisie. This was the one way I could fulfill my promise to Ryan and placate my aching heart, knowing one day the past was going to catch up to me.
My cell phone dinged, and I swiped to open the message app.
DONAHUE:Â Updated papers are ready with new dates. You sure about this?
My fingers paused over the keys. I was sure that I wanted Maisie to live, and this was the only means to that end.
GENTRY:Â Yep. But it doesnât mean Iâm coming back.
DONAHUE:Â You keep telling yourself that.
I slid my phone into my pocket, not bothering to reply.
âMr. Gentry,â a voice called out from behind me, and I turned around.
âMr. Danbury,â I answered. So this was Jeff. He basically looked like an overgrown frat boy whoâd been poured into his fatherâs suit. His hair was blond and slicked back, his eyes gray and calculating.
We shook hands, and I quickly took my seat across from him at the conference table, scared that Iâd lose it and crush him for having touched Ella, let alone abandoning her and the kids.
The hell with him. He didnât deserve her, and he sure as hell didnât deserve them.
He adjusted his suit coat, and I did the same, unbuttoning the bottom button. At least Denver had good, fast tailors.
âSo what can I do for you, Mr. Gentry?â he asked.
âI understand youâre the youngest junior partner at your firm.â
âI am. Just graduated law school as a matter of fact.â
âPerks of having a dad with his name on the wall?â I asked, motioning to the firmâs name.
His smile fell. Jeffy-boy didnât like having his silver spoon brought up. Guys like him were all the sameâtheyâd had their cushy lives handed to them, and they despised any speed bump that kept them from the prize. God knew heâd run right over Ella.
âI consider it part-ownership in the family business,â he said with a shrug.
âAh, family. Iâm so glad you brought that up.â I pushed the manila envelope across the table, and he caught it.
âWhat the hell is this?â he asked, scanning the paper.
âYou know what it is, unless that fancy law degree didnât teach you how to read. Sign it.â
He read it again and then put it down slowly. Then I saw it, the look that said he thought he had one up on me now that he knew what I wanted.
âWhat did Ella pay you to do this?â
âIâm sorry?â
âThere has to be a reason. Itâs been years.â
âThere is. Iâm adopting the twins.â
His smirk fell off his preppy face, and his gaze dropped to my hand, looking for a ring. âYou marrying her?â
âI canât see how thatâs any of your business.â
âWell, seeing as youâd like to adopt my kidsââ
All emotion drained from my body in a familiar retreat. The sensation the same as every time I stepped into combat, preparing me to commit unforgivable atrocities.
âTheyâre not your kids,â I said.
âYeah, Iâd beg to differ on that, considering how many times I screwed her in the two months we were married. Small-town girl with a small-town mind just wanted a ring first.â
If Havoc had been here, she would have gone for his throat based on my tension level alone.
âYou might be their biological father, but youâre sure as hell not their dad. Youâve never so much as seen them, spoken to them, or had any interaction. They. Are. Not. Your. Kids. Theyâre mine.â
As soon as the words left my mouth, that sweet pressure was back in my chest, the love I had for them overpowering my instinct to void my emotions.
âSo what exactly is in this for me?â
âAre you serious?â
He shrugged. âConsider it a business transaction. You want something I have. What are you going to give me for it?â
âHow about I tell you what Iâm not going to give you?â
He sat there expectantly while I did my best to keep a level head.
Three things: Maisie. Colt. Ella. They were the reason and the only things that mattered.
âIâm not going to give you the over-two-million-dollar bill for Maisieâs cancer treatments thatâs going to come due in the next year.â
He swallowed but showed no other outward sign of hearing me.
âReason enough? Or we can just add her to your insurance, since youâre so keen on calling them yours. Iâm sure that would go over really well with your dad, considering he told Ella about six months ago that he really didnât care if Maisie lived or died as long as she left him and you the hell alone. Iâm sure that would be great for business if it got out.â
âIs that a threat?â
âNot in the least. Why would I do that when youâre going to sign that release, and your little secretary outside is going to notarize it all nice and pretty?â I leaned back in the chair.
âFine. Iâll sign it.â He ripped a pen out of the cup in the center of the table and scrawled his name across the paper. I didnât relax. Not yet.
âHave it notarized.â
He cursed under his breath but pushed back from the table and barked for his secretary from the doorway. A twentysomething woman in a tight pencil skirt hustled over, signing the bottom of the document and stamping it before running back to her desk.
Jeff shoved the folder at me, and I looked over the document, making sure it had been signed and notarized correctly. I wasnât doing this a second time.
âNow if thereâs anything else?â
I let my smile loose. âYeah. Get your checkbook.â
âExcuse me?â His eyes popped wide in indignation.
âGet. Your. Checkbook. Youâre going to write Ella a check for six years of back support on the kids. Now.â
âThe hell I am. Besides, I just started working last month. What do you want? Thirty percent of nothing?â
âYeah, but your million-dollar trust fund kicked in the minute you attended your first class freshman year of college. So youâre going to write a lovely, fat check to Ella.â
âHow did you know that?â
âNot important. Youâre going to write what you owe her, or Iâm going to take this document to your fiancéeâs dad. What is he? A senator? And then Iâm going to leak it to the press that you not only abandoned those kids, but you left their mother destitute while she struggled to afford the cancer treatments Maisie needs. How do you think thatâs going to play out in the press?â
âYouâd ruin me.â
I took a deep, steadying breath. Even knowing that Maisie had cancer didnât affect this selfish prick. âYeah, thatâs the idea.â
âWhy? Because I ruined Ella? Like she had a future anyway.â
âYou think you ruined Ella? Thereâs no man on the planet who could do that. Donât flatter yourself. The only reason sheâs not here is because youâre not worth her time. Now get your checkbook.â
He left the conference room, returning quickly with his pen poised over an open checkbook. âHow much?â
âWhatever you think itâs worth to keep your future father-in-law happy and your fatherâs name on the wall.â
He scrawled his pen across the check and then flung the paper at me.
The check rustled to a gentle stop right in front of me, and I took it, folding it in half and slipping it into my breast pocket.
âYouâre not even going to look at it?â he squawked.
âNope. Itâs either enough, or itâs not.â I stood, buttoning my suit coat, and headed for the door, file in hand.
âHow did you know about the trust fund?â he asked again, still seated.
I paused, my hand on the door, debating.
What the hell. Why not?
âOh, you know. Small-town people with small-town minds, they have big hearts and bigger mouths. And just for the record, the best thing youâve ever done in your life is walk away from Ella. You never came back to mess with the kids. Iâd keep to that tradition if I were you. I protect whatâs mine.â
I walked away without a second thought, heading for a little army base just outside of Denver. There was another set of papers that needed signing today.
â¦
âBeckett!â Colt flew through the door and launched himself into my arms, like Iâd been gone two weeks instead of two days.
âWhatâs up, little man?â I lifted him into the air, savoring the smell of cinnamon and sunshine as I shuffled the folder in my hands.
âWeâre baking!â
I carried him into the house and was greeted by the same scent. âApple pie?â I asked.
âHow did you know?â
âWell, the only thing that smells that good while itâs baking is apple pie or Little Boy Pie and, since youâre still here, I went with the apples.â
Havoc swirled around my legs in greeting, and I set Colt down to give my girl a little behind-the-ear rub. âGood job,â I told her, knowing sheâd stuck by Coltâs side.
âBeckett!â Maisie called out from the couch.
âHowâs my best girl?â I asked, coming around to crouch next to where she lay. She was pale, her skin nearly translucent. âFeeling okay?â
She shook her head.
âIf you could get her to drink something, Iâd pretty much fork over my soul,â Ella said, coming from the kitchen, a smattering of flour on her forehead.
A pang of yearning blended with pure lust. I wanted this life and this woman. Wanted the freedom to steal her away from the kids for a second and get my hands on her. Kiss her. Touch her. Watch her eyes flutter shut in pleasure. Watch the worry lines fade from her brow.
âApple pie, huh?â
âItâs her favorite, so I thought maybeâ¦â She shrugged.
âWhat do I have to bribe you with to get a few capfuls of Gatorade down you?â I asked Maisie.
She looked up at me, those blue eyes turning deadly serious. âNo more Moana. Get me Star Wars. Itâs not scary.â She shot a little glare in Ellaâs direction.
Ella scoffed, but nodded to okay the transaction.
âDeal. I have the green apple flavor you like at my house. Give me a couple minutes with your mom and Iâll get it, okay?â
âDeal.â
I pulled her blanket up a little farther and followed Ella into her office.
YOU ARE ENOUGH.
The handwritten sign Iâd sent her hung on the bulletin board. Hell yes, she was enough. I was the one who lacked in just about every department. Including the honesty one.
How weird was it to be jealous of yourself? To know another version of you had a piece of the woman you loved?
âHow are her platelet levels?â
âWeâre going into the medical center tomorrow morning for another transfusion. They can do it in Telluride, so at least itâs close.â
I nodded and handed Ella the folder.
Her fingers trembled a little, but she opened it. Then her mouth dropped open. âYou did it.â
âI did. Youâre free. The kids are free.â
âHow?â She read it again.
âIâm very convincing.â
She grinned up at me. âThat, I believe.â
I slipped the check into the folder, letting it fall on top of the document. Her mouth fell open.
âWhat is this?â
âWhat youâre owed.â
She sat back, her butt perched on the edge of her desk. âItâs half a million dollars. Why would he⦠What did you do?â
âGot you a little of the money he should have given you all along.â
She looked up at me, her face a myriad of expressions I couldnât keep up with. âI donât want it.â
âI figured.â
âYou did?â
I nodded. âYou raised them on your own. I figured the last thing youâd do is take the money now. That would give him a feeling of ownership youâd never allow.â
âThen why did you bring it?â
âYou said once that to hurt him I had to hit the money. So I hurt him. I brought you the check because I wonât ever take a choice like that from you. That money could pay off all the debt on Solitude, or pay for treatments for Maisie. Or for their college in the future. I wasnât taking that choice.â
âI donât need it for Maisie, now.â
âNot if you want me to adopt her, you donât. Thatâs another choice I wonât force on you. Iâm not Jeff. And this gives you options. That check means youâre not cornered. You donât have to choose me.â
We stood there, our eyes locked in a silent conversation as she considered. Mine begged her to trust me. To lean on me. To need me even a small percentage of the way I needed her. Hers pondered, weighed, and decided, staying locked with mine as she ripped the check to shreds.
âI choose you. And now Iâm free. Weâre free.â
I grinned because I knew I wasnât free anymoreâI was hersâ¦theirs.