“My mom got pregnant at seventeen and died in childbirth. My father was a fucking loser. He abandoned her when he found out she was pregnant, so she died in the arms of her brother, Archer’s dad . . . my uncle. He and my aunt raised me as their own. They became mom and dad to me, in place of my real parents. Archer and I are cousins, but we grew up as brothers.”
“And the Brooks and Dunn connection?” I pressed gently.
“My mother. It washerfavorite band. She named me before I was born, and my uncle honored her wish after she passed.”
“And your aunt and uncle? Where are they now?” I asked. I looked up at Brooks, waiting for an answer, but he clamped his jaw shut.
“My uncle—my dad—was in the MC that Archer and I were in,” Brooks said quietly. “He died in a motorcycle accident about seven years ago. That was before the club went entirely to shit . . . before I went to prison.”
“And your aunt?”
His hands sifted through my hair. “Mom had a heart attack three hours after I was sentenced,” Brooks said.
“Brooks,” I whispered.
“Don’t,” he said, his tone gruff. “I’ve lived with the guilt every day since then. I’ll never forget.”
It made so much sense now.
Why he denied himself pleasure and joy.
Why he kept himself so contained, so rigid.
“She’d love you, Freckles,” he said. “She’d love you so much.”
“And your dad?” I asked. “Would he love me too?”
“Oh yeah.” He peered down at me and smiled. “How could anyone not love you?”
I reached for him. He rolled me over so I was on my back and then he pressed his head to my chest. He stroked my belly with his hand, almost absently. I wondered if he was thinking about the future. What they wouldn’t see. What he wouldn’t get to share with them.
“I lied to you, too, Freckles,” he whispered.
His voice was so soft I almost couldn’t hear him.
“What did you lie about?” I asked, my fingers slicing through his hair.
“I can’t wait for you to ask me for a baby.”
My stomach flipped.
“A little of me. A lot of you. We can make a family, Freckles.” He lifted his head up and rested his chin on my breastbone to peer at me.
I traced his lips with my finger. “You would do it, wouldn’t you? If I asked, you’d have a baby with me.”
“Yes. I’d give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” He kissed my chest. “A baby, a house . . . my last name.”
“There’s no rush, Brooks.”
“Yeah, Freckles. There is.” His amber eyes were liquid as they peered at me. “I know what it’s like to lose time. To hold your breath and wait for better days to come. But in prison you learn that better days aren’t guaranteed. So why not live each moment like it’s your last? Because it might be.”
“Brooks,” I whispered.
“I love you, Freckles,” he stated, his tone bold and sure. “And you love me too. So what else is there?”
My lips trembled. “I never told you I loved you.”
“You didn’t have to. You let me into your bed. You welcomed me into your body. You wouldn’t have done that without love. That’s just how you’re wired.”
