“And you don’t think I’ll follow your ass to the ends of the Earth?”
She smirks. “I guess you can terrorize high school students no matter where we go. That is, if you want to remain being a teacher.”
“I’m a fucking badass teacher,” I tell her with a shit-eating grin. “In fact, I was thinking about getting my master’s. I could really get away with being an asshole being a college professor.”
“Really? You want to do this? Get married, go where the wind takes us?”
“Will it eventually bring us back home?”
“It wouldn’t be Hood River without the King of Chaos.”
“And Queen Parasite.”
“I hate you,” she teases.
“Nah, you love me, English.” I grin at her. “I cannot wait to fucking call you Hutton.”
“Better than loser…”
“You like that too, loser.”
“Maybe a little.” She winks at me. “We better get back inside.”
I pull her off the truck and tuck her into my side. I feel like I’ve waited my entire life for life to begin, and now it’s finally getting started.
“Emilia Noelle Martinez.” Charlotte grins at the mini Hoodlum sleeping in her arms. “She’s a Christmas miracle.”
Jordy grins from his rocking chair that he dragged over to be right next to Roux’s bed. They’re both obnoxiously happy. It makes me wonder if Charlotte and I look the same. While Jordy and Roux softly talk, I wrap an arm around Charlotte, pulling her close. Her body is tense as she admires the baby that is a perfect mix of Jordy and Roux.
I know she hurts for the baby she lost.
I can practically hear the sobs of injustice rattling inside her head.
“You okay?” I ask, kissing her head.
“Yes.”
“Want me to steal it?”
“Cal,” she hisses, but laughs. “It’s not an it. It’s a girl.”
“They’re so wrapped up in each other, they might not even notice if we took Little Cockblocker.”
“You’re such a freak.”
“We’d be doing the kid a service. Just think. In like sixteen years or so, Jordy’s ass will be back in prison. Mark my words.”
Charlotte shoots me a warning look.
“A little girl—his little girl—who looks like Roux, surrounded by Hood River idiot boys…” I shrug. “He’s going to kill them all. Hell, he’ll probably recruit me to help.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
“I’ll make Jordy my bitch in prison. I’m sure he’s used to it. Probably took it up the butt all the time.” I glance over at Jordy, who’s watching me with narrowed eyes. I wink at him. “Bet you let Jace be your daddy.”
Jordy leans forward, a fierce glint in his dark eyes. “Keep talking.”
Roux and Charlotte giggle at our antics.
When the new parents start talking softly again, I tuck Charlotte’s hair behind her ear and kiss her temple.
“She’s so beautiful,” Charlotte whispers, a slight crack in her voice. Envy. Sadness. Despair.
“Ours’ll be cuter.”
She turns to look at me with watery eyes.
“One day, Charlie girl. One day.”
A smile tugs at her lips as she nods. “One day. I’ll hold you to it.”
“I can assure you, my lovely fiancée, you will not need to remind me to knock your ass up. The second you decide to stop taking birth control, whether it be tomorrow or ten years from now, my super sperm will be inside you doing its damn job. That you can trust in.”
Love shines in her eyes. I know it’s the same look reflected in mine. And to think I actually tried to convince myself months ago that I could hate her.
I couldn’t hate her if I tried.
“You ready to give that baby up so we can go pretend to make one of our own?” I ask, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Five more minutes.”
“I’ve got the rest of my life, Hutton,” I say, already loving my last name as hers. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be right here. I’ll always be right here.”
Terrence
The Day After Christmas
I can’t focus.
I can’t read.
I can’t fucking do anything.
Pressure mounts inside my skull, throbbing to the point it’s maddening. I rub at my temples, willing the pain to leave, but it never does.
No relief.
Never any relief.
The only time I feel like I have control over this shit is when I’m working out. I push my body to the point of exhaustion, desperate to redevelop the muscle tone I lost while in my coma. The therapists I have had to see are all fucking lame. I can dress myself and feed myself. Hell, I could fuck if I wanted to. I don’t need help with that shit. The limp I have will get worked out from gym time, not dumbass physical therapy exercises. That’s exactly what I told that dude too when I said we were done and not to come back. My neurologist is the one who’s mostly concerned, but the guy is always so fucking busy. I can’t wait two months to see him.
I’m at my wits’ end. Last night, I knew it was my end because I considered the unthinkable. That it’d go away if I just blew my goddamn head off.
Right now, as this fucking skull-crushing shit consumes me, I really wish I had that gun.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The door pushes open and Garrett—or Dr. English—walks in. It’s strange seeing him in doctor mode. He’s not wearing a white lab coat or anything, but he’s dressed impeccably and has an aura of brilliance and confidence that he wears like a second skin.
I really, really hope he can help me.
“Terrence,” he greets. “A little surprised to see you today.”
“Yeah,” I say, pressing a finger into my temple.
“You look like shit. What’s up?”
I close my eyes and grit my teeth. Fuck this headache. “My head has been killing me, man. I can’t think. I can’t fucking focus. Your girl out front had to fill my paperwork out for me.” I reopen my eyes, squinting at him because the light is my nemesis right now.
“And you drove here feeling like this?” he asks,
