KAYNE STARES SILENTLY OUT THE living room window.
That’s his position of choice these days. Leaning against the glass, ominously quiet, lost in his own head.
I’m six months today; my belly has finally popped and I have given up trying to squeeze into any of my pre-pregnancy pants. Maternity it is from here on out. I wish not fitting into my clothes was my biggest problem. Kayne had been over the moon about being a father up until about a month ago; when we went for my twenty-week ultrasound and found out we were having a boy. When, for the first time, we were able to see our baby’s little feet and hands and face in a 3D picture. Everything changed after that. He retreated into himself. I know my husband, and beneath that cocky, I’ll break you in half exterior is a high-strung, excitable man who needs to exercise restraint when it comes to his emotions. They can become a Molotov cocktail if he’s not careful. Believe me, I know; I’ve been in the direct line of fire when he flies out of control.
Kayne walks a fine line every day, and lately that line seems to be getting narrower and narrower. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking about. Her, his mother, his childhood, and all the shitty things that happened to him while growing up. I’m beginning to worry that starting a family is going to have a negative effect on him. That instead of completing us, it’s going to tear us apart. I know I had reservations in the beginning, and I know I’ll always worry, but what really scares me is the thought of raising this child alone.
“Hey.” I speak to Kayne’s back.
“What’s up, kitten?” His reply is flat.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?”
“What’s bothering you.”
“Nothing is bothering me,” he fires back.
“We both know that’s not true.”
“I’m fine, Ellie.”
“No, you’re not. You barely sleep, you barely eat, and you haven’t touched me in almost a month.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re horny?”
“No. That’s not what this is about. It’s about you and your issues.”
“I have issues?”
“Lately, you do.”
“The only issue I have is you accusing me of having issues.” He’s being obtuse and pissing me off.
“Kayne. In three months, we are bringing a child into this world. I want him to know his real father, not this watered-down version who can’t even look at me.”
“Are you saying I’m not the real father?”
I sigh exaggeratedly. “I’m saying you’re an asshole who won’t face what’s bothering him.”
Kayne finally turns around, anger burning in his eyes. Good. Finally, a reaction other than just aloof.
“Did you just call me an asshole?”
“I did. Do want me to repeat myself so you can hear it again?”
“That isn’t a very nice thing to say.”
“WelI, I had to get your attention somehow.”
“You have it. What do you want to talk about, Ellie?” His tone is menacing.
“What’s bothering you.”
“I told you, nothing is bothering me.”
“I call bullshit. Your mother is bothering you. Your past is bothering you. Becoming a father is bothering you.”
“Becoming a father isn’t bothering me.”
“But thoughts of your mother are?”
Kayne remains quiet.
“Maybe it’s time you found out what happened to her,” I suggest.
“Maybe not,” he seethes. I know this is a gaping wound for Kayne, a painful buckshot right to the gut. But he has to face it and now is the time.
“I can’t keep living like this. I need my husband back. I feel alone and scared and I don’t want to do this by myself.”
His expression softens but not enough to give me hope.
“I can’t, Ellie.”
“You have to,” I push.
“I don’t have to do anything,” he argues.
“Yes, you do! For me! For our child!”
“Let me remind you of something, kitten,” he snaps and I jump. “I own you, so that means I tell you what to do, not the other way around. And if I say no, it’s no!”
“Kayne!”
“Enough!” he shouts at me. “Go find a corner to curl up in and leave me alone!”
“You condescending cocksucker!” I hiss. Outraged, I pick up the remote control off the coffee table and hurl it at him as hard as I can, missing his head by a half inch. It smashes into the window behind him, creating a starburst crack.
“What the fuck, Ellie!”
“I’ll do better than find a corner. I’ll find a new place to live!” I storm out of the living room crying, snatch my keys off the kitchen counter, and slam the front door behind me.
I DROVE AROUND FOR HOURS, knowing without fail I would end up here.
I ring the doorbell and London answers moments later.
“Hey.” She hugs me.
“Expecting me?”
She nods. “Kayne was here a little while ago looking for you. He said you had an argument.”
“Argument is an understatement. I cracked one of the windows in the living room.”
“One of the big ones?” Her eyes widen.
“Yup,” I confirm.
“Did you try and put his head through it?”
I laugh. It feels cathartic. “I threw the remote at him and missed. Let’s hope this baby doesn’t inherit my accuracy.” I put my hands on my protruding stomach. “Is Jett around? I need to talk to him.”
“Upstairs. He just finished giving Becks a bath. Somehow, he got into the pantry, climbed on the shelf, and opened the peanut butter jar. The kicker, instead of eating it, he decided to rub it all over his body and the kitchen walls.”
“No.” I gasp.
“Yes.” She sighs exasperated.
“And you want another one?”
“If I change my mind, it’s too late now.”
I stare at her funny. “Are you . . . ?”
London nods precariously.
“Oh!” I hug her. “You’re insane and a little bit my hero.”
“Mommy?” Becks calls for London from the top of the stairs.
“Here, baby.” He walks down all clean. Blond hair blow-dried and blue eyes mischievous.
London lifts him into her arms. “Mommy has a baby in her belly,” he tells me in his sweet little raspy voice.
“I heard.” I smile at the gorgeous little boy.
“And let’s hope he or she only looks like you.” London touches her forehead to his. Becks chortles spiritedly, like he understands his mother’s joke. “Go on upstairs, Ellie. I need to give this little rascal some dinner.”
“Okay.” I walk up the stairs while London carries Becks into the kitchen. I love London and Jett’s house. It is so warm and full of love with pictures of them and the children everywhere. My favorites are the artistic shots in black and white. London loves photography and is extremely talented with a camera. I’ve already recruited her to take the baby’s first newborn shots.
Upstairs, I find Jett rinsing out the tub.
“A father’s work is never done,” I quip as I lean against the doorframe.
“Nope. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He flashes a smile at me, the front of his shirt soaking wet.
“I hear congratulations are in order, again,” I say cheerfully.
He grins brightly, confirming the news. “Yes, they are.”
“You’re going to have a baseball team by the time London is done with you.”
“If that’s what she wants.” He dries his hands off and comes to stand in front of me. “How are you doing, sweet thing?”
“I want to kill my husband,” I reply half-serious, half-sardonically. “You have some peanut butter . . .” I point to his hair.
“Yeah, we’ve all been there.” He rakes his fingers through the front of his blond strands, removing the clump of peanut butter. “Little bugger,” he muses.
“Who? Kayne or Beckett?
“Both,” he shoots back.
I can’t stop myself from laughing.
Jett washes off his hands, tickled. He is the most laid-back father. Nothing seems to rattle him, even Becks’ most outlandish antics. When he’s finished drying them, he puts his arm around me and walks me down the hall to his office. “Let’s talk.”
I take a seat on the cozy loveseat across from his desk. He always jokes he bought the piece of furniture for his therapy sessions. Right now, it’s coming in handy.
“I heard Kayne was here,” I say.
“Yup. Looking for his lost kitten.”
“Not lost, runaway. There’s a difference.”
“Yes, there is,” Jett agrees. “What was the fight about? Had to be pretty bad if you left.”
I groan. I’m irritable, frustrated, and utterly exhausted. “He’s been distant. Barely talks or eats or sleeps.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About a month. Ever since we went for my twenty-week exam.”
“I see,” Jett ponders.
“When I finally confronted him today, everything just blew up.” I make an explosion gesture with my hands.
“He was pretty upset you left. Probably has half the SWAT team out looking for you right now.”
“Good, let them look. Serves him right for dismissing me into a corner like I really am a naughty cat.”
“He didn’t.” Jett’s eyes widen.
“Oh, he did. That’s when I threw the remote at him and stormed out.”
“Did you hit him?” Jett asks overly interested.
I shake my head.
“Too bad. I would have loved to see your throwing arm.” He chuckles.
“It’s not as impressive as you may think.”
“So what do you think his issue is?”
“The same issue that has been bothering him his whole life.”
“His mom.” Jett provides the obvious answer.
I nod, sadly. “I just think he needs to face it. And he won’t listen to me. He just pushes me away. I know the baby is affecting him. He was so excited to be a father, and now, he’s just completely different. He’s shutting us out, and it’s terrifying me.”
“Ellie, listen.” Jett takes a seat on the couch and wraps one arm around me. “First, I want to be clear. Kayne will never abandon you. And if the thought even crosses his mind, I’ll kill him, and I’ll make sure it hurts. Second, you’ll never be alone. No matter what happens, you have me and London and we love you like family.”
“Thank you.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “That’s very reassuring, but I’m not worried about me. I want our child to know his father. Know the person I know. I really think you need to talk to him. Convince him that he needs to find out what happened and put the past to rest. It’s the only way he’s going to move on.”
Jett stiffens before he lets out a huge sigh. “Ellie, I think there’s something I need to tell you, and I think now is definitely the time.”
I look up at him warily. “What?”
Jett gets up from the couch and walks around his desk. He opens a drawer, pulls out a folder, and drops it on the desktop.
“What’s that?”
“The smoking gun.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a copy of Kayne’s caseworker’s file. The one who was assigned to him when his mother was trying to regain custody.”
“What?!” I fly to my feet.
“How long have you had this?” I snatch the folder up and open it. The contents contain a bunch of papers and a picture of a seven-year-old Kayne sad enough to break your heart into a million pieces.
“Since right before we went undercover together.”
“What.” You could knock me over with a feather right now. “That’s like . . .” if my math is right, “over ten years.”
Jett confirms with a reluctant nod. “I had to be prepared in case of any surprises. So I looked into what happened to her.”
“And . . . ? What happened?” I flip through the file looking for answers. “Where is she?”
Jett’s expression just gets bleaker. “She’s dead, Ellie. She died shortly after Kayne met her for the first time.”
“No.” My chest tightens.
“I’m sorry.”
“How?”
“A car accident.”
“No, I mean how does Kayne not know this? He was in the system. He had a caseworker. Wasn’t it their responsibility to tell him?” I ask irate.
“I have a theory about that.”
“A theory?” I huff.
“Yes. At the same time Kayne’s mom was working to gain back custody from the state, Kayne was living with two of the most abhorrent foster parents in Motor City. It doesn’t say this in the file, but I believe what happened was when the social worker showed up unannounced to deliver the news, she caught the couple abusing Kayne. It says she ‘found him locked in a small broom closet, dirty and naked and smelling like urine.’”
“Oh, god.” My stomach turns. Animals.
“I believe, since it doesn’t say much after that account, the social worker didn’t want to traumatize Kayne further. So when she removed him from the home, she didn’t tell him about his mother.”
“Okay, well, she should have told him eventually, no?”
“Yes, I’m sure, but researching further, I came across the elderly woman’s death certificate. In an unforeseen twist of fate, she apparently died of a heart attack three days after she removed Kayne from the household.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“I could not make this stuff up.”
“So your theory?”
“She never got a chance to tell Kayne that his mother didn’t up and abandon him, and his next caseworker was unaware he didn’t know or didn’t bother to tell him. Either way, the information slipped through the cracks.”
“That’s almost too impossible to believe.”
“Crazier things have happened. A woman once gave the man who kidnapped her, lied to her, and forced her to submit a second chance, and now she’s having his baby.”
I squint petulantly at Jett. We are not talking about me and my questionable decisions.
“We need to tell him. We need to just bite the bullet, tell him, and hope we survive the wrath of Kayne.” I pace the room.
“Hold that thought.” Jett pulls his phone out from his back pocket and glances at the screen. “That wrath may come sooner than you think,” he informs me before he answers it. “Hey, man. Yeah,” he looks directly at me, “she’s here.”
Oh, shit.
“Okay . . . see you in a few.” He hangs up. “You’re done blowing in the wind.”
“Apparently. You just gave me up.”
“We have like seven seconds before he gets here.”
“Should we take cover?”
The doorbell rings.
Too late.
“At least he’s using his manners and didn’t break down the door,” Jett points out.
“He probably just doesn’t want to pay for another home repair.”
“Ellie!” Kayne’s voice blasts through the house.
“Up here!” Jett yells back.
Moments later, Kayne appears in the doorway. He’s wearing loose jeans and a fitted blue t-shirt. His hair is a mess—my guess from trying to pull it out—and there’s a hollow look in his eyes.
“Let’s go.” He tries to grab my arm, but I step back.
“No.” I see the devastation on his face, but we have to do this. We have to address the albatross in Kayne’s life.
“Ellie, now.” His tone becomes stricter, desperate almost.
“We need to talk.” I hold my ground.
“No, we don’t.”
“Yes. We do.” I’m adamant.
“Maybe you should listen to her,” Jett interjects.
“Maybe you should mind your own fucking business. She’s my wife—”
“Yes, I know,” Jett cuts him off sharply. “You love to remind everyone of that. Maybe you should remind yourself why you married her. Wait. I’ll do it for you. Because she has your best interests at heart and only wants what’s best for you. For you and your child.”
Kayne immediately clams up. I know he wants to argue with Jett, wants to tell him to fuck off and drag me out of the house, but he’s exercising his restraint. He may be excitable, but he’s not stupid.
“Sit.” I gesture with my head to the couch. “Jett has something he needs to tell you.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“For fuck’s sake! Can you not be difficult for one minute today!?” I erupt and the baby kicks me. “Oh!” I double over.
“Ellie?” Kayne grabs me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine, but you’re pissing the baby off. Now can you please just sit?” I grimace. “I think he has your front kick.” I rub my sore stomach.
“Fine,” Kayne grumbles, dragging me to the couch with him. “But if I sit, you sit.”
“Fine,” I spit back. Such a loving couple, aren’t we?
“What do you have to tell me?” He directs his question at Jett, tension emanating from his pores. He may be trying to play it cool, but he is a bundle of nerves.
Jett takes a deep breath and leans on the edge of the desk directly across from us. With compassionate eyes, the eyes that are the most genuine on the planet, he recites almost verbatim what he told me only minutes ago. About Kayne’s mother, the social worker, and his ‘theory.’ Kayne remains silent the whole time . . . barely blinking, barely breathing. Once Jett finishes, you could hear a pin drop.
Kayne is intimidating to begin with, but menacingly-silent Kayne is downright scary.
“Kayne.” I lace my fingers with his and rub my thumb across the back of his hand. He doesn’t utter a word, not one, single word. After a few moments, he spontaneously stands up, hauling me with him with a death grip on my hand. He stalks over to Jett, who straightens, pushing out his chest, almost defensively. Kayne glowers as he reaches for the folder, never breaking eye contact with Jett. The tension in the room could suffocate a tyrannosaurus rex. Once he has it, he drags me away, quieter than a mime. Outside the house, he opens the door to his Jag and motions for me to get in.
“Can you drive right now?” I ask as he walks around the front end.
No answer. He just slips into the front seat and hands me the folder. He punches the ignition and takes off in the direction of our home. Peeling through the quiet neighborhood, we make it there in record time.
“Kayne.” I try to engage him, but he shuts me out, not even acknowledging my attempt. After we’re inside, he drags me upstairs to our bedroom. Taking the folder from my hand, he drops it on the dresser then proceeds to strip me of all my clothes. Every single article until I’m completely naked and he is still fully dressed.
“Lay down,” he orders, his tone downright daunting. Guardedly, I crawl onto the mattress and rest my head on the pillow. Kayne kicks off his shoes then follows right behind me. To say I’m not a little apprehensive would be a lie. I don’t think my husband would ever intentionally hurt me, but when his emotions become too much for him to handle, he tends to get rough. And with me being pregnant, I’m not sure how that will fair.
Kayne slides his hand over my naked body, feeling every microscopic inch of my skin, before he lies down next to me. Practically wrapping me up like a mummy with his limbs, he places his head on my bare chest and begins to cry. Hard, deep sobs that shake us both. I’m completely thrown, but at the same time, completely sympathetic and a little destroyed. He finally knows the truth and now has to deal with it.
“Shhh . . .” I kiss his head and run my fingers through his hair, encouraging him to purge all the feelings out.
“Shhh . . .”
I WAKE UP ALONE AND to the smell of breakfast. My stomach growls. Someone is hungry.
I slide out of bed, grab a cotton sundress from my closet to slip on, brush my teeth, and use the bathroom. Once downstairs, I find Kayne working away in front of the stove. Whatever he’s making smells delicious. I walk quietly up behind him, not to scare him, but because I’m not sure what frame of mind he’s in. Yesterday, he confronted his darkest demons; who knows how that’s affecting him today.
“Hey,” I say softly as I stand next to him.
“Morning.” He kisses me on the head while he continues beating—“Eggs? You’re making eggs?” Now that I’m close, I see a host of different ingredients spread out on the counter—pancake batter, butter, milk, chopped green peppers, and shredded cheddar cheese. I also notice his caseworker’s file laying open off to the side. I have no doubt that he’s been reading it. If I know him, dissecting it would be a better word. “You hate eggs. They remind you—”
“Not today,” he cuts me off. “Today, I love eggs. Today is a new day.” He scoops up the chopped peppers with his hands and drops them into the bowl then pours the half cup of shredded cheddar in afterward.
I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. “Today, I love eggs. Today is a new day.” What? For the past five years, just looking at a carton of eggs made Kayne shudder because it reminded him of Kim, the foster mother who tried to seduce him when he was seventeen. Making eggs was apparently their “thing.”
“How long have you been up?” I glance at the clock. It’s only seven forty-five in the morning.
“A while. I couldn’t sleep, so I worked out. We need a new punching bag, by the way. Then I went for a run with Jett around six. I showered, and now here I am.” He dumps the eggs into the heated frying pan and they sizzle.
“And how are you doing?” I ask delicately.
He pulls in a deep breath and then exhales, pushing the eggs around with a wooden spoon. “I think I’m okay.”
“You’re okay? Some serious information was dropped in your lap yesterday and you’re okay?”
I don’t mean to sound skeptical, but this is my husband we’re talking about. Usually, he reacts quite passionately when railroaded with information.
“Ellie,” he huffs, putting down the spoon and turning to face me. “I have spent damn near my entire life obsessing. Wondering what, why, how. I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m finally going to take Jett’s advice and just put the past behind me. I have more important things to worry about now.” He puts his hand on my stomach. It’s such a sweet gesture, I almost tear up. Damn hormones.
“I have one memory of my mother, and it’s a happy one. She wanted me, and that’s what I’m going to remember.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Okay, I won’t lie. I’m flabbergasted. I didn’t expect this when I woke up. I thought I was going to be putting him back together one tiny piece at a time, but it seems Kayne had some revelations while I was sleeping.
“You’re the most important thing in my life. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you lately.” He kisses the inside of my wrist.
“You didn’t disappoint me. You scared me.”
“I know.” He pulls me closer and drops his forehead to mine then kisses me again before stirring the eggs around. “And I’m sorry for being a condescending cocksucker.”
“It’s okay. You can’t help who you are,” I tease him.
Kayne smirks. “Brat.”
“And proud of it.” I grab a little piece of green pepper and pop it into my mouth.
“Clearly.” He snakes his arm around my waist and secures me against him. “You’re the only one who can tame me, Ellie.”
“I’m not interested in taming you.” I run the tip of my nose up his neck. “I like you just the way you are.”
Kayne tightens his hold, his eyes flashing with excitement. I quiver.
“Are you hungry?” he purrs.
“Starved.” My mouth waters for more than just eggs.
“I bet.”
My stomach interrupts us, growling loudly, and we both laugh. “Someone is impatient.”
“You missed dinner last night. Can’t blame him.”
“He eats just like you.”
“If that’s the case, let’s go feed our boy.” Kayne sucks and licks my lips before he lets me go.
I grab some plates and silverware, while Kayne finishes cooking the eggs and pulls out a stack of pancakes warming in the oven. Once everything is set up on the patio outside, we sit down to eat. Well, Kayne sits. I kneel between his legs, but not as a submissive, instead just a woman who is madly in love with her man.
“My mother’s name was Sarah,” Kayne proceeds to tell me as I take pieces of pancake from his fingers. “Sarah Rivers. She had me when she was fourteen. There was no mention of my father on my birth certificate.” I chew slowly, listening attentively. “She was hooked on drugs and in no condition to raise a child, so the state took me away from her when I was thirteen months old. She eventually got clean and pulled her life together. She was twenty-one when she died.” I run my hands over his thighs as he speaks. “She wanted me.”
“Of course she did.” My composure nearly shatters. “She was your mother. Of course she wanted you.” I take his face in my hands and kiss him. A deep, emotive kiss that screams I want him, too.
“When we have another baby—”
“Another one? We haven’t even had this one.” I laugh.
“Well, when, if, we have another baby, and it’s a girl, I want to name her Sarah.”
“That’s fine. Done deal,” I agree immediately.
“Good.” It’s almost like he sighs with relief. Did he think I would say no to such a heartfelt request like that? He then attacks my mouth, smothering it with passion-fueled kisses.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask when we break for air.
“Starved. But I want dessert first.”
It doesn’t take long before our hands are roaming all over each other and breakfast is a distant memory. I guess I wasn’t the only one starving in more than one way.
“Touch me, Ellie.” My name vibrates low and deep in his throat as I pull on the waistband of his basketball shorts and jerk his rock-hard cock with both hands. He kisses me more aggressively, his fingers tangled securely in my hair. After a few pulsating seconds, Kayne lifts me to my feet and pushes me back so I am leaning against the edge of the table. Forcefully, he spreads my thighs then buries his head between my legs. I hold on to the table for dear life as he licks through my folds incessantly, my knees nearly giving way.
“Ohhhh . . .” I moan insufferably as the sweet ache of pleasure spreads through my whole body. “Yes,” I pant rapidly as my climax electrifies.
“Oh no,” Kayne removes his mouth from my ravished pussy. “Not this time.” He pulls down his shorts just low enough so his cock pops free. “This time, you’re coming all over me.” He hauls me up into his arms and impales me onto his straining length. My muscles immediately tighten, shocking my arousal.
“Oh, shit,” I mutter helplessly as Kayne hooks his arms under my thighs.
“Already, baby?” He impales me onto his thick rigid cock over and over, like he’s doing bicep curls with my body. Drawing me all the way up then dropping me all the way back down.
“I can’t help it,” I wince as he slices through me, my muscles painfully contracting and my clit tingling. “It’s the hormones, all you have to do is look at me and I pop. Oh, god!” I practically screech when I come, my control crumbling to pieces.
Kayne growls against my neck as he fucks out every last drop of my orgasm, demanding my demise like he always does. I barely have the strength to hold onto his neck as he walks us inside and lays me down on the dining room table.
“This is exactly how I want you.” He thrusts deeply into my depleted body, pushing up my dress. “Destroyed, shattered, ruined, demolished.”
I moan incapacitated, exactly all those things and more. He ravages me repeatedly, plundering my pussy with no apologies, taking exactly what belongs to him. My pleasure.
“I love you like this, Ellie.” He places both hands on my stomach and slows his pace. “I love that a piece of me is inside you.” He caresses my little bump.
“I love it, too,” I respond in a state of ecstasy.
“Come with me, kitten?” Kayne rubs my clit and I arch my back.
“Yes, please. Please make me come.” He knows just how to touch me; he knows all my secret spots.
“Hurry.” He rubs harder, circling his hips, punching his swelling cock into my dripping wet channel.
“Don’t stop.” I exhale sharply as another orgasm forms like a cyclone. “Kayne! Kayne!” All I can do is cry his name as he calls forth my arousal, my addiction. The sensations that bind me to him.
“Kitten.” He slams into me once, twice, three severe times, right before we fuse as one.
“Fuck, Ellie.” Kayne stills as I shudder around him, stretched and filled to the point of breaking.
Lost in our own little post-coital world, my husband worships me with his mouth like he loves to do, covering my entire body with lingering kisses. My favorite—the one he plants right in the center of my stomach.
“That’s how it’s done,” I hear him whisper.
“Kayne!” I scold him, teasingly.
“What?” Gotta teach him early.” He laughs.
I am only capable of responding with an eye roll.
Men.