My heart, soul, and ironically, the carriage house are all empty without Annie in my life. But the carriage house, however, is chock full of the baby gear Roxy and Cole helped haul into this tiny space a few days ago. After my relationship with Annie detonated in a shower of sparks, no thanks to her brothers, and mostly me, Roxy came by with her boyfriend ready to beat my balls in. Lucky for me and my balls, they listened, and I somehow managed to vomit out the truth. I made them swear they wouldn’t tell Annie. It’s something I need to do when the time is right, something I should have done when we were still new, but the truth is a slippery bitch that never wants to be held when Annie is around. Nevertheless, in a miraculous turn of events, Roxy’s heart exploded as large as the carriage house, and she took some of the proceeds from her last baking event and went to a thrift store and bought out the baby section. Cole said she might be nesting. Whatever that is, it worked in my favor. As much as my pride didn’t want to accept anything from them, I knew this would all be needed in a few short weeks so I tucked my balls between my legs and said thank you.

A firm knock vibrates through the door. I speed over in the event it’s Annie and peer out the window.

I swing it open and frown at my brother. “It’s just you.”

“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too.” His lips expand with a bleak smile. “Let’s see what I’m thankful for this year…oh, yes—your poor attitude.” He socks me in the arm before pulling me into a partial hug. “Get over yourself, will you? You have a lot to be grateful for.”

“Name it.”

“Okay, I will.” He wanders in, and I shut the door with my foot. “For one, I’ve decided to give you your Christmas gift a little early this year.”

“If it shits in the yard, I don’t want it.”

“No, this one shits in the toilet.” He sits down and slaps the seat next to him. “Take a load off.”

I head over and plop down. “First Thanksgiving that I haven’t had a bite of turkey, and I still feel like all I want to do is sleep.”

“I figured so. How about you rake a comb through your hair, and I’ll take you out for a bite.”

I press my head into the sofa and close my eyes. “Not until I get my gift.”

“All right. Her name is Beretta.”

“A gun? You got me a gun?” Does Wyatt know something I don’t?

“I got you a nanny. And before your mind drifts into the gutter, no, she’s not hot. Not unless you’re into sixty-five year-olds who wear ugly sweaters year round. She’s good people. Came highly recommended from friends of mine. She’ll do light cleaning and cooking. She doesn’t work weekends, so we’re on our own.”

“Back it up. We?”

“Yeah, we. I’m pitching in. I think what you’re doing is noble. And, believe me, I get why you’re doing it. If there’s anything I can do to help out, I’m going to do it. You have my full support, little bro.” He softly digs his fist in my arm. “You know I love you.”

“I love you, too, man.” I lean in and give him a strong hug. Normally, I wouldn’t have said I love you. Normally, I wouldn’t be hugging Wyatt like this, but Benji was here one minute and gone the next, and saying I love you and hugging him are two things I wish we would have done daily. Of course, he would have called me a pussy and kicked the shit out of me for touching him, but it might have been worth it. Hell, I know it would have. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He slaps me over the back. “Now grab your jacket. We’re going turkey hunting downtown. Oh, and Blake?”

I pause from snatching my jacket off the table.

“The nanny comes under one condition.”

Here we go. “What’s that?”

“You go back to school. You have two years left, and I want you to knock ‘em out.”

School. A dull smile rides on my face. “You’re right, this is like Christmas.”

The smile glides off his face as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want most.”

Wyatt can never give me Annie. I had taken everything we had and erased it with my own omission.

No one is sorrier than me.

---

Another week drifts by, and I can’t seem to get Annie Edwards out of my head—don’t want to. She’s saturated my thoughts, bled through the pattern of the clouds, I see her smiling face in the evergreens, when I close my eyes, she’s right there waiting for me behind my lids. Every sleepless night, all I can think about is how bad I fucked things up. The irony of it all is that I did it with silence.

I pound my palm into the steering wheel. Frustration has become my closest companion. The only way to lift this fever in my life is Annie’s forgiveness. I’ve become rabid for exactly that.

It’s the last day of classes before Whitney Briggs breaks for Christmas. Annie mentioned last week that she was going to give an oral presentation in her Digital Studios class, and, as soon as she mentioned it, I knew I wanted to be there—out of sight of course, but I’d die before I missed it. It’s a stalker-like thing to do. I know it. But for some reason this doesn’t seem to deter me. I’ve made every excuse to head over to campus since our breakup, even made a point of eating dinner in the food court each and every night just hoping to bump into her.

I head into the parking lot and jump out of my truck. A light snowfall quietly sprinkles to the ground like it did that last night we were together.

Doris Hall looms before me like a relic from some long forgotten era in my life. I have Annie’s schedule memorized, the school mapped out to where she might be at any given hour. As much as I respect her desire to keep our distance, I want to be there, unseen, unheard, lingering like a ghost who wants nothing more than to support her in some capacity. I’m the first guy she let into her life—her body—and I’m sure she’s in deep regret on both counts. A flood of students make their way inside. Class is getting ready to begin. As much as I don’t want to miss a second, the last thing I want to do is rattle her. There’s no way she can know I’m here. I give it a few minutes before making my way into the building, shaking the snow off my shoulders as I head down the hall.

A familiar looking dude looks my way before doing a double take.

It’s Frenchie.

“Hey, you”—he goes from Mr. Nice Guy to bouncer in zero point five—“what the hell are you doing here?” He looks back to the classroom, making sure Annie is nowhere in sight. He seems to care about her. For all I know I might be staring at my replacement. For a moment I envision them far into the future with a house, white picket fence, two kids, two dogs, the whole deal. It unsettles me, makes me want to wrap my hands around his neck because I know it’s a possibility. But as much as I want to hate him, he seems decent. He’s everything I’m not in a nutshell—clean cut, wire-rimmed glasses, built sturdy as a bookshelf.

“I’m not here to do anything.” I glance past him. “Don’t tell her you saw me. I’ll be gone in a minute.” That’s not entirely true. I did bring her a gift I’ve been meaning to give her. It may have involved a small altercation with my father and a stray dog named Jeff, but Annie was worth the scuffle. I’m not sure how I’m going to gift it to her. If nothing else, I can leave it for her at the bar. But that’s not what I’m hoping. In fact, that’s the worst-case scenario.

Johanna, the bitch on heels that tried to squash Annie’s feelings like a bug, comes over and slings her arm around me.

“Hey, big boy.” She plants a wet one on my cheek. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

“Oh.” Tristan blinks in surprise. “I thought you were here for Annie.” He looks from Johanna to me. “Never mind.” He goes to leave, and I pull him back a second.

I dart my eyes into each of his pleading for some kind of brotherly connection, any ounce of mercy he might be willing to show me.

“How is she?”

“She’s good.” The muscles in his jaw flex, and he looks perturbed like I might be stepping on his toes. “Her head’s all messed up. You hurt her pretty bad. Stay the fuck away—‘kay?” He speeds into class without waiting for a response.

“I’d better go.” Johanna runs her finger along my jawline. “Don’t worry about that girl. I’ve got ways to make you forget she ever existed.” She dips her forefinger into her mouth before trying to jam it in mine, and I stop her.

“You want to do me a favor?”

“Anything for you, sugar.” She leans in and takes a bite out of my ear.

“Be nice to Annie. She’s a great girl, and you’d be lucky to call her a friend.”

Her face sours as she takes back her hand.

“Boy, you’ve got it bad.” She pivots on her heels and heads into class.

“Don’t I know it,” I whisper, leaning against the wall right outside the room. As much as I’d love to see Annie give her speech, I don’t want her to see me. The last thing I want to do is throw her for a loop.

A few girls go first—talking mostly of football games and homecoming. A couple of guys go next, same stuff repackaged. Another girl heads up, whispering so low that for a second I think it might be Annie. I carefully take a quick peek only to see it’s Johanna, shitting her pants in the front of the class. Her face is slap-cheek red, her lips tremble, her hands shake so hard her paper is fidgeting. How’s that for an interesting turn of events? I guess it’s pretty easy to pick on someone with a disability but hard to come across well-spoken and confident in a room full of your peers. I want to laugh but can’t. The girl is clearly in pain. After several minutes, the teacher thanks the class for their presentations and commends them to offer one another a final round of applause.

Did I miss Annie?

“Excuse me,” a female voice struggles to pierce through the dull clapping. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to give my presentation as well.”

The room stills. All I hear is the sound of my own breathing, loud as panting into a microphone.

It’s her. Annie had the balls to stick up for herself after the professor all but dismissed her.

“Please, Ms. Edwards, take your rightful place at the front of the class. We’re honored to hear your oral presentation.”

At least he’s got the decency to show her some respect. Swear to God, if I hear one person so much as giggle I’m storming in and rattling a few heads together.

“Hello. My name is Annie Edwards, and I was born profoundly deaf.”

A pang of grief, of relief, of pride and admiration ride through me all at once. Her voice is perfect. Her octave a little louder than the other girls, but that’s because she’s confident. You can see she’s making an effort to annunciate, to project and make sure she’s heard all the way in the back of the room, and, lucky for me, the hall.

“My first day at Whitney Briggs was, in a lot of ways, my first day in the real world. For most of my life I’ve attended the Quincy School for the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. Deaf Culture was an immersion process there. I knew no other life except for the safety and shelter of my own community, populated with others that share my condition. On my first day at Whitney Briggs, I was nearly run over by a service truck on its way to the food court to make its daily delivery. I didn’t hear the truck driver honking at me and was unaware that such vehicles were allowed on campus during school hours. As fate would have it, a very nice boy swept me off my feet, literally, and brought me to safety.”

The class fills with a choir of aww!

“That moment, something else happened to me that was life changing. Not only did this boy teach me a valuable lesson about campus safety, we ended up dating, and he taught me a valuable lesson in love as well.”

My heart breaks because the lesson didn’t end well. Did the lesson end? I want to smile and insist it didn’t.

“This is a picture of the first sunset we shared. I had to take it with my phone. Sorry about the selfie. As you can see, he’s pretty cute.” A soft round of laughter floats through the room. A few people let out a catcall or two. “As our feelings for one another increased so did the locations of our dates. His brother’s ranch, the coffee shop where we had a brief yet violent encounter with my over protective big brothers.” More laughter. “This is one of my favorite shots—serving dinner at the homeless shelter together.” A few moments of silence. I can see the light dim and brighten as she flashes picture after picture on the overhead monitor. “This is the Black Bear Saloon. I’ve sort of saved these pictures for last because they mean so much to me.” The room darkens and brightens again. “He’s the lead singer of the 12 Deadly Sins, and although I cannot hear the beautiful music which so many of you enjoy, I was able to sit and feel the vibrations from the speakers pulsating through me. It was as if he was pouring his voice inside of me, and, for those brief moments, we were one being. I don’t really know what music sounds like. I can only imagine the sound of his voice when he sings—but, when it strums through me, I can honestly say that it feels like magic. He put his soul into every lyric. I could feel it. Literally.” Another moment of silence drifts by, and the world starts to blur through the tears pooling in my eyes. Annie has me gutted. Her presentation is the best gift she could have given me. A precious accounting of our time together—of our love. But I know what’s coming. It doesn’t end well—nothing ever does for me. “One last picture.” The class breaks out in another choir of aww as if they were admiring kitten porn. I’m curious, so I peer in. There we are, tangled in one another’s arms, my head touching hers, my eyes closed. It looks as if it could have been taken just about anywhere, but I know where that was taken—my bed, the first night I made her mine.

“I learned a lot of lessons this, my first semester at Whitney Briggs, and not all of them were delivered in the classroom. If I could tell you one thing that I’ll take with me the rest of my scholastic years—and for the rest of my life—it’s to make the most of the people, the opportunities, of the love you have in your life because classes finish, people change, one semester turns into the next—sometimes relationships end and you have to move on.” A gut wrenching silence comes over the class as the gravity of what she’s saying sinks in.

“What happened to the guy?” someone shouts from the back.

I shouldn’t hear this. I shouldn’t be here. My eyes gravitate back to where they don’t belong, and I spot beautiful Annie at the front of the class. Her long hair falls in waves over her shoulders. She’s dressed in a pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. Annie is making every effort to put her best foot forward. In a word, she’s stunning.

Annie takes an audible breath. “He will always be very special to me. Someone very wise once told me that your first love hurts the most. That you never truly get over that person. I have nothing to compare the pain with—but it does hurt very much. And as for getting over him—I don’t think that is possible. I’m happy to let him live right here.” She tucks her hand against her heart. “I’ll be taking a break in that department for a while. I’m not sure I can ever really love like that again. I guess I should have taken it slow, but after looking at the big picture, I don’t think I would change a thing. He taught me a very valuable lesson and that was to have no fear. Because of the strength he gave me, I’m here speaking to you today—something I would never have even thought possible on my own. Because of him, I’m going to face one of my lifelong fears and have surgery in just a few weeks so that I might be like you, able to hear every beautiful sound that life has to offer. And maybe, one day, I’ll be brave enough to hear his music, listen to his voice for the first and last time.”

A slow applause starts in then builds to a crescendo. Annie has brought the entire class to its feet. Tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away with my shoulder. It’s taking far more restraint than I have not to head in there and wrap my arms around her, to give her the happy ending she deserves in life, and, God knows, I want to. But this isn’t about me. I’m not up for stealing the spotlight from where it really belongs—on Annie.

Bodies stream out past me and bleed into the hall. I spot Tristan heading up to Annie and signing something. She opens her mouth in shock and glances to the door.

I back out of her line of vision.

Shit.

Annie appears in the hallway and sweeps the vicinity until her eyes lock with mine. Here it is, the moment I never anticipated, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it. I’ll always want Annie, in any way, shape, or form she’ll let me have her.

“You heard,” she says it low, quiet, and it’s all I can do to hold back a smile because I love hearing the sound of her sweet voice.

“Yeah, I heard.”

A quivering breath escapes her. For a moment I’m afraid she might cry, and the real crime would be that she wouldn’t let me comfort her. It kills me to think I won’t be able to comfort her from here on out, to be there for her in general.

I sweep the hair off her shoulder as a flimsy excuse to touch her in any capacity. Even in this airy manner, it’s a satisfying feeling.

“Nothing could stop me from being here today.” I press out a pained grin hoping she’ll soften and hear me out. “I wanted to be here for you.”

She nods before hooking her semi-hostile gaze into mine.

“I’m not comfortable.” She touches her lips then extends her hand as if blowing me a kiss. “Speaking to you…it feels vulnerable.”

“No,” I’m quick to assure her. I can feel Annie melting from her glacial hard state. She’s cracking. In her effort not to speak to me, she’s speaking volumes. I pull out my phone. Please, your voice is beautiful. It’s compelling. I need to hear you, Annie. There. I’ve morphed into the guy I used to laugh at. The guy with his tail between his legs because he’s so pussy-whipped he’d give up anything to lick the soles of his girlfriend’s feet. I’m there. Sometimes you need to see life through the prism of heartbreak to appreciate the beauty, the gift that a good relationship really is. If anything, I’ll be ten thousand times more attentive to her needs, far more open and quicker with the truth. Even if I wasn’t technically trying to hide anything, a technicality is still a lie.

She looks up at me from under her lashes as the hall drains of its enthusiastic students eager to get to Christmas break. Annie has three glorious weeks off, and I’d love to spend them with her if she’d let me.

“Annie.” I type out the words because I don’t want her to miss a single one. You were perfect in there. You were confident and brave, and everything I knew you could be. My hand rises to touch her cheek then restrains itself because it’s not my place to do so anymore. Instead my fingers glide over my phone as if my life depended on it. The day we landed in that bush back in August, I took one look into your beautiful eyes and knew I wanted to know everything about you. That first kiss we shared—what I felt at that moment was something that I never experienced before. I saw our entire future map out before me like a constellation. The first night we were together was a miracle, Annie. It was more than sex to me. I felt our souls bond. That night you and I became one person, right here where it counts. I wait for her to read to the end then touch my fist to my chest. I type into the phone once again. The love you gave is something I will treasure for the rest of my life. There will be no other great love for me. Forever, there will be just you. I reach down and pick up her hand. “Annie”—I plead—“I really enjoyed listening to you—do you think you can listen to what I have to say? Please?” I want to fall on my knees and beg like a dog. I want Annie to know the intimate details of what is really transpiring between Olivia and me. Up until now only Wyatt, Roxy, and Cole know the truth.

Annie blows a breath through her cheeks. She glances over her shoulder as if she’s expecting someone, and my stomach drops. What if Annie and Frenchie have a thing going? What if I’ve been replaced, and I don’t even know it?

“Excuse me.” A voice calls, and I turn to find Johanna standing next to me. Shit. How many ways can I spell out I’m not buying what you’re selling? What part of no thank you does this chick not get?

“Look, I’m not interested.” I turn my attention to where it belongs, back to the woman I’d die for.

“Actually”—Johanna steps toward Annie—“there’s something I wanted to say to your girlfriend.” Her voice is soft, she’s taken a humble stance with her shoulders lowered, her chin dipped to her chest. “I just wanted you to know that I totally respect what you did up there.” She’s talking a little louder than she would naturally, but she seems genuine, so I don’t give her the boot just yet. “I’m sorry about how I’ve behaved.” She gives a weary look in my direction before refocusing. “And I’m sorry things didn’t work out between the two of you.” She shakes her head, readjusting her backpack. “Anyway you never know. Things might work out yet.” She takes off out the door, and it’s just Annie and me in these hallowed halls.

Annie touches her hand to my chest a brief moment. “I will listen.” She gives a low guttural laugh. “It’s okay, you can laugh.”

I shake my head, and a grin starts to take over my face. It’s as if we’re back to being Annie and Blake, and not a damn thing has happened. It looks like I’ll be able to give her the gift myself, after all. I can almost feel Benji up there somewhere smiling at me.

My phone vibrates, and I pull it out just enough to see it’s a text from Olivia.

Just had him. Sorry no time to call. Jepson Memorial room 228.

My heart seizes. I give a hard blink into the phone. Can’t catch my breath. My body grows heavy as concrete.

Annie places her hand on my shoulder. “Are you, okay?” she mouths. Her eyes bear into mine, and I fight the urge to collapse my arms around her.

I flash the phone at her and take a deep breath. “I have to go.” My heart breaks and fills with elation all at once. My fingers type something out quick as if they had a mind of their own. I’m going to meet my son. And I don’t want to do it without you. Would you please come with me? As a friend?

Her mouth opens as she struggles for words. “Are you still with this girl? She said you were.” Her voice is low and raspy and just as gorgeous as she is.

A ball of fire rips through me at the lie Olivia managed to squeeze between Annie and me.

“No. There’s so much I have to tell you. The baby—”

“This conversation can wait.” Annie glances down at my phone. “I’ll go with you—as a friend,” she whispers.

Jepson Memorial emerges over the landscape like an overgrown cinder block against the dove gray sky. It looks ominous and hopeful all at once. A thousand thoughts race through my mind—all of them rotating right back to the baby waiting for me inside.

Annie was nice enough to text Wyatt for me as I sped like hell to get us here. We park and race up to the second floor. I pause a moment outside the maternity ward to catch my breath. My head pulsates. My heart feels as if it’s malfunctioning on a fatal level.

I touch my hand to my head. “If I’m about to drop dead, I came to the right place.”

“You can do this,” she whispers. “I’m here for you.” She says it loud, and I smile with relief. I hope she never stops saying those words.

“Thank you.” I pull her into a tight embrace, taking in her scent as if I needed a hit just to make it through what comes next.

Annie and I walk onto the unit. Second door to the right, room 228.

“Knock, knock,” I say softly. The door is wide open, but there’s a curtain blocking our view of the bed. The television is so loud I could hear it down the hall.

“Get in here, you piece of shit,” Olivia snarls. At least her sense of humor is still intact. We walk to the other side of the curtain, and Olivia twitches the idea of a smile at the two of us.

“He’s in there.” She nods to her left at the glass basinet where a tiny bundle of flannel blankets quietly fidgets. “Go on. Get your daddy on.” She flips the channel on the TV and turns down the volume. “You, too.” She flicks the remote toward Annie. “If you’re going to be playing the part of ‘baby mama’, you’d better get to know the critter.”

“Ignore her.” I walk Annie toward the tiny bundle. “My God,” I whisper. My body shakes out of control as the tears come. All of the pain, all of the heartache of losing Benji is coming to a head in the most beautiful way.

Annie taps me, points to the baby and makes a rocking motion with her arms. “Pick him up.”

“Yes.” I give a nervous laugh at the thought. I reach in carefully and extract him a little faster than anticipated because holy, holy—he is lighter than air. “He doesn’t weigh anything.” The patch of dark hair on the top of his head wafts in the breeze I’ve created with my words.

“Five pounds, nine ounces. That’s plenty big.” Olivia reaches for a carton of milk and gives it an aggressive shake.

“Hello,” I whisper as I draw him near. His navy eyes are glassy as he blinks at me. This tiny being is seeing me for the very first time. I try to smile, but I want to cry. His pink button nose is more than I can handle. He grimaces and smiles on a loop. But it’s the shape of his lips, of his eyebrows, the familiar contours of his face. “Annie”—I turn towards her with this precious angel in my arms—“what I’ve been trying to tell you for so long is that this precious little boy”—I swallow hard just trying to push the words through the brick lodged in my throat, taking the words nice and slow—“he truly belongs to my brother. This is Benji’s baby. Olivia was Ben’s girlfriend in the end. Not mine.”

“Back up the tape.” Olivia spins her finger in the air.

“We dated for a while in the dark ages. Ben sort of snagged her away, and I was okay with that. Our run was long over.”

Annie’s eyebrows arch deep into her forehead. A pleasant look of surprise takes over for a moment before she melts again into the baby.

A swell of relief fills me because I’m pretty sure Annie just understood what I’ve been dying to tell her.

“This is his child.” Her voice cracks with grief.

“And now he’s mine.” I touch my lips to his suede soft skin. “This is the only piece of my brother I have left.” I blink back the tears as I look at my son, the exact reflection of my brother, of me. “I promise, I’m going to love you forever, buddy. I’m here for you. I always will be.”

“He’s beautiful.” Annie whispers as she touches her finger to his tiny hand, and he claps onto her like he’s never letting go. He already knows a good thing when he sees it. “What’s his name?”

I cradle him between the two of us.

“His name is Benjamin. Just like his daddy.”