Never Been Ready (32 page)

"Nothing...if your name is Gollum!" I exclaimed.

Before I could let out another laugh, I was thrown over his shoulder, and we were in a dead run toward the bedroom.

"Declan, put me down!"

"Nope, you have officially hit your pain-in-the-ass quota for the day, and you must be punished!"

"I don't have a quota! And it was your cheeseball line, not mine!"

He threw me down onto the bed and pinned me beneath him, his chest heaving and his eyes bright with laughter and heat.

"You're crazy," I said.

"Maybe, but just about you."

He'd been like this all week —happy and full of boyish energy. He had his son finally, all of him, and I could see the weight being lifted off of Declan's shoulders minute by minute. But there were also times I'd seen him struggle, and I didn't know how to help. I'd see him staring at me from across the room with a pained look, but then he'd quickly look away and distract me with questions about work or the family before I could ask him what was wrong. Whatever he was trying to overcome, I only hoped he would share it soon because a female's mind was a powerful thing. Mine was already running wild with a million different reasons for his hot and cold mood swings and none of them were good. Life had just thrown us a new curve ball with Connor, and I could only hope we were strong enough to stabilize.

Our lovemaking started off playful and teasing. He nipped my shoulder, and I laughed. I pinned him beneath my thighs and gave him a show as I tore off my shirt and twirled it around in the air before letting it fly across the room. With Declan, there were a million different ways to make love, and I never seemed to get enough of any of it. He'd take me fast and hard, long and slow, or with a playful leisure that made me fall for him all over again.

When he entered me, hovering over me, with his fiery eyes locked on mine, I saw his playfulness melt away. He bent down and kissed my lips gently at first as if he were trying to savor the taste forever. Once locked into memory, he consumed me in a fevered kiss that hinged on the side of frantic.

Slipping one arm under me, he lifted me up against his hard chest, making the angle ever so deep, bringing our bodies even closer. I looked into his eyes and saw desperation, like at any moment he was afraid I would slip through his fingers like sand.

"Please," he begged, "don't ever leave me."

"I won't leave you, Declan."

"Promise it," he said roughly as his body continued to master mine.

I felt the familiar flutter deep in my belly, and I knew I wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"I promise," I cried out as my body shook, sending waves of pleasure ricocheting through me.

Declan followed, letting out his own release, as mine continued to spasm around his shaft. He looked into my eyes, his own so full of love and adoration. I felt unworthy of such deep emotions.

"You're mine, Leah. Forever."

"Yes, and you're mine. Forever."

I fell asleep in his arms as I had every night. I couldn't help but wonder what had brought on his desperation, his need for promises.

Where did he think I was going?

~Declan~

The next morning, I awoke before the sun broke over the horizon. The room was still dark and gray. Leah was curled against my side, her breathing quiet and even, and her honey-colored hair was splayed wildly across my chest. I very rarely awoke before she did. As a nurse, she worked odd hours, and usually, she woke up before the sun did. Moments like this, I treasured. She looked softer and innocent when she slept, giving every ounce of trust to me as I held her through the night.

This week had been one of the best and worst of my life. I'd spent hours doing research on proving paternity and obtaining custody, and I had spoken with Sarah and Devin. They were in agreement with me, and they'd fully supported my decision. As much as they loved Connor, they wanted him to be happy, and they believed that I could provide that for him. Even though it wasn't what Heather wished, Sarah felt a child should be raised by a loving parent whenever possible. I was so incredibly touched by their willingness and dedication to Connor. At any point in this journey, they could have slammed the door in my face, and that would have made everything a giant mess.

I hadn't said a word to Leah. Through so many phone calls, research, and paperwork, I hadn't told the one person I cared about the most —the woman I lived with and loved with my entire being.
Why?
I was scared to death.
What would she say? Would she hate me for making such a huge decision without her? Was she ready to be a mother?
She could leave me. I couldn't live without her, but I couldn't ignore my duties as a father. I couldn't treat my son the way my father had treated me.

"Declan," Leah said, her voice soft and sleepy, "what are you doing awake?"

"Couldn't sleep," I simply stated.

"Are you okay?" she asked, lifting her head to meet my gaze.

"I want Connor."

"We get to see him this weekend," she encouraged, bending down to gently kiss my shoulder.

I should have said something. I should have talked to her before I contacted anyone. She should have been my first priority after Connor, but I'd panicked.

"I don't mean it like that. I mean, I want custody of him. I want all of him, all the time. I can't keep saying good-bye," I said without looking at her, afraid of her reaction.

Did she expect this? Would she be angry? God, I'd never been so fucking scared in my life.

"Say something," I whispered in the darkness.

"What do you want me to say?"

"That you won't leave me; that you'll stay."

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"Yes, this is a lot to ask of you. We aren't even married, and I'm asking you to be a mother to my child. How can I do that?"

"Declan, look at me."

I turned finally, and I saw none of the reactions I'd expected. Her eyes were not filled with anger or rejection. She wasn't turning to run or flee. She looked at me with nothing but love and compassion, reminding me of all the reasons I'd fallen for her. She was selfless in every way.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not going anywhere. Am I scared that I won't be enough for him? Yes. I've worried about it every day since I saw that picture in your drawer. Since I was a child, I never planned on having children because I figured, after the upbringing I had, I could never be the type of mother any child deserved. What does a motherless child know about raising another?"

"You don't have anything to worry about. Don't you see it?" I asked, grasping her chin in my hand. "You're already there. You've been doing it ever since Connor came barreling down those stairs that first day...hell, ever since you sat with him in that hospital. Who do you think I've been learning from all these months? You might not be his mother, but that child adores you."

"I just...I don't know. I will always, always doubt myself," she whispered. "Why did she have to leave me, Declan? Why?"

It always came down to her mother. Every fear she had stemmed from the fact that she believed there was something innately wrong with her. Leah had come to the conclusion that this is the only reason her mother would have left.

I hadn't wanted to share this with her yet because I wasn't done with my investigation, but she needed it. She needed to know what I'd found since that day I sent her father packing.

"Get up," I commanded.

"What?"

"Get up, and put on your robe. We're going up to the attic."

"Why?" she scoffed.

"I have something I need to show you."

Five minutes later, she had her robe and signature fuzzy slippers on, and she was climbing the ladder to the attic.

"I hate this fucking ladder, Declan, so whatever is up here better be good." I gave her a quick kiss and a slap on the ass pointing to the ladder. She groaned, but started climbing and I followed behind.
I won't lie —I checked out her ass the entire way up.

As soon as we made it through the tiny entrance, we stood, or crouched rather, as Leah took an appraising gaze over the dimly lit space.

"Okay, you want to tell me what we're doing up here, Hotshot?"

"Before we sold your dad's house, I had him give me everything that belonged to your mother," I said, motioning to a small box near the Christmas decorations.

There hadn't been much, but what was there was enough to make a major impact on Leah's life.

"What? Why would you do that?" she asked, staring at the box as if it were going to jump up and attack.

"I wanted to know if there was anything else...anything we could find out about her to give you closure," I explained.

"But why are you just now telling me this?"

"I hired a private investigator who was going to go deeper and try to look up court documents. I wanted his work to be finished before I told you anything, but I think you need to know now."

"Need to know what?" she asked, taking a step toward the box and then a step back.

She was warring with herself, unable to decide if she wanted to open Pandora's box or leave well enough alone.

In less than ten seconds, she would have her answer.

"Your mother didn't abandon you."

My words hit her like a gust of wind. Her knees shook before she quickly knelt, planting herself on the ground. I quickly joined her on the dusty wood floor and took her hand.

"What?"

"From what I can gather from the letters she sent your father, she tried to sneak the two of you out of the house one night, but your father caught her. She didn't love your father. She got caught in a bad situation and wanted out. She tried to save you both. When he found her, he kicked her out, saying he'd kill her if she ever came back. I think he kept you as a sick way of getting back at her. She left that night, but she never gave up on trying to get you back."

Leah couldn't speak.

After a few minutes, she said, "My whole life I thought she'd left because I'd done something or because I hadn't been good enough. But she'd left to protect me. I remember...I remember that night she left. She paused at my bedroom door on her way out. I always found it strange, but it suddenly makes so much sense. She loved me?"

"Yes, babe, she loved you. She spent the rest of her life trying to get you back until she died a few years later of pneumonia."

"But who put up the gravestone for her?" she asked.

"That's been a hard one. I was hoping there was a family member, someone you could reach out to, but the investigator says the plot was purchased by a woman who worked at the hospital your mother died in. She probably took pity on her and wanted her to have a nice burial plot."

"I can't believe you did this," she said, "I would have never known. My father never told me."

I kissed her forehead and then her cheek, kissing away the tears that stained her skin. "Now, you have no reason to doubt yourself. Your mother loved you. But even if she hadn't, you have enough love to overcome anything."

She threw her arms around me and cried tears of joy and relief. Years of thinking she was less than worthy of a mother's love evaporated in an instant because of a small cardboard box. Why her father had kept it, I would never know, but that small box saved a part of Leah, and to me, it was a miracle.

"Thank you, Hotshot," she said, pulling back to give me a weak smile.

Giving a quick grin, I replied, "Anytime, muffin."

~Leah~

"Oh my God, Connor. My feet are going to fall off, and then you will have to carry me all the way home," I whined as we entered the fifth store of the day in search of the perfect bedding for his new room.

I thought girls were supposed to be picky. Apparently, boys could be equally so.

After visiting probably close to a gazillion houses, we'd finally found the perfect one to call home. Connor had thought house hunting was excellent.

He would always run inside every house we visited and yell, "My room!" when he'd found the one he wanted.

It didn't matter if the house had been a dump. He had always called dibs immediately. The idea of having a house he could call his own again excited him. Sarah and Devin had always treated him like a son, and he'd had his own room at their house, but for whatever reason, I didn't think he'd ever felt at home there. Maybe it was because his room had once been their guest room, and he had known that because he used to sleep there on visits with his mom. In any case, he couldn't wait to get a room of his own.

Declan and I had very different views when it came to houses. He was a man. I had thought he'd walk into a house and say, "Whatever you want, honey," like most men do.
As long as it had a garage and a place to put a big TV, what man cared? But no, not my man.
The granite had been too dark, or the cabinets had been too light. He hadn't liked the way the carpet felt under his toes. He had driven me insane. I'd scream in frustration and catch him smirking out of the corner of my eye, which had made me wonder if he had done all of this shit just to mess with me. But the instant we'd walked into the house on Maple Lane, I had known he was really that damn picky.