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Authors: Rachael Wade

Declaration (29 page)

BOOK: Declaration
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“I’ll get you some water,” I said, leaning in to brush her hair back. “I would say I’m sorry, Whit, but I’m not. I’m….we’re gonna have another baby! Liz will have a brother or sister. This is great news!”

“Great news?” she shrieked, her voice echoing in the toilet bowl. “Damn it, I’m going to have swollen ankles, morning sickness, the whole shebang again. I’m so not ready for that! This is all your fault!”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” I said carefully, rubbing her back, “but I didn’t hear you complaining that night in the hallway.”

A sound that could only be described as a feral, guttural growl emanated from her throat, the vibrations seeping into her spine.

I stopped rubbing her back and distanced myself, standing to my feet. “I’m going to get that water.” Walking away, never turning my back on the wild bobcat hanging over the toilet, I slipped out of the guest bedroom and back into the thick of the living room commotion. Sam and Jess were here now, and their daughter, Tori, was chasing Elizabeth and Maddox around the tiny dining table. Dean, Crystal, Ryan, and Kate were all arguing about something around the fire, while Sam and Jess were bickering and rifling through a suitcase, up to their knees in clothing and wrapping paper.

Kate did a double take when she caught me standing there, staring at the scene.

“Well?” she asked, moving to meet me, her arms folded over her chest.

“She’s not a happy camper.”

“I would say that’s a tad of an understatement.”

“Shit,” I sighed, my shoulders slumping. “Why can’t she be happy about this?”

“Um…because she’s not ready for another one. She’s been pretty adamant about that. She tells me all the time—”

“Yes,
thank you
, Nanny Campbell. I don’t need the third degree.”

“Well apparently you
do
, because you’ve got one unhappy woman on your hands. Go in there and tell her you’re sorry.”

“Sorry?” My, head jutted back. “I’m not apologizing for that!”

“Do you need me to ask nicely? Because I will.” Kate straightened her shoulders and stuck her nose in the air, like the little smartass she was, and continued. “Please, Carter, will you go back into that bathroom and apologize to your wife for knocking her up again?”

Emma caught that little piece of information, coming to join us. Thankfully, everyone else was still preoccupied, arguing over something to do with eggnog. “Did I just hear what I think I heard?”

“You didn’t hear anything,” I said.

“Is Whit really pregnant? Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

Before I could respond, Maddox bumped into Emma’s leg, thumping to a stop in a fit of laughter. His head fell back to look up at his mom, his thick waves of dark brown hair flopping. “Hafta say ‘please’, Mommy! Member what daddy says? Mind your manners. No swearing, invading space, no forgetting peeeees and quuuues, all that shit!”

The whites of Emma’s eyes bulged, her nostrils flaring. Her hands fisted at her sides. Finally, she shouted. “Jackson Taylor! He said it again!” She spun in the other direction to deliver Jack a glare. He was now arm wrestling Dean over the coffee table, Ryan playing referee.

“Come on, babe, I’m just gettin’ started,” he said through gritted teeth. Dean was kicking his ass, all smiles and cool nonchalance while Jackson struggled. Crystal watched, just as surprised as me that Jackson wasn’t putting Dean’s skinny ass to shame.

“Maddox,” Emma said sweetly, “I’m going to leave you here with Uncle Carter and Aunt Kate, and they’re going to explain to you—
again
—why you cannot say what you just said. Mommy has to go check on Auntie Whitney.” She placed a fake smile on her face and cut past me and Kate, parting us at the shoulders. “Later, Jack! This isn’t over!” she tossed over her shoulder, disappearing into the guest room. Kate crouched down to explain the hypocrisy of Jackson’s no-swearing rule to Maddox, then patted him on the butt, telling him to run along and play with Elizabeth and Tori.

“I think that’s your cue, daddy-o.” Kate smiled smugly and wandered over to the arm wrestling action.

I released a defeated sigh and returned to the guest room, finding Whitney strewn across the bed in a fit of tears, while Emma lay next to her, stroking her hair and soothing her sobs. “Whit,” I said, carefully approaching the bed, “I’m sorry you’re not happy, but I promise you it’s all going to be okay.”

“Of course, it’s going to be okay,” she snapped, her hand flailing around. “For you, maybe! You get to stay all tatted up and pierced in delicious places, while my stomach bloats and I puke for days on end! What if…” her bottom lip started to quiver, and damn, it was the cutest thing ever. “What if you get tired of me? What if a younger, more energetic version of Whitney Sinclair comes along and steals you away?”

That’s when the waterworks really started flowing, and Emma gave up.

Sliding off the bed and hurrying for the door, Emma looked as if she were dodging the beginning of a world war. “Good luck,” she whispered as she slipped past me.

“Whit,” I started again, knowing I needed to reach her this time, “you
are
young, and
very
energetic.” I laughed, unable to keep it down. “And I would never, ever grow tired of you.”

“You don’t know that,” she cried, sniffling through her continuing sobs. Her cheeks were glistening and her nose was bright pink.

“Yes, I do. No one is ever going to steal you away. You’re it for me, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be upset about. You’re beautiful. Beautiful when you’re pregnant, beautiful when you’re not. I know the thought of having another baby overwhelms you, but it’s going to be amazing, I promise you that. I’ll be by your side day and night. Now please, sweetheart, smile for me? I hate seeing you like this.” Getting under the covers to wrap her in my arms, my hand snaked out and wrapped around her forearm, my fingers grazing over her tattoo—the one she’d gotten with me when we first started going out. “I’m like your bird,” I said, tracing the inked image. “I can always fly away when we have a rough day. You know how it is, it happens sometimes. We fight and say things we don’t mean. Things get stressful. Life gets messy. I stay late in the studio and work out my frustration on my guitar, or go play a game of pool at Pete’s. But I always, always fly back home. Because no matter what, at the end of the day, that’s where I’ll want to be. You got that?”

Her big, beautiful eyes found mine. She sniffled, her tears beginning to dissolve. “
Libertas
,” she whispered.


Libertas
,” I repeated, placing a small kiss on her lips. She tasted like fresh toothpaste. “I find it with you. Always.”

“Lock the door,” she said, suddenly shifting to peel her shirt off.

“Whit—”

“Just do it, Montgomery.”

I hesitated for a second more, wondering if we had time. As Whitney’s fingers fumbled with her jean zipper, my concerns vanished. My heart and my cock seemed to like the idea, and Whitney made me a slave to both, so my wits were outnumbered.

Hopping out of bed to quickly turn the door lock, I ripped off my shirt and pants, hurrying back to the bed. Warm conversation, gut-clenching laughter, and the squeals of everyone’s children permeated the bedroom walls, the sounds muffled but comforting. I lowered myself back onto the bed and Whitney rolled me onto my back to take charge. I gladly let her, smirking up at her as she brought her mouth down on my chest to kiss my tattoos.

“Feel good?” she breathed against my skin, her tongue skating down to my torso.

“Yes,” I declared, my hands moving to grip her hair. “Don’t stop, sweetheart.” And I didn’t want her to. I hoped she’d never, ever stop.

 

THE END

A
P
RESERVATION
S
ERIES

C
OMPANION
N
OVEL

A
VAILABLE
N
OW

A gritty coming-of-age drama about a young woman’s self-destructive quest to find purpose, self-worth, and love in a broken world.

 

My name is Elise Duchamp. I’m twenty-three years old and I’m known as the town whore.

No, not the kind who exchanges sexual favors for money. The other kind. The kind who gives it all away for free, whenever and however she likes. I am that girl. The one everyone whispers about and the one none of the girls seem to like, because all of their boyfriends either want to sleep with me or already have. Promiscuity is my thing—the kind that slowly, violently turns my insides black, but gives me something I need.

All things considered, I’m not completely reckless. I’m safe, and contrary to popular opinion, I do have a heart. I live in a world of careless choices, and with those choices come careless people. I cannot judge them, because I am one of them. I too bow down to the altar of the self-serving. I am not a good friend. I am not and never could be anyone’s girlfriend. I’m convinced any goodness in me shriveled up and died long ago.

But I am a replacement. That is something I know how to be, and this is a story of the lengths I’d go to in order to keep it that way.

Table of Contents

Declaration

Prologue

1. Alien

2. Wild Ballerina

3. Team Work

4. Competition

5. Volume

6. Soggy Crumpets

7. Battle Scars

8. Spark

9. Progress

10. Thorns

11. Spider Webs

12. Caution

13. Mirrors

14. Fingerprints

Epilogue

BOOK: Declaration
5.79Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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