#Heart (Hashtag #6) (27 page)

Braeden

“Braeden, help me. I can’t get out.”

The scent of gasoline consumed the air. It was putrid and off-putting. But I stood there anyway and just stared.

“You’re not going to help me, are you?”

“No.”

“That’s murder.”

A flame ignited. I heard the whooshing sound it made before my eyes ever saw it. Zach heard it, too. His eyes widened as if he finally understood he was going to die.

He started struggling. The sounds of him pleading for his life fell on deaf ears. I was beyond hearing him.

I watched as the flames grew, the orange and red flickering in the night. I was standing so close I could see the blue center—the hottest part of the flame. The metal groaned beneath the destructive heat.

The flames climbed higher and higher in the sky and devoured more and more of the car.

“Help me!” Zach screamed.

I just stood there and stared. The heat of the fire was intense. It actually was painful to stand so close. But I didn’t move back, not even when I felt the smoke from the burning tire fill my lungs.

I was transfixed.

“Murderer!” Zach accused. “You’re nothing but a murderer! You’re going to hell for this. This will haunt you forever!”

Tendrils of fire reached through the shattered window, stretching their deathly claim toward him. The second the flame grabbed hold, his scream pierced through the air. High-pitched, tortured, and bloodcurdling.

My stomach turned as the flames consumed him. He flailed about as he burned, the scent of roasting flesh so incredibly strong.

Suddenly, he stopped screaming.

I thought he was dead.

I watched his body, still strangely intact, as if the flames were having trouble gobbling him. His mouth opened, but he didn’t scream. Even through the harsh glow of the inferno, his eyes snapped open. Lucid, clear… accusing.

“I will get you for this!” he keened.

And then the blaze continued into his mouth, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped forward, no longer visible.

I jerked awake, sweat coating my skin and dampening my hair. My body jolted up as I gasped and my arms flung out.

I could still smell the scent of burning flesh. It clung to my consciousness like a bad song stuck on repeat in the back of my mind.

I blinked, trying to push away the disturbing images, the sound of Zach’s screams, and his accusation that I was a murderer.

I was.

I’d made a choice and walked away.

In that moment, it had been him or me. I chose me.

It hadn’t been fair what I did. I understood that. Life never played by the rules, so why should I?

Was this my punishment? Was this the karma I’d taunted Zach with before I walked away? Would I be haunted by nightmares the rest of my life and walk around with the knowledge that I might someday go to hell?

“Braeden…” Ivy pushed up off the mattress into a sitting position. Her hair was mussed and around her shoulders. “Another nightmare?”

“Sorry to wake you, baby.” At least this time I hadn’t hurt her with my thrashing about.

Her cool hands slid around my bicep from behind. It felt good against my hot skin. She leaned forward and rested her cheek against the outside of my arm. “What was it about?”

“Zach.” My voice was gruff and deep.

She pressed a kiss to my arm and then slid away, lying back against the pillows. “Come here,” she said and tugged on my arm.

I went. She was just too enticing. I laid my head on her stomach and wrapped my arms around her body. She smelled good, like coconut, and it reminded me of the beach. I felt every breath she took, and her fingers started running through my hair.

It felt so good my scalp tingled with goose bumps.

“Maybe talking about it would help,” she suggested quietly.

“Talking about it won’t change what I did.”

“No.” She agreed, still dragging her fingers through my hair and along my scalp. “But it might help you come to terms with that night.”

“I don’t feel guilty,” I told her.

“Maybe you do.” She rebuffed gently, almost kindly.

Maybe she was right. If I didn’t feel some kind of guilt, I wouldn’t be having these dreams.

I turned my head and pressed a kiss to her stomach. “What will I tell him?” I rasped, thinking of my child and how one day he was going to ask me about that night.

“You’ll tell him you made a choice, a
human
choice, and you did it to protect his mother.”

“I’d do anything for you,” I whispered.

“Forgive yourself.”

My heart skipped a beat. She wanted the one thing I wasn’t sure I could give her. “I’m not sure I can.”

“I forgive you.”

My eyes closed. Her words penetrated me all the way to the soul. How could she say that and actually mean it?

“He never will,” I said. I never realized how much it bothered me that Zach’s father was in so much pain. I was lying here right now with my head pressed against my growing child, and I already loved him fiercely. Possessively.

I knew the feelings would only intensify the first time that baby was placed in my arms.

I took that away from another man.

I wouldn’t forgive me either.

“Probably not,” she allowed. I loved that she never lied. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t worth forgiveness. And his grief doesn’t make him a better father. It just makes you both men who made mistakes.”

“You sound like a fortune cookie.”

“Mmm, Chinese.”

I laughed. Her tastes in food had changed dramatically since getting pregnant. It was supposedly normal, but it was also amusing. “Is my little Critter hungry?”

She pulled my hair when I called our child by the nickname that totally stuck, and she hated. It didn’t hurt at all. “It’s the middle of the night.”

“So? You want Chinese; I will get you Chinese.”

“You know what I want.” Her voice turned serious.

The words,
Why do you care so much?
were right there on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back. It was stupid question. I knew why she cared so much.

“I don’t know how,” I admitted. Forgiveness wasn’t something that came easy for me. Okay, it didn’t come at all.

Take my own father for example. I’d told him on his deathbed I couldn’t forgive him for all the things he’d done to my mother and me. I’d let it go in my own way. He no longer haunted me. But I would never forgive him for what he did. To me, forgiving him would be like saying what he did was okay. And it wasn’t.

What I did would never be okay either. Maybe that’s why I didn’t know how to forgive myself. Maybe I didn’t deserve forgiveness, just like my father.

“Someday you will.” She promised and continued playing with my hair.

“Did you tell your parents about the baby yet?” I asked, snuggling a little closer into her body.

Yes. Snuggled.

Sometimes a guy just needs to do these things.

“Not yet,” she hedged. “I told Drew not to say a word either.”

“Think they’re going to be upset?” As I spoke, her hand drifted away from my hair and her nails lightly scraped over my back.

“I don’t know. I’m sure it will be a shock like it was to us.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to miss his birth,” I admitted. It was something that had been gnawing away at my insides these past few days. And since I was already acting good and girly, I figured I’d just get it all out there right then.

“It’s going to be a tricky time.” She agreed, like she also thought about it.

She was due at the beginning of the football season. Assuming I would be drafted by the NFL, I was going to be out of town, wherever my team was. How was I supposed to give my first season with the NFL my full attention when I had Ivy and a baby to think of?

What Romeo asked me the night at the hospital really resonated with me.

What is the one thing you wanted most from your father?

For him to be there. For him to love me.

I was going to fucking be there for my kid. If someone asked him or her the same question when they’re my age, that was
not
going to be their answer.

I couldn’t miss the birth. Not only for the baby, but for Ivy, too. She needed my support. She needed to know I would be there.

“I could talk to Anthony,” I said, thinking out loud. “Maybe see if I can push back the draft, finish my senior year here at Alpha U, and then maybe—”

“No.” Her voice was final.

I lifted my head and looked up. “No?” My lips twitched. It was pretty fucking cute she was bossing me.

“This is your dream. Your career. It’s your opportunity. I’m not holding you back from that.”

“I don’t think that, Ivy,” I said, sitting up and facing her. “You aren’t holding me back.”

“No. I’m not, because you’re going to get drafted. You’re going to play football, and I’m going to be right there cheering you on.”

She was amazing. Fierce. Loyal. Protective.

And now she was carrying my child.

“I don’t want to miss the beginning of this baby’s life.” I rubbed a hand over my face. But if I didn’t play, I wouldn’t get paid. A three-year contract with the NFL would set us up for life. It would guarantee Ivy and my child wouldn’t want for anything.

“You won’t.” She reached out and took my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “You’re surprised?”

“It’s just before I told you, I was so worried.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ve always been like a free range chicken.”

“A free range chicken?” she echoed blankly.

“Roaming free. It’s what I did.” I joked.

“Isn’t that like a cell phone commercial or something?”

I laughed. “Those days are over, Ivy, and frankly, I couldn’t be more glad. I hadn’t realized how exhausting it was playing the field, making sure I never got too close. You’re my home now. You and this baby. No one’s more surprised than me, but I wouldn’t trade you for anything in this entire world, including a football contract.”

“I’ll travel with you,” she said. “Whatever city you go to, I’ll go there, too. You can see me whenever you have a minute, even if it’s only five minutes out of the entire day. And when I get too far along to travel, you can come back for the birth. Soon as I’m able, I’ll bring the baby to wherever you are.”

“You’d do that?”

“You’re not the only one in the relationship who would do anything for the other.”

There were still a lot of details to work out. Still so much to take into consideration, but for now, I was happy.

“You’re going to be the best dad, Braeden. I can’t wait to see it.” Her voice was full of emotion.

Now was a good time to strike.

“I’d make a pretty good husband, too.”

That earned me a sour look.

What was it with this woman?

“Most women would sell a kidney to marry this.” I scoffed and gestured to my bare chest.

“I like my kidneys. Both of them.”

“So you love me and will have my baby, but you won’t marry me.”

“Totes.”

Totes?
On what fucking planet did this make sense?

Ivy rolled onto her side, facing me, and slid down under the covers. The sound of her yawn filled the room. As if we were disturbing her, Her Royal Highness Prada got up from near Ivy’s feet and burrowed under the covers to lie right up against her.

I lay down, too, as close to Ivy as the stinking dog would let me.

She reached out again and started dragging her fingers through my hair. It was almost as good as sprinkles.

“You’re going to say yes eventually.” I glowered.

“We’ll see.”

We’ll see?