“Morning, darlin’.” His deep voice ripples towards me, and I can’t resist the temptation to open my eyes and drink him in. His bright blue eyes look almost white in the morning sunlight, his skin golden kissed underneath the black tattoos. I watch as hishand shifts closer to mine, and then stops just a hair away from meeting my fingertips. It would take hardly any effort to push my hand into his, but the pain that I feel at his lies still burns hot.
“Hi,” I choke out, my mouth painfully dry. Coughing, I sit up further in bed, my body protesting the movement. His eyes flash with worry and he reaches to the nightstand, passing me a glass of water. Taking a sip, my hands begin to shake, memories of last night coming back in hazy pieces. Dean’s steady hand carefully pries it from my shaking hand before he wraps me in his arms and scoots to my side, pulling me into him. And I let him. The helplessness I felt in those moments after drinking the water that was handed to me last night making a reappearance. I tremble at the idea that someone would take advantage of another human being like that. Allowing myself to sink into his familiar comfort, he holds me until a soft knock sounds at the bedroom door.
I look up at the man leaning against the doorframe, a red EMS bag hanging from one shoulder. He smiles at my pinched brows before taking a step into the room. “I’m Owen,” he says kindly then glancing to Dean, “the morehandsomeWilder brother.” I swear a growl rumbles in Dean’s chest, causing me to let out a laugh, grateful for his humor to break through the heaviness of the morning. Owen gives Dean a nod towards the door. “Get out, I need to check on our patient.”
“I’m staying,” Dean states flatly, shifting back against the headboard and tightening his hold on me.
“I’m fine,” I say, turning to face him and resting my palm against his scruffy chin. His eyes bounce around my face for a moment before he leans in and kisses my forehead, then slides off the bed and strides out the door. “I’m really ok, Owen. No need to check on me.”
Owen turns to close the door before he walks over to the bed, placing the duffle bag by my feet and unzipping it. I analyze hisprofile, and he was correct, he is very handsome. But in a way that is almost too perfect. His face is a bit softer and his hair is neatly trimmed. He pulls out an IV bag and a few pills before stepping sideways and reaching for my arm.
“I’d feel better if we got you some fluids to help push out whatever they slipped in your drink last night.” His fingers gently wrap around my arm, moving it into a better position. “Any medical history I should know about?” I open my mouth to give the routine response, no drugs, no drinking, not pregnant, yada yada. Then snap my mouth shut so hard my head throbs again. His fingers stop their prodding of my arm, and I look up to find his eyes on me, watching me, waiting. Peeking around his wide frame, I glance at the door. Owen follows my gaze, then drops his hands, reaching behind him and pulling the chair that sits against the wall closer to the bed. Propping his chin on his knuckles, he looks back at me again. “This is gonna be good.”
“Shit.” I turn my face to the window, biting my lip trying to piece together my next move. “He doesn’t know, ok?” Closing my eyes, I toss my head back on the pillows.
“I fucking knew this would be good.” His voice is full of humor, not a hint of judgement. I like him. He’s like the other side of the mysterious coin that is my cowboy. While Dean has always been a storm cloud, walking around in all black, Owen is bright and shiny, the life of the party. “How far along?” he asks. I gasp, gawking back at the big smile across his face.
Blowing out a breath, I run my hands over my face, digging my fingertips into my eyes, trying to rub some of the grit out of them. “I just found out. I was going to tell him yesterday, before…before you all showed up.”
“Sorry to ruin that for you.” His apology is genuine, but I wave him off.
“You didn’t ruin anything.” I sigh and stare up at the ceiling. “I mean, you did, but it’s not your fault. He wasn’t exactly honestabout…” I hesitate then throw my hand out towards him, “about you all.” The silence stretches so long that I peek over at Owen. He eyes his shoes, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“I have my reasons for being upset with him.” His kind eyes meet mine. “But that’s in the past. He’s here now, and that’s enough for me.” Softly, he reaches out and rests his hand over mine. “Hannah, I know that he can be a guarded son of a bitch. He’s a riddle I’ve been trying to solve since I was old enough to understand that Dean makes his own choices. While he makes them deliberately, he doesn’t always make the right ones.” The floor creaks down the hall and we both look at the door, waiting for Dean to walk on through. But it doesn’t, so Owen turns back towards me and I listen intently. “But I can see it in that look in his eye when he talks about you. It’s like he’s finally letting a choice he didn’t make happen to him.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused if Owen is speaking in riddles himself or if the drugs haven’t quite left my system yet.
He stands, once again prodding at my arm to find a good vein for the IV. “What I mean is that he doesn’t like to get close to people in fear that he’ll let them down. He wants to be the best at everything he does, and for the most part, he is. But you happened, and the fact that he’s so obviously in love with you means he’s risking not being perfect at something for once in his life.” I look away and pinch my eyes closed at the sting of the needle sliding beneath my skin. “Maybe I’m just too exhausted to be making much sense. What I’m getting at is, give him a chance. Whatever resentment you hold against him, don’t hold it forever.” I try to wrap my brain around what Owen said to me as he hangs the bag from a hook on the wall. A split moment later, I feel the tension in my head ease away slightly as the fluids go to work.
Resting my hands over my stomach I ask hesitantly, “Will the baby be ok?”
The softness in his face instantly puts me at ease. “I don’t think there will be any traumatic effects, but I’ll give my buddy a call. His wife is an OB in town, see if we can get you in for a visit.” Patting my shoulder, he gives me another warm smile, “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to take the IV out, get some rest.” I nod my thanks, already feeling my eyes grow heavy. “And Hannah?” He looks down at me, his hand resting on the doorknob. “Congrats, sis.” And then he walks out, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me feeling all sorts of fucked up.
By the time I wake up again, the sun has shifted to the other side of the house. Looking down at my arm, I notice the IV is gone, a small Band-Aid in its place. A scrap of paper on the nightstand catches my attention. Unfolding, it I find neat handwriting.
I got you set up for an appointment with Tammy tomorrow at eleven am.
The address to the OB’s office is written below.
I feel almost back to normal, but my bladder screams at me to be emptied. Looking around the large bedroom, my shoulders drop in relief at the attached bathroom. I stand carefully, noting that I’m no longer in my clothes from the night before, but dressed in an oversized Keith Urban t-shirt and men’s socks. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me naked before, but the idea of Dean undressing me while I was passed out makes me feel a bit vulnerable. My sock covered feet pad across the soft, white rug that stretches out underneath the giant bed. A large dresser and mirror frame the doorway to the bathroom. I rush across the large bathroom to the toilet, and while I take care of my screaming bladder, I take the time to look around the room. The moment my eyes land on the oversized claw foot bathtub, I wantto cry out in joy. Stripping out of my clothes, I climb in and turn the handles, letting the steaming water fill to the brim. A glass jar of Epsom salts rests along the shelf beside me, and I open the top, pouring a handful into the water. Then, just because I can, I mutter under my breath, “Fuck it,” and sprinkle half of the contents around me, letting the smell of lavender soothe my racing thoughts.
“Feeling better?”I jolt so quickly water spills onto the floor, a deep voice startling me and making me scream out.
“Fuck, Dean,” I huff, leaning back against the tub. The water started to turn cold about twenty mins ago, but I couldn’t make myself get out.
“I wish you would,” he says under his breath, his long legs carrying him towards me. I watch from the corner of my eye as he slides down the cream colored cabinet under the sink and sits across from me. I watch as he bends one knee in front of him, leaning forward to rest his elbow against it and run a hand through his wild hair. I have to drag my eyes off his bare chest and the way those gray sweats seem to be tailored to his hips perfectly.
“Don’t say shit like that, ok?” My words taste sour leaving my lips, but deep down I know we need to get it all out in the open.
“What if it’s the truth?” he mumbles, his fingers twist in the piles of the rug that he sits on. My blood boils so quickly that I don’t think twice before I fly out of the bathtub.
“Stop!” Blindly, I fumble for the towel hanging beside me and wrap it around my body. Rivers of water run down my legs andpuddle around my feet. His blue eyes cloud over, flicking down my body before snapping back up to my face as I tower over him.
“Darlin’.” He starts to stand up, but I stretch my leg out and push a foot against his chest, shoving him back down into place. His eyes flare at the contact, and my skin burns with the intensity of his skin on mine. Carefully, as if he’s trying to calm a wild mustang, his hand comes up to cup the back of my calf and runs along my leg. His fingertips drag slowly over my skin and I fight to keep a moan from leaving my lips.
“No.” Firmly, I place both feet back on solid ground, sitting back on the edge of the tub and pinch my nose between my fingers. “You lied to me! That’s…” Blowing out a deep exhale, I drop my hands as I look back at him. His eyes are full of regret and apology. “That’s not something I will forgive easily.” He nods a few times before pushing to his knees. He rests back on his heels for a moment before slowly closing the space between us.
“You’re right. And I can’t even begin to beg for your forgiveness. I’ll fall to my knees every day until I earn it.” Slowly, his hands pull mine into them. “I was ashamed of how I left five years ago, and the longer I was away, the easier it was for me to pretend that I didn’t have a family anymore.” His voice shakes on the last few words, and it physically hurts to hold back from leaning into him and pulling him closer. “When they showed up, I didn’t realize how much I missed them, and Hannah,” a tiny piece of my heart breaks at the tears that slip down his cheeks, getting lost in the overgrown scruff that covers his jaw and crawls down his neck, “I kept that truth from you because I was so scared that you’d hate me for it if you found out. And we grew so close so quickly, I couldn’t find the right time to bring it up. And well, you ended up finding out in the worst possible way.” His callused hands frame my face. “I’m so, so fucking sorry.” He leans in to kiss me, and with a great deal of effort I turn my faceaway. I can feel his body deflate, but he doesn’t push me, just leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth. The kiss is soft, so intimate that I want to cry.
