The Last Letter
: Chapter 15

Letter #15

Ella,

We lost someone today.

You’d think I’d be used to it after all this time, even callous toward it. A few years ago I was. I have no idea what’s changed lately, but now it feels like every loss is exponentially harder than the last.

Or maybe they’re the same, but I’m different.

More angry.

It’s hard to describe, but I’m somehow more aware now of my disconnection, my inability to forge emotional bonds outside of a few close friends. That small list includes you.

How can I be so connected to someone I’ve never laid eyes on, yet not the majority of the guys around me? Is it that you’re safer through paper because you’re not standing in front of me? Less of a threat, maybe?

I wish I knew.

I wish I had the words for this guy’s wife, his kids. I wish I could take it away for them, take his place. Why does the world take the people who are loved, ripping holes in the fabric of other people’s souls, while I’m allowed to skate by unscathed? Where is the justice in such a random system, and if there’s no justice, then why are we here?

I feel that same restless urge taking over again, to accomplish the mission and move on. Check the box, pull up the stakes, and know we made a difference.

I’m just not sure what that difference is anymore.

Tell me something real. Tell me what it feels like to live in the same place your whole life. Is it stifling to have such deep roots? Or does it let you sway instead of break when the winds come? I’ve gone with the wind for so long that I honestly can’t imagine it.

Thank you for letting me unload on you. I promise I won’t be such a downer next time.

~ Chaos

…

“I’m sorry?” I asked, staring at Beckett like he had two heads.

“What did you just say?” There was no way he’d said what I heard.

“Marry me.”

Or maybe he did say it.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe.” He leaned back against the porch railing but didn’t cross his arms in front of his chest like he did when his stubborn switch was triggered. Instead he grasped either side of the railing, leaving his torso unprotected. Vulnerable. “But it would work. On paper, at least.”

“I don’t… I can’t… I’m speechless.”

“Good, that will give me a chance to convince you.”

Oh my God, he was serious.

“If you marry me, the kids are my dependents. I can take care of them.”

“You want to marry me to take care of my kids.” I said it slowly, certain I had somehow heard it wrong.

“Yes.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times as I tried to get a word—any word—past my lips. I just couldn’t think of any.

“What do you think?”

“We’re not even dating! And you…you want to get married?”

Havoc came trotting up to the porch, but she didn’t go to Beckett. She sat next to me, like she’d sensed her handler had lost his fool mind.

“Not in the romantic sense!” He raked a hand over his face. “I suck at explaining this.”

“Try. Harder.”

“Okay. I was reading the MIBG papers in the hospital with Maisie, and I remembered what you’d said about your insurance not covering it. So I looked through the hospital website, and they take my insurance, and not at your coinsurance rate. The whole thing is covered.”

“Good for you. Now you can get treated for cancer.” How the hell could he just suggest that we get married?

“I’m not done explaining.”

I wanted to throw him back in his truck and off my property, but there was the tiniest spark in me that lit up at the thought that Maisie could get the treatment she needed. And that little spark was hope. Man, I hated hope.

Hope fooled you, gave you the warm fuzzy feelings just to yank them away again.

And right now, Beckett was a big slice of warm, fuzzy hope, and I hated him for it.

Taking my silence for acquiescence, Beckett continued.

“If you marry me, the kids are covered. All of Maisie’s treatments are paid for. No more fighting with the insurance people. No more generics. She will get the best possible treatments.”

“You want me to marry you, to become your wife, sleep in your bed—when you won’t so much as kiss me—all for insurance? Like I’m some kind of pros—”

“Whoa!” He interrupted me, waving his hands. “We wouldn’t have to actually…you know.” His eyebrows rose at least an inch.

“No, I don’t know.” I crossed my arms over my chest, knowing damn well what he meant. If he had the balls to suggest marriage, he could certainly lay out the terms.

He sighed in exasperation. “We’d only have to be married in the legal sense. On paper. We could live separately and everything. Keep your name, whatever. It would just be to cover the kids.”

Oh my God, the man I loved was really standing in front of me, proposing marriage, not because he loved me back but because he thought it would save my daughter. Now I loved him even more, and hated both of us for it.

“Only in the legal sense? So you don’t actually want me? You only want to protect my kids?” Great, now I sounded pissed that he didn’t want me in his bed. If my emotions could just pick a side, that would be great.

“I thought we covered this already. I want you. That just doesn’t play into me asking you to marry me.”

“Can you actually hear yourself? You want me, but you don’t want to marry me. But you’re willing to marry me to cover the kids for insurance, as long as we don’t actually live like we’re married.” All of the legal entanglement, none of the love, or the commitment, or the sex.

Which left us with the only aspect of marriage I was really familiar with: the part where the husband walked away.

“Exactly.”

“Okay, this conversation is over.” I turned, and then spun right back around to face him. “You know what? It’s not. Marriage means something to me, Beckett! Or at least it used to. Maybe it’s not the same for you, or you think because of the way I let Jeff divorce me that I think it’s just a piece of paper, but it’s not. It’s supposed to be a lifetime of love, and commitment, and loyalty. It’s supposed to be all those vows about sickness and health, and better and worse, and loving someone even on the days you don’t like them. It’s not, hey, let’s sign this piece of paper and join up while it’s convenient. It’s supposed to be about building a life with the one person on earth who is meant to be yours. It’s…it’s not meant to be temporary. It’s supposed to be forever.”

He stepped toward me and then stopped himself, tucking his thumbs in his pockets.

“It’s about love, Beckett.”

“And I love your kids. No supposed to be about it.”

The intensity in his voice, his eyes, hit me smack in the heart. “They love you, too,” I admitted. So do I. Which was why I couldn’t agree to this. It would destroy them when it ended. Signing myself up for the hurt was one thing, but my kids? That was where I drew the line.

His whole posture softened, like my words had taken some of the fight out of him.

“I don’t want to do anything that would jeopardize them, or you. I’m just saying that if they were mine, legally, or half mine, Maisie could get the treatment she needs. This could save her life.”

That spark of hope flared, shining too much light on everything the kids and I had been through. All the sleepless nights. All the medical bills that piled up on my desk, threatening to bankrupt us. The overwhelming knowledge that if she didn’t have the MIBG treatment, she most likely wouldn’t live.

But what happened to her once Beckett was done playing house?

“I don’t know you nearly well enough for this—not in the ways that matter.”

His eyes flared with pain, and those defenses went back up. “You know me well enough to have given me decision-making rights for Maisie, right?”

“That was for a few hours so I could go to Colt’s graduation, and only for the worst-case scenario!”

“Reality check, Ella. Your entire life right now is a worst-case scenario.”

Ouch.

“Yeah, well you said it yourself: you’ve never been in a relationship that lasted more than a month. You weren’t even willing to kiss me because you said you’d screw it up and that would hurt Colt and Maisie.”

The anger vanished from his face instantly and was replaced with an overwhelming sadness. “You don’t trust me.”

My heart wanted to. My heart screamed that he would do anything for the kids. My head, on the other hand, wasn’t backing down from his own declaration that it wouldn’t last.

“I thought I knew Jeff. I loved him. I gave him everything, and the minute that everything turned into the twins, he walked. I never dated again. Not once. I swore that I’d never put my kids in a position to let someone walk out on them again.”

“I would never walk away from them, or you. I will always show up, Ella.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me. The men in my life have a habit of promising with one hand and packing with the other.”

“It wasn’t a lie the first time I said it, and nothing’s changed. It’s a vow.”

“That was for soccer! Not marriage! You can’t stand there and promise me always when two weeks ago you weren’t even open to the possibility of a relationship.”

“It’s just on paper, Ella!”

“It’s not! The way you’re proposing that I depend on you—that my kids depend on you—is not on paper. That’s very real. What if you walk away while she’s mid-treatment? They’d stop it! How is that any better than me struggling right now to find the money? If anything it would be more damaging, because at least I know what I’m up against right now. Do you know what a long haul this is? Even if she beats it, the relapse rate… You don’t understand the long-term implications of what you’re offering, as well-intentioned as it may be.” And it was; it was the most heartfelt, genuine offer I’d ever received. But life had taught me long ago that intentions were worth nothing.

“All I can give you is my word, and the promise that no matter what happens to me, they’d be covered. Maisie would live.”

“You don’t know that, either.” My biggest fear slipped out as if it were nothing, but I should be used to it by now with this man. He had a way of stripping away my defenses, leaving me open to the elements. But I didn’t know how to trust the appearance of sunshine after living in a perpetual hurricane. Not when there was the overwhelming possibility that he was simply the eye of the storm.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “But when she asked if she was going to die, I promised her that it wasn’t going to happen on my watch, and this is the only way I can think of to keep that promise.”

Ice ran through my veins, chilling me from the heart outward.

“My daughter asked you if she’s going to die?”

“Yeah, when we were in Montrose—”

“And you’re just now telling me this?” I stalked forward until I was only a breath away from him, glaring up at his stupid, perfect face.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And you promised her that she wasn’t going to die?”

“What else would you have wanted me to say, Ella? That she has a 10 percent chance of living until November? That’s only five months from now!” He had the nerve to look like I was the one who was nuts.

“I’m well aware!” My voice pitched breakingly high. “You don’t think I keep a mental countdown in my head? That I’m not excruciatingly aware of every day with her? How dare you tell her that she won’t die. You have no right to make that kind of promise to her.”

“To her, or to you?” he asked softly. “She’s a child who needs to be reassured, told how strong she is, that this fight is far from over, and yes, I realize how long this will take. I’m not about to tell her she’s a few months away from defeat.”

“You shouldn’t have made that promise,” I reiterated. “I don’t lie to my kids, and you can’t, either. This war she’s fighting is overwhelming. It’s David versus Goliath.”

“Right, and you’ve armed her with a slingshot and sent her against the giant. I’m telling you that I have a damn tank, and you won’t use it! Are you really going to watch her die because you won’t gamble that I’m a decent guy? What do you want? Character references? A lie detector? Put me through anything you want, just let me save her!”

He swore, and that alone pulled me out of my anger enough to listen to the rest of what he was saying.

“You swore. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

He walked past me, running his hands over his hair until they clasped behind his neck. Once half the porch was between us, he turned around. “You have my most sincere apology for that. I haven’t said a word like that aloud for over ten years. But the rest? I won’t apologize for that. You can think I’m crazy all you want. I get it. You’re scared of her dying and scared of what kind of guy she’s chained to as a dad if she lives, even if it’s only on paper.”

“Yes and no.”

“Which one?”

“I’m not scared of her being chained to you,” I admitted softly. “I know you’d do anything for them. I see it in the way you take care of them, the way they trust you.”

“But you won’t trust me to stay.”

How long could Ryan’s letter possibly keep him here? Was he so honor-driven by that letter that he would sacrifice himself with a marriage? Could I trust that honor to keep him around long enough to save Maisie? This was all such a screwed-up tangle of a mess.

“I don’t trust anyone to stay, and you’ve already warned me that I shouldn’t. That you’ll eventually walk out.”

“Oh no. You don’t get to use my words against me unless you get them right. I said you wouldn’t let me stay—that you’d push me out. But it looks like you don’t even need me to mess things up before you start shoving. Do you do that to everyone who gets close to you? Or am I just lucky?”

I ignored the truth of his jab, refusing to look in the metaphorical mirror he’d held up to my face.

“You know what? None of this matters. Not when it’s a giant lie. We’d be committing fraud, Beckett. A fake piece of paper about a nonexistent relationship, and if we were caught… I’m not putting the kids through that.”

His jaw set in a tense line, and he gave me a singular nod before turning and walking down the steps.

Havoc immediately abandoned me to follow him, tiny traitor that she was.

He turned at the bottom of the steps. “Are you really saying that you’re not willing to bend your morals in order to save your daughter’s life? To give me some of that precious trust that you keep locked up tighter than Fort Knox?”

I felt the verbal blow all the way to my toes. Was that really what I was doing? Choosing my own morals, my own trust issues over Maisie’s life? Was I so jaded that I couldn’t believe? Couldn’t hope when my own brother had vouched for him?

Ryan.

“You want me to trust you?” My voice softened.

“I do.”

“Okay. Tell me how Ryan died.”

The color drained from his face. “That’s not fair.”

A piece of that warm, fuzzy hope burned up in my chest.

“Don’t make me lie to you,” he begged…or threatened. I couldn’t tell.

I stood silently, waiting for him to say something different—to give me some of the trust he was asking for. To put himself in a position of vulnerability. But the longer we stared at each other, the more rigid his posture became, until he was once again the hardened soldier I met on his first day at Solitude.

I felt a sorrowful sense of loss, as if something rare and precious had disappeared before its value could even be realized.

“Have a nice night, Ella. I’ll pick up Colt tomorrow for practice at ten.”

“What? Soccer practice?” Like the fight we’d had was something normal and could be glossed over. Like we hadn’t just shoved a stick of dynamite between us and lit the fuse.

“Yep. Soccer. Because I show up. That’s what I do. When I make someone a promise I follow through, and that goes double for your kids. And, since you apparently won’t take my word for it, I’m just going to have to show you over and over again.”

He opened the door, and Havoc jumped into the truck. Then he climbed in and left me standing on the front porch with my mouth hanging open, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

…

“Well?” I asked Ada as I crammed another peanut butter cookie in my mouth. Colt and Maisie were asleep in our cabin, and Hailey was keeping watch while I reverted back to my childhood and spilled my guts to Ada.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked, taking another tray out of the commercial oven and setting it to cool.

“Your thoughts? Opinions, anything.” Because I needed someone else to tell me that I wasn’t psycho.

“I think an extremely handsome man offered you a way to save your daughter.” She leaned back against the opposite counter, wiping her hands clean on her apron.

“What? So I’m the one who’s wrong here? He asked me to marry him, Ada. That gives a veritable stranger rights over my kids for the sake of insurance. Insurance that he can revoke anytime he feels like filing for divorce. Hell, rights over Solitude.”

“Only if you let it. You’re telling me you couldn’t draft a prenup or something that limits his rights? The same as you’d do with Jeff if he walked back through those doors?”

“Jeff isn’t coming back.”

“Exactly.”

“What if he’s a serial killer?” I asked, reaching for another cookie.

“He was Ryan’s best friend.”

“So he says,” I muttered with my mouth full. Well, so the letter said. Ryan had never shared personal details about the guys he served with. He barely told me anything about Chaos when he asked me to be his pen pal, just that a guy in his unit needed mail. I missed my brother. I wanted my brother. I needed to hear his opinion, why he’d never talked about Beckett if they’d been best friends.

I missed Chaos, too.

Chaos. If he’d shown up at my door in January, everything would be different. I knew it in my soul. Maybe I was the psycho one. After all, I’d fallen for two different men in the span of what? Eight months? Pregnancy lasted longer than that.

But Chaos was dead. Ryan was dead. Mom and Dad were dead. Grandma? Dead, too.

Was I really going to add my daughter to that list?

“Didn’t he have Ryan’s letter?”

“Yeah,” I begrudgingly admitted. “Maybe if there was a picture of them, or something. Anything.”

“Did you ask?” She tilted her head and stared at me like I was ten all over again.

“Well. No.”

“Huh. Seems like you already believed him, then, doesn’t it?”

“Ugh.” I let my head roll back and sighed my exasperation to whoever wanted to take my side. “You’re on his side.”

“I’m on Maisie’s side. And that side looks a lot better when she’s living.”

Well, when you put it like that…

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t marry him, Ada. It’s only a matter of time before he gets bored. Guys like Beckett don’t play house.”

“He’s not your father. He’s not Ryan. He’s not Jeff. You have got to stop convicting him of their crimes.”

She was right, and yet my heart still wouldn’t accept it, my head wouldn’t surrender. “Even if he sticks around long enough to get Maisie through treatment, eventually he’s going to check the ‘saved Ryan’s sister’ box and move on.”

“And that’s bad because…”

“Because it will break the kids’ hearts.”

“Funny thing about broken hearts—only the living have them.”

I shot her a glare. “Yeah, I get it. At least she’d be alive to have a broken heart, right? But what if he walks out midtreatment? What if the insurance cancels and the hospital ceases her therapy?”

“Then she will have had more treatments than she’s getting now, and we’ll cross that bridge if we ever get there. Sometimes you just have to show a little faith, even if he is a veritable stranger.”

“I don’t know how to trust him with my kids.” I reached for another cookie and broke it in half.

“That’s a load of crap.” She wagged her finger in my direction. “You already trust him with the twins. He takes Colt to soccer, and he’s stayed with Maisie in the hospital with the privileges you gave him over her care.”

I shoved another piece of cookie in my mouth and chewed slowly. Ugh, she was right. Hadn’t I already admitted to Beckett that I knew he’d do anything for the kids?

“You know what I think?” Ada asked, taking advantage of my full mouth. “You’re not scared to trust him with the kids. You’re scared to trust him with you.”

The cookie scraped my throat as I forced a quick swallow.

“What? I don’t even factor into this. He said the marriage would just be on paper.” Which—okay, I could admit—had actually hurt a little.

“But you care about him.”

Too much.

“Any feelings I might or might not have don’t matter. This isn’t one of your Christmas romance movies where they fake-marriage themselves out of a conundrum, break into snowball fights, and fall in love. There’s no happy-ever-after here.”

Of course that knowledge hadn’t stopped me from falling for him, anyway.

“Ella, it’s June, there is no snow.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you’re going to draw a line on what you’re willing to do to keep Maisie alive?”

And there was the kicker.

Shit. What wouldn’t I do for Maisie? With a cool enough head to get some perspective, I knew there wasn’t a line. I’d risk hell and damnation for her. I’d sell my very soul.

Beckett could potentially save Maisie. The only obstacle was my own stubbornness and fear.

But what if there was a way to leave my fear out of the equation? To directly link Beckett to the kids without my baggage getting in the way?

“I guess I have to talk to Beckett.”

…

Colt flew through the front door after practice, flushed and happy. “Hi, Mom!” He was a blur, kissing me on the cheek and then racing up the stairs to his room.

Beckett stood in the doorway, his baseball hat in his hand. His shorts rode low on his hips, and that incredible expanse of abs and chest was covered up with a Pearl Jam concert tee. His eyes widened when he took in my sundress and the bare expanse of my legs, but he quickly looked elsewhere. “He has a game tomorrow, but I know Maisie is supposed to go in for chemo.”

“We’ll leave after the game. She doesn’t start until Monday, and they’ll need to see if her platelet levels are high enough to even do it. The infection screwed up a lot of stuff.”

“Okay, just let me know. I can take him, of course.” He started backing out of the house, and I nearly cursed.

“Thank you. Look, Beckett, about yesterday?”

He stopped, slowly dragging his eyes to mine and keeping them there instead of on my bare shoulders or the sweetheart, strapless neckline I’d chosen just to get his attention. Sure, the dress was old, but at least it still fit.

When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak, I forged ahead.

“I trust you with my kids.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“I needed to say that first, for you to know that everything we fought about last night…most of that isn’t about the kids. It’s about me. You’ve done nothing but prove yourself since you got here, and it was wrong of me to ask you to tell me about Ryan when I know it would cost your integrity. Ironic really, right? I was asking you to prove your trustworthiness by breaking your word. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” he answered quietly.

“There’s someone I’d like to have dinner with tonight.”

His eyes narrowed.

“With you,” I quickly corrected. “Dinner with you and the someone.”

“You want me to chaperone a date?” His voice dropped to that low, sandpaper-rough tone that woke up my body in parts that had been asleep since Jeff.

“No. I want to meet with my lawyer, and I’m hoping you’ll go with me. About”—I glanced over to where Maisie was napping on the couch—“what you offered yesterday. Kind of.”

Surprise widened his eyes for a second, and I savored the reaction. I didn’t have many opportunities to shock Beckett.

“Kind of?”

Hope flashed in his eyes, catapulting my heart into my throat. “I want to ask some questions first before I say anything. I don’t even know if what I’m thinking about is possible, but I’d be really grateful if you went with me to figure it out.”

“Of course. What time?”

I looked at the clock and then forced a smile. “In about forty-five minutes?”

Instead of scoffing, or snipping that it was too short notice, he simply nodded, saying, “Okay,” and walked out.

I used the time to pack a little for our trip, force Colt into the bathtub, and throw dinner for the kids into the oven. I took Maisie’s temp when she woke up and sighed in relief at the beautiful 98.5 reading as Ada arrived. Then I generally puttered in nervousness before putting on what little makeup I had, which meant a swipe of mascara and a little lip gloss.

Not that this was a date or anything.

Beckett arrived exactly a half hour after he’d departed, his scruff shaved off, smelling like soap and leather, and him. Unh.

“Ready?” he asked after hugging both the kids.

“Yep,” I said, grabbing my purse and a white cardigan.

We walked down the steps, and he opened my door for me. At the moment, in his dress pants, open-collared shirt, and dark blue blazer, he looked more gentleman than special ops soldier, but I knew it was just icing. He might look all fluffy and frosted, but under the clothes he was devil’s food, period.

And I really, really, really liked chocolate.

I climbed up into the truck, and he shut the door, but not before he let his eyes linger on my legs for a moment longer than necessary. Good choice on the heels.

Our drive into Telluride was quiet, accompanied by only a little classic rock streaming through the speakers.

“This was Ryan’s favorite,” he said quietly, catching me off guard. “Used to drive me nuts with it.”

Thunderstruck.

“Yeah, it was,” I agreed. “Did he still play—”

“A wicked air guitar?” Beckett asked with a smile. “Oh yeah. Every chance he got. Between this and Poison, I’ve had my fill of watching him fingerpick at nothing. Did he ever tell you we got to meet Bret Michaels?”

“What? No way!”

“Check the glove box.” He motioned with his head, and I eagerly fumbled with the latch until it opened. “Under the manual.”

I pulled out a white envelope thick and distorted with pictures.

“I think it’s about halfway through.”

I flipped through the pictures, seeing Beckett all over the world, with other soldiers like him, like Ryan. Until I looked closer and saw that it was Ryan in a group photo. My breath caught, and I ran my thumb over his familiar face, an all too familiar ache settling in my chest.

“I miss him,” I said quietly.

“Me, too.” His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “It’s a good thing, though. Missing him. Grief means you had someone worth grieving.”

I found a picture where the soldiers were three rows deep, all camo’d and bearded. For just that second, I let myself wonder, and before I knew it, my mouth opened. “Which one is Chaos?”

Beckett’s head snapped toward mine as we reached a red light, and I felt a split-second of guilt. Did Beckett know how Chaos had felt about me? Or the way I’d felt about him?

His gaze dropped to the photo. “He’s third from the left.”

I searched the picture, hungry for my first sight of Chaos as we pulled into a parking spot in front of the restaurant. There was Beckett, serious as always… “There are two other soldiers three rows in.” Both had thick, short beards and sunglasses on.

The driver’s side door shut. Beckett had already killed the ignition and gotten out of the truck.

“I guess that subject’s closed,” I muttered, examining the faces one last time before sliding them back in the envelope with a heavy heart. Would I ever get to look again? Ever get the chance to ask questions?

I put the pictures back into the glove box just before Beckett opened my door and helped me down. Heels and running boards weren’t always the easiest combo. Then we walked into the restaurant, a little family-owned Italian place I loved.

When we reached our table, Mark was already waiting, and stood.

“Whoa. Gutierrez?” Beckett asked as Mark came around the table and kissed my cheek.

“Nice to see you, Gentry. Shall we sit?”

Beckett held out my chair, and I took it, scooting in. It was an almost archaic gesture, but it made me feel protected, cared for, and a little off-balance.

“So you don’t just run the rescue crew,” Beckett said as the men took their seats.

“Nope, I’m just a volunteer. Keeps me on my toes, and it’s not like there’s a ton of family law business here in Telluride.” He shrugged. “Kind of like you, just doing it for fun, now.”

Beckett nodded slowly.

“So I guess you two know each other,” I said lightly, even though the moment felt anything but. “Thank you, Mark, for meeting us on a Saturday night. I know you and Tess have date night.”

“No problem. She’s actually in Durango for the weekend with the kids. Trust me, I’d much rather be here with you than having dinner with my mother-in-law. Now what’s up?”

“Want to fill him in on your proposal?” I asked Beckett, and he took the reins.

It took a glass of wine and all of dinner, but he explained everything as thoroughly as possible, from the treatments, the bills, the insurance, to his idea of marriage.

Ella Gentry.

I mentally smacked that picture out of my mind. I’d gotten married on a whim once, and a second time was definitely not in the cards. I didn’t care how good his name sounded attached to mine.

“Do you want to marry Ella?” he asked Beckett as the waitress cleared our plates.

“Would you want to marry a woman who had no interest in marrying you?” Beckett answered.

My head snapped to look at him. No interest? It wasn’t lack of interest in Beckett, it was an overwhelming interest in my sanity and…logic.

“But I would, if that’s what she wan—needed,” Beckett finished.

Great. Now I was the damsel. All I needed was a giant light-up sign above my head that flashed with the words “in distress,” and my life would be complete.

“Okay, then let’s not push that option,” Mark said, his gaze flickering between the two of us. “No one wants an arranged marriage here. So, Ella. Now that I have a good idea of what’s going on, it’s your turn. On the phone you mentioned an idea?”

“Right.” I pivoted in my chair to look at Beckett. “What you’re offering is to basically make Maisie your daughter? Right? Even if it’s only on paper?”

“Yes. Colt, too…as my son, obviously. Legally.”

Just the words sent a spiraling warmth through my belly, or maybe that was the wine. Either way, it gave me the courage to continue.

“I’m a little damaged.”

He quirked an eyebrow as if to say tell me something I don’t know.

“And sometimes that damage blinds me. It gets in my way and holds me back. And I’m okay with that. But I’m not okay with it hurting Maisie or Colt. So, if there was a way for you to be their legal father, giving them all the same protections that being my husband would…without me being your wife, would you want that?”

“Not marrying you?” His brows drew inward.

“Removing me, and my damage, from the equation,” I clarified before dropping my volume to a whisper only Beckett could hear. “As someone wise once told me, it’s not about not wanting you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Would you want the kids if I wasn’t part of the deal?”

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation.

“Forever?”

“Always.”

That warmth in my stomach spread, combining with the love that burned so brightly in my chest. I half expected to light up like a Care Bear.

I forced my eyes away from Beckett’s to where Mark sat, his gaze darting between us, his mind already at work.

“Can he adopt them? Without marrying me?”

Beckett drew in a sharp breath.

“Is that something you’d be willing to do?” Mark asked Beckett.

“Yes.” Again, the answer came instantly.

“Have you thought about what that would really mean?” Mark asked me.

“Yes. I know it puts the kids at some risk.”

I felt Beckett tense next to me, like a crackle of energy in the air.

“It could,” Mark agreed. “It would be like having another parent—there would be support to consider, visitation, custody rights, both physical and decision-making. It’s basically sharing your kids with him. But it protects them more, too. The moment he adopts them, they’ll be covered by his insurance no matter the status of your…relationship. The military will always see them as his.”

“Even if he’s out?”

Beckett’s jaw tensed. “Yep. You could even sue me for support if you wanted.”

“I would never sue you for support.”

“I wouldn’t care if you did.”

“Right, but you’re still giving up a portion of your rights, Ella.”

My hackles bristled. The twins had always been mine, and only mine.

“Can we lessen the risk?”

He leaned back, continuing his appraisal of us both. “Sure. You’d just have to draw up a custody agreement to be signed immediately after. You could say that you have sole physical custody, he has zero rights to visitation, but you should share decision-making, or it looks pretty darn fraudulent. You wouldn’t even have to file it unless there’s an issue. Just in case someone comes looking.”

“Is it fraud?” I needed to know. I’d probably still go through with it—Maisie’s life was worth some jail time—but I had to know. “I mean, the marriage would seem way more fraudulent to me. If neither of us want to marry the other, and we’re living in separate houses with separate names, then that’s more fraud than Beckett wanting to be there for the kids, right?”

“Do you want to parent the kids?” Mark looked straight at Beckett.

“Yes,” he answered without a second thought. “I love them. Nothing would make me happier than to protect them like this, to give them whatever I can.”

“You’re going to have to do a little better than that with Judge Iverson. He’s a softy for Ella, always has been, but you’re not a local. He’s not going to trust you just because you showed up for some soccer practices.”

Beckett took a deep breath and toyed with his glass. “I didn’t have a father growing up. A lot of guys who hit first, or just generally ignored me, but no one I considered a dad. When Colt and I were walking back across the field after a soccer game, he asked if that was what having a dad felt like, and I couldn’t tell him yes, because I didn’t know—and he didn’t know, either. I want Colt and Maisie to know what it feels like to have a dad—in whatever capacity Ella would let me be there for them. I just want to be the guy they can depend on.”

“That’s pretty much the definition of fatherhood, and I think you’d hold up just fine in court. It’s not fraud if you are adopting so that you can help raise them. The insurance is definitely a perk, though—one that Judge Iverson would see. But he lost his wife to cancer about ten years back, so I honestly think you’ve got a good shot that he’d choose to see it as just that: a perk and not the reason. Would the lack of rights bother you?”

He shook his head. “Maisie dying bothers me. I would never take anything from Ella that she didn’t want to give, and I’d never do anything that would hurt the kids.”

I thought of the pictures the nurses had shown me of the little graduation ceremony that Beckett had given Maisie. She loved him. Colt loved him just as much, and I was right there with him. They already had so much to lose when it came to Beckett.

“Would they have to know? Right away, at least?” I blurted out. He could absolutely hurt the kids the minute he walked away. To give them a dad just to take him away was cruel. Once Maisie was in the clear—hoping Beckett was still content in Telluride that far in the future—we could tell them…once her heart was strong enough to withstand the potential fallout of the opposite being true.

Beckett went stiff, but his gaze stayed steady and unwavering in Mark’s direction.

“Uh…” Mark’s eyes shifted between us. “I guess not? Kids don’t have to be informed or give consent until they’re twelve. We’d just have to talk to Judge Iverson. Seeing how he’s always favored you, and his hatred of the Danburys, well, I think we could sway him to agree.”

“So we could really do it?” I asked, that tiny flame of hope flaring up again. “Even though we’re not married?”

“Marriage might be the easier route,” Mark said with a shrug.

“I just can’t. Not after what happened last time. I’m in no rush to get a ring on it.”

“Which is exactly what you should tell Judge Iverson if he asks. Our definition of family has changed a ton in the last couple of decades, and marriage isn’t the determining factor anymore. And, since you’re the children’s mother, and they’re not wards of the state or anything, the only complication would really be Judge Iverson’s opinion. A single man can absolutely adopt his partner’s children without them being married. You guys just might have to play up the partner part a little.”

My cheeks warmed. I hadn’t had a “partner” since Jeff, and he wasn’t really ever that, anyway.

“So basically I’d be trading my sole decision-making rights, and that’s it?”

“Basically.” He fiddled with his wineglass as he watched us, his eyes seeing way too much.

“But you’d be gaining Maisie’s life,” Beckett answered. “And you know I’d never do anything that would cross you when it came to the kids. I’m not some villain. I’m just trying to help.”

“I know,” I said softly, and I did, but trust wasn’t something I handed out like candy.

“There’s one catch. You’re going to have to get Jeff to sign over his parental rights.”

Pretty sure a nuclear bomb going off would have had less impact on my heart.

“Why? He’s not on the birth certificate, and the kids are MacKenzies, not Danburys.”

“Ella, everyone knows Jeff is the father. Whether or not you admit it on the birth certificate doesn’t eliminate his rights. One paternity test and the adoption would be voided. I’m not saying he’d ever exercise his rights, but the judge is going to require the release. No release. No adoption.”

“Right,” I replied, my voice almost mouselike. I didn’t want to see Jeff. Ever. That was like ripping open a fully healed scar just for fun.

We thanked Mark, Beckett paid for dinner, and we left, riding back to the house in a tense silence.

“What way are you leaning?” Beckett asked as we pulled through Solitude’s gate.

“The way that doesn’t require me seeing Jeff.” I slammed my eyes shut. “That’s a lie. I know what you’re offering is a godsend, not just for Maisie, but for Colt. For me. I just can’t bear the idea of having to ask him for anything.”

“I’ll handle Jeff,” Beckett promised. “Besides, he’d probably run screaming if you showed up. At least I can blindside him.”

“You’d do that for me?” I asked as we reached my cabin, the truck coming to a soft stop.

“I would do anything for you.” His eyes locked onto mine in the dashboard lights, intense and a little hurt. “What is it going to take for you to believe me? To trust me? You want my background checked? Do it. You want my credit score? Awesome. My bank accounts? I’ll add you on. You have my word, my body, my time, and I’m standing here offering my last name. What else can I give you?”

“Beckett,” I leaned toward him, but he backed away.

“Not that you’d ever give them my last name, not when they don’t even get to know what we’re doing. Right? I can be their legal father, but I’m not good enough to be their dad.”

“That’s…that’s not what this is about.”

“Oh, I know. It’s that you don’t trust me to stay. You think I’ll walk out just like Jeff did. You think it will hurt the kids even more.”

“I figured we could tell them once Maisie was healthy.”

“If I’m still around by then, right?”

I hated and loved that he knew me so well. I didn’t even have to answer. He saw it in my eyes.

“Yeah. Okay.” He killed the engine and removed the keys. “I don’t even have the right to be upset. I know what I’m offering, and the being dad part isn’t in there, right? Just the legal protection. You need something, I’m giving it to you, just like I promised I would. Simple as that.”

He opened the door and got out of the truck. I followed quickly after, watching his back retreat down my driveway, toward the lake.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving my truck here. I’ll get it tomorrow before the game. The walk will do me good.”

“Beckett!” I called after him.

“Don’t worry, Ella,” he called back. “I know my role. I’ve got it. And I’ll still show up. That’s how badly I want…”

He didn’t finish, just threw up his hands and kept walking.

But I finished that sentence for him in my head about a dozen different ways.

How badly I want you.

How badly I want your kids.

How badly I want to be in your life.

How badly I want to show up for you.

How badly I want Maisie to live.

Every single one I came up with made me feel worse for not trusting him. But the guy was up against a lifetime of people making promises and leaving me.

And I was up against a lifetime of no one trusting him.

Weren’t we just a pair?

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