Текст книги "Stinger"
Автор книги: Mia Sheridan
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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
EPILOGUE
One year later
Grace
"That is the saddest tree I've ever seen," Audrey muttered, tilting her head to look at it.
I laughed, standing back and admiring the half bare, leaning tree, weighed down by the heavy strands of outdoor lights, standing in the middle of our cabin.
"I love it," I sighed. "Anyway, it's our first tradition. Don't knock it." It would look even more beautiful later after we had hung this year's Andrew ornaments on it.
Audrey continued to look at the tree with a disapproving expression. I swatted her playfully on her ass.
She let out a shriek and jumped away from me, laughing. "Fine, fine. Maybe I'll learn to love it too." She looked at the tree and tilted her head again.
I grinned, shaking my head. I started to turn toward the kitchen where I was in charge of basting the twenty-pound Christmas Eve turkey we had in the oven, when the door burst open and all the men came crashing loudly into the cabin.
"We're back, ladies," Josh yelled. "Who's in for naked hot tubbing?"
I laughed and Audrey rolled her eyes. I saw her look around Josh, her eyes landing on Dylan. He caught sight of her and stilled, adjusting his glasses. I'd have to ask her about that later. I'd noticed a lot of heated looks going on between those two this week.
Just as Carson had promised me a year ago, we had come back to Snowbird for Christmas. Only this time, our family and friends were with us and instead of lots to worry about, we had lots to celebrate.
Unfortunately, there was one person who hadn't been able to join us and that was Abby. But she had a really good reason–she was eight months pregnant and not able to fly. Her little boy, Kyle, and the new baby would only be thirteen months apart, but as Abby said, that's what happens when you drink three margaritas on your first night out post-partum. A warning to us all. Truthfully, her and Brian were thrilled.
We had rented a big, ten bedroom "cabin," and had spent the week skiing, snowboarding, and playing in the snow, with me strictly doing the latter. My muscles still remembered last year's lesson and weren't interested in signing up for more. Everyone had at least one gift. Snowboarding was not mine.
"Carson missed an epic afternoon on the slopes," Leland said, hanging his jacket up.
"I was busy doing something way better," Carson said, coming out of the bedroom, our daughter curled up on his chest. "I was cuddling in front of the fire with my girls," he grinned, "and decorating our tree." All the men looked over at the tree Carson was referring to and tilted their heads as a unit. I huffed out a breath as Carson walked up to me and put one arm around my shoulders, kissing my head.
"Oh, God, he's choosing cuddling and decorating over sports," Josh muttered. "Time to hand in your man card, Carson." Josh shook his head, feigning sadness.
Carson raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, your day is coming, my man. Mark my words. And when it does, payback is a bitch."
"Hey, watch your mouth, all my girls are in this room," my dad said, coming out of his room where he had been napping.
Carson looked appropriately repentant as he said, "Sorry, sir," but a corner of his lip quirked up as my dad walked by and punched his shoulder lightly.
The truth was, my dad and Carson couldn't have been any closer. My dad loved both his sons-in-law, but he and Carson had a special bond. Maybe it was because Carson had never had a dad of his own, and my dad got the "man's man" he always wanted in a son, but whatever it was, they loved and respected each other. It warmed my heart in a way that had me constantly fighting back tears when I watched them together.
We had invited my mom to come for the weekend too, but she had declined, even when my sisters and I suggested renting two cabins. I wished we were closer, especially now that I had a daughter of my own, but I couldn't do all the work in our relationship. Maybe someday she'd realize that she had responded to loss, by creating more loss, and seek to repair it. I hoped that would be the case, but I thought more likely that too much time had already passed. It was one of my biggest heartbreaks, but I vowed everyday that it was going to inspire me to pull people closer, not push them away.
Carson had written his own mother a letter and sent her a picture of our daughter, Ella, when she was born–an olive branch that he extended to the woman who had given him life, but simply hadn't been capable of giving him much more than that when he was a boy.
She had written him back and they were corresponding with letters and pictures. He still seemed cautious, but it was a start.
I smiled up at my husband, and then I turned my eyes to our baby and kissed her on her blonde head. "Hey little miss," I said. "How come you're not sleeping?"
"We're working on it," Carson said. Then he leaned in and whispered, "I was telling her this really good story about a girl I fell in love with once upon a time between the twenty-first and twenty-second floor."
"Ah…" I said, looking at our daughter, "no wonder you wanted to stay up for that one. That's a really great story." I touched her nose with my pointer finger gently and she gave me a gummy smile, her hazel eyes lighting up at the attention, that small dimple that I loved so much popping out to the left of her lower lip.
"Yeah," he said, smiling gently, "it really is."
"I hope it was the PG version," I said, winking at him.
He chuckled softly, his eyes warm.
"Hey sis, are you helping in here or what?" Julia called from the kitchen. She and Evan were on mashed potato duty and as I listened to the bangs and soft swears coming from the kitchen, I raised one eyebrow. "Sounds like it's getting serious in there. I better go. Sleep well, baby girl," I said, kissing her again and smiling at Carson as he turned to bring her back to the extra room where we had a crib set up.
As I moved toward the kitchen, I turned my head to watch them walk away. My husband and our daughter. There are many soul-stirring things in this world, but not many as profound as watching the beautiful man you love holding the baby you created together. No, not many.
* * *
Carson
I held my baby daughter in my arms, rocking her in the big, upholstered rocking chair in the guest room, loving her so intensely that it felt like a tangible thing. I put my nose to her head and breathed in the sweet smell of her. I would do anything to protect her, to keep her safe, to make sure she always felt loved.
I had made it my life's work to rescue women from suffering, and most of the time, I felt steady and competent in the part I played in that endeavor. But when it came to the lifelong job of protecting the one small girl in my arms, my heart squeezed in fear. I supposed that was as it should be.
As my daughter snuggled into me, and her eyes started to flutter closed, I let my mind wander…
Once upon a time, someone had held Ara in their arms like this. Once upon a time someone had held each little girl just like this. And if they didn't, they should have. I closed my eyes, rocking, rocking… my little girl exhaling her sweet baby breath, her tiny, chubby hand fisting my t-shirt.
I wanted her to be proud of me. I wanted her to see how I loved and worshipped her mother, and want nothing less than that for herself one day. To be loved completely, body, heart and soul.
Someday, I would have to have a very difficult conversation with her about the choices I had made before I knew better. I cringed with the thought, but the fact of the matter was, the Internet is forever, and it would be better that she hear it from me.
I thought about who I was when I first met Grace, all the ways in which I defined myself back then. Sometimes, you don't even realize anything is wrong until someone comes along and changes you, and makes you want more. In my case, it was a beautiful girl with a plan who shattered the world I thought I knew. And when I put the pieces back together, they were all rearranged, different; and so was I. Until her, I had never even considered the possibilities.
In life, there are those who save us, both in big ways and in small. Sometimes that means being set free from a dark, windowless room, or being pulled out of a burning building. More often, it means being saved from yourself, and made to finally believe that letting someone love you, isn't just a big lie that you're unwilling to tell.
Grace had saved me by calling my bluff, and then listening to the secrets I believed made me unlovable, with acceptance in her eyes. The gift she gave me was her glow–and it shined for me so brightly, that my own darkness disappeared.
I kissed our daughter again, now sleeping peacefully on my chest, lost in her own world of dreams, safe and loved in my arms.
This story is a work of fiction, but human trafficking (also known as modern-day slavery), is very real. For more information and ways you can help, visit:
www.fbi.gov/about-us/
investigate/civilrights/human_trafficking
www.humantrafficking.org
www.polarisproject.org
Acknowledgement
Special, special thanks from the bottom of my heart, once again, to my Executive Editing Committee, Angela Smith and Larissa Kahle. This time around, I was also lucky enough to have an amazing group of beta readers who were not only tough, but were thoughtful and connected to Grace and Carson's story, and gave invaluable advice and commentary; Elena Eckmeyer, Karleigh Lewis-Brewster, Kim Parr, Nikki Larazo and Stacey Price – endless love and thanks! Gratitude, as always, to my family for putting up with me through this process, and to my amazing husband for picking up the slack around our house with an endless amount of patience. I am so lucky to have you.
About the Author
Mia Sheridan lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband who is a police officer and her biggest fan (not necessarily in that order). They have four children here on earth and one in heaven. When she isn’t writing or reading romance novels, she enjoys anything creative from building a patio, to sewing pillows. In addition to Stinger, Leo and Leo's Chance are also part of the Sign of Love series. Mia can be found online at www.MiaSheridan.com or www.facebook.com/miasheridanauthor.