CHAPTER ELEVEN
Justice
I pull up to Ryanne’s the next day with another gift in hand, this time a single pink rose. It’s the first time I’ve ever bought flowers. I felt as lost in that store as I do with my own daughter and I fucking hate it. She deserves more from me but I don’t know how to give it to her.
Ryanne steps out onto the porch, stopping me mid stride. My eyes travel down the length of her, admiring what I’ve been too angry to acknowledge. Her auburn hair is swept up in a mess on top of her head, a few stray pieces clinging to the sides of her pretty face that has matured over the years to being even more beautiful. Her short black sundress is loose against her body but does nothing to conceal the curves I know she possesses beneath it.
The summer heat leaves a dampness to her fair skin, reminding me what it felt like on mine when I was pounding into her, making her scream my name. Just a month before she disappeared, taking my daughter with her.
The reminder is like a bucket of cold water, dousing the flames of desire.
“Where’s Hannah?” I ask, forgoing any kind of greeting.
The flash of hurt in her eyes bothers me more than I care to admit. “She’s coming. You can have a seat on the swing. Unless you want to come in and…” Her words trail off when I climb up the steps and walk toward the swing. “O-kay,” she mumbles.
Like yesterday, I remain standing and lean against the railing while I wait.
“You want something to drink?” she asks, continuing to be polite.
The only response I give her is a shake of my head. I’m too pissed off for any civility at the moment.
She grinds her teeth, chin jutting out, and it gives me a small amount of satisfaction to get the reaction out of her. I selfishly want her to feel the same anger and pain that she has triggered inside of me.
She finally decides to give up and walks back inside, the bottom of her dress teasing the tops of her creamy thighs as she stomps away. My fingers twitch with the urge to pull the material over her hips, bend her over this railing, and fuck all the resentment I have for her out of my system. Maybe then I’ll be able to have a conversation with her.
Blowing out a breath, I run a hand through my hair and pull myself together. My daughter is my only concern right now. Once I figure things out with her then I’ll deal with Ryanne.
As if my thoughts summoned her, the screen door squeaks open and out steps Hannah, looking as beautiful and perfect as I left her last night. She comes to a stop just a few feet away, holding some papers in her hands and looking as nervous as I feel.
“Hi,” I greet her first.
“Hi,” she whispers, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.
Unsure of where to start, I hand her the rose.
Her smile penetrates my chest, banishing the anger I felt only moments ago. She steps forward and takes it from me. “Thank you. I’ve never gotten a flower before.”
“It’s a first for both of us then because I’ve never bought one before.”
The admission only seems to please her further. “I have something for you, too.” She hands me one of the pieces of paper in her hand.
Surprised, I take it and stare down at the colorful drawing. It’s of two stick people holding hands. A tall person and a little person, their necks longer than their bodies. They stand next to what I’m assuming is a motorbike but it’s hard to tell. A rainbow is colored in the blue sky, with grass, hills, and birds scattered over the page. At the bottom is scribbled, Love Hannah.
It’s the most perfect mess I’ve ever seen.
“You made this for me?” I ask, my voice gruffer than I expected.
“Yes, sir. It’s a picture of me and you.”
I continue to stare down at it, unable to find the right words for what I’m feeling.
“I was going to write it to you but I wasn’t sure what to call you,” she says, the words trailing off on a whisper.
My eyes snap to hers and I hate the uncertainty I find there. Crouching down, I bring myself to her level. “Our situation is a little different than most, isn’t it?”
She nods.
“What do you want to call me?”
She answers with a shrug but it doesn’t reflect the answer in her eyes.
“What have you always called me?”
“Daddy.”
The word strikes me right in the fucking chest, reaching places I never knew existed and places I thought were gone forever. “Good. That’s what I want you to call me because that’s who I am.”
She smiles, satisfied with that answer.
“I know we have a lot to sort out,” I tell her. “But never second-guess who I am to you. I’m your father and I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
She nods then holds up the other piece of paper she has in her hand. “Mama helped me write a list of my favorite things so we could get to know each other better. Would you like to hear them?”
“Yes, I would.”
I want to know every second of her life. Every single detail.
We take a seat on the swing and she scoots close to me. So close that her small leg presses against mine, the light touch triggering an array of emotions to thunder inside of me.
“I remember most of it but you might have to help me read a little,” she says, scratching her small cheek.
“No problem.”
“My favorite color is pink, which you already know,” she starts, sparing me a glance that I nod to. “My favorite food is ice cream. Even though Mama says it’s not real food.”
I smirk. “What flavor?”
“Strawberry most of the time but I like chocolate, too.”
“Good choices.”
“What’s yours?” she asks, peering up at me.
It takes me a moment to think of an answer. “Chocolate, I guess.”
“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”
I chuckle, amused by the way she calls me out, not many people would. “I don’t eat much of it. That’s why.”
She nods and looks back down at her paper. “I love listening to Taylor Swift. She sings some of my favorite songs. Do you know her?”
“I know of her but I haven’t listened to her music before.”
“Who do you listen to?”
I shrug. “I like a lot of stuff but AC/DC is my favorite.”
“I don’t know them.”
I grin. “I’m not surprised. They’re a bit older.”
She passes me her pen. “Could you write one of their songs down please so I can listen to it later?”
“Sure.” I take the pen from her and write down “Thunderstruck,” trying to remember if there is swearing or not. Hopefully it’s the latter.
“Thanks. My favorite is ‘Shake It Off’ if you want to listen to it.”
“Uh, okay.”
She looks down, moving on to the next item on her list. “My favorite movie is Brave. She’s also my favorite princess because she knows how to shoot a bow and arrow and kick major butt.”
My brow lifts. “You like bow and arrows, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
Now we’re getting somewhere.
“I have a plastic one because Mama won’t let me have a real one. She said they are too dangerous.”
“They can be if not used properly.”
“Do you know how to use one?” she asks.
“Yeah. Sometime I’ll show you how.”
“You mean it?” she asks, her eyes lighting up every dark place inside of me.
“Yeah. I mean it.”
“That’s great! If I can learn that and ride a horse I could be just like Merida.”
I have no idea who this “Merida” chick is but I have no doubt she is not as cool as the girl sitting next to me.
She continues down the line, telling me everything from her favorite book, to all the things she loves to do. I hang on every word, entranced by the information she shares. It’s exactly what I’ve needed—to know my daughter.
Two hours pass before Ryanne steps outside, regretfully telling Hannah it’s time to get ready for bed.
“Aw, man!” Her disappointment resembles my own. She looks up at me, her eyes hopeful. “You gonna be back tomorrow?”
“Every night,” I promise.
“Cool. I’ll think of more questions for us.”
“Sounds good.”
She stands and faces me awkwardly, silence filling the air between us.
My hands fist at my sides, a war battling within me on whether to pull her in for a hug or not. In the end I refrain, not wanting to fuck up this newfound place we have found ourselves in.
“Bye,” she mumbles quietly.
“Bye.”
She turns to walk away, only making it a few steps before she spins back around and runs toward me. I kneel down just in time to take her in my arms, engulfing her small body as she hugs my neck.
“Good night, Daddy,” she whispers.
It takes everything in me to keep my emotions in check, my entire world tilting on its axis. “Good night, Hannah.”
I make no move to let her go, soaking up every second I can and attempt to make up for all the lost years. When I can no longer stall, I ease my hold and she walks back inside, leaving me with an emptiness I’ve never felt.
Ryanne looks at me, regret in her eyes, but it doesn’t even come close to the one gripping my chest. “Will you wait out here for me? I have something I want to show you.”
I nod, mainly because I feel like I can’t move. I’m anchored to my spot, knowing after that hug I’ll never be the same again.
*
Ryanne
After I finish tucking Hannah in, I walk out of her room, my heart full from listening to her excitedly ramble about her visit with Justice. I’m so proud of her for being brave and making that first move with him. You could tell he wanted to do it but he didn’t know how. The longing in his eyes had broken my heart, which is why I asked for him to wait for me. I want to give him something that won’t make up for the pain I have caused, but will maybe help fill some holes for him.
Grabbing the book that I left sitting on the bench near the front door, I walk outside, my hands practically shaking with nerves. After his cold reception when he first got here, I’m unsure how well this will go.
His head snaps up at my approach and my heart pinches in my chest at the tormented expression on his face.
“It sounds like y’all had a good night together,” I start quietly.
He nods but says nothing else.
Steeling my nerves, I hand him the album. “It’s Hannah’s baby book. I thought you might want to look at it.”
He takes it from me, staring down at the soft yellow gingham cover.
“Everything is documented in there, along with pictures. Even a lock of hair from her first haircut.”
He opens it to the first page and reads her full birth name and weight:
Hannah Justice Creed
Born July 28, 2013
5lbs. 2oz.
His fingers brush over her middle name. “So that’s what the J stands for.”
“Yes.”
Since he didn’t get to be there to help pick her name it was my way of making him a part of it. I personally love it. It’s fitting and the whole reason why Thatcher calls her Hannah J.; it’s his way of keeping Justice in our lives, too.
The next page is a picture of me just days before my delivery. Thatcher had come by to check in and we went for a walk in a nearby field. While I felt like a whale, huffing and puffing as I trudged through the weeds, he snapped this picture, telling me there was nothing more beautiful than a woman carrying a child. I called him a liar that day and laughed, until I saw this photograph.
It’s my most favorite picture of myself. The sun had been shining so bright, catching the red and gold in my auburn hair and dancing along my skin. The long, white maxi dress I wore complemented the moment perfectly. Even though I was terrified for what my future held, I look like I was right where I was always meant to be. Ready to start the next chapter of my life with my precious baby girl.
Justice flips to a photo of Hannah when she was first born, she hadn’t even been bathed yet.
“She was so small,” he murmurs, touching the picture.
Bravely, I sit next to him on the swing, leaving a good distance between us. “I had her earlier than expected. She was small but she was fierce.”
“Why did she come early?” he asks.
“I had high blood pressure and it caused me to go into early labor. They did everything they could to stop it but Hannah was determined to make her debut early so I had to have an emergency C-section.”
He finally looks over at me, his dark eyes meeting mine. “What does that mean?”
“She was surgically removed.” I smile at the panic on his face. “It happens more often than you think. It’s a simple procedure. Just a longer healing process.”
He looks back down at the book, his thoughts hard to decipher. He turns to the next page and stills at the photo of Thatcher holding Hannah. Silence fills the air, his body rigid.
“He’s been trying to call you,” I whisper.
“Don’t,” he grits. “I’m not discussing my father with you.”
Swallowing nervously, I stupidly ignore his warning and push on. “I know you’re angry, Justice.”
A bitter laugh escapes him. “Angry is a fucking understatement.”
“I get it but this isn’t his fault. He tried to get me to tell you.”
He slams the book down between us, making me jump, and pushes to his feet. “Then why the fuck didn’t you? You had six years, Ryanne!”
“Because I was scared,” I tell him, speaking past the emotion threatening to consume me. “By the time I had her and with every month that passed, I only became more fearful. I was worried about your reaction. Terrified you would make us go back there, something I couldn’t do. I still can’t.”
Now that I have voiced it out loud, I decide to lay it all on the line. The one sacrifice I will not make.
“I can’t go back to Winchester, Justice. Not with my family and everyone else there.”
“What about my fucking family?”
“Your brothers are welcome here anytime to see her.”
“They shouldn’t have to travel hours to see her. They shouldn’t have to make appointments and neither should I. I’ve spoken to a lawyer. I have rights too, damn it!”
My blood runs cold at the admission, fear wrapping around my heart like a deadly snake. “You spoke to a lawyer?”
“Of course I did. What the hell was I supposed to do?”
“Are you planning to fight for custody?” The question barely makes it past the panic restricting my throat.
Terror thrashes through my veins when he remains silent, his expression hard as granite.
“Answer me!”
He shakes his head. “I’m not doing this with you. Not now.” He turns his back on me and starts down the stairs, heading for his truck.
It sends me to my feet and I race down the rickety steps after him. “Don’t you dare threaten me and walk away, Justice Creed!” When he doesn’t slow his strides, I jump in front of him, my fists striking out against his chest. “You will not take my daughter! Do you hear me?”
The pain, fear, and anger all explode at once. Tears soak my face as I lash out, my fists colliding with his chest. He grips my wrists and pins my thrashing body against his truck. Before I can anticipate his next move, his mouth slams down on mine, dominating it in ways only he can.
My struggle comes to a stop and I gasp, the earth rocking beneath my feet. He uses the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside, taking what he wants, infecting my heart like no one else ever has. The kiss is furious and punishing, stoking the fire and fury between us. His potent taste, the one I’ve never forgotten, settles deep into my bones.
My fingers fist his hair as I match every angry stroke he delivers. His strong thigh wedges between my legs as he keeps my arms pinned above my head, pressing against the one spot that sends shock waves through my body.
My hips lift, pussy grinding as I greedily reach for that mind-numbing pleasure.
It’s been so long—too long.
The orgasm washes over me like a hurricane, flooding every nerve ending in my body. I drown in it, crying against his mouth, too lost in it all to be embarrassed by the quick thrill.
He grips my jaw with one hand and forces my head back against his truck, his teeth sinking into my bottom lip with a sharp bite. The metallic taste of blood touches my tongue before he pulls his mouth away.
His furious face hovers before mine, eyes wild with lust but the anger is still there, just as prominent as before. “We could have been so good, Ryanne.”
My lungs heave for air as I gaze up at him, heart beating painfully with every breath I take. “Just us or your brothers, too?”
His jaw tightens. “You know better than that.”
“The hell I do,” I counter. “We both made choices, Justice. Ones we have to live with. I’ll accept responsibility for mine but it’s time you accept yours. How do you think I felt when I showed up to your apartment to tell you I was pregnant only to find you and your brothers fucking that girl.” The pain that memory brings slices me as deeply as it did all those years ago.
“I never touched her.”
The truth staring back at me shocks my very being. “But…you weren’t dressed. You—”
“Was just getting out of the shower,” he finishes for me. “Something you would have known had you stuck around to let me explain.”
My eyes close briefly, the clarification evoking a storm of emotions. “Even still, it doesn’t change our circumstance. I will not raise my daughter in a town where everyone questions who her father is. Where she will have to hear the whispers and the rumors.”
He glares down at me but I don’t let him speak, anger igniting within me once more.
“If you think you’re going to take her from me then you better be ready, because the enemies you put a bullet in will seem like fucking saints compared to the fight I will bring you.”
He smirks, amused by the threat. “Is that so?”
“Damn straight it is.”
His large body crowds me further, hard face dipping next to mine. I hold my ground, refusing to cower to his intimidation tactic.
“As much as I would love to make you hurt the way you have me, I love my daughter more. But hear me now, Ryanne. You are not calling the shots any longer. She’s my kid too and I will take what belongs to me.” His fingers brush my swollen lips. “All of it.”