The Tiger's Baby (Honeypot Babies Book 3) Page 4

  No matter how old I get, facing death never becomes any easier. Losing my parents was heart-wrenching. They both died a few years ago and while it wasn’t fair that illnesses took them from me, I knew they both lived good lives. They lived happy lives and they were both so loved.

  When Ellie’s brother, Ezra, passed away, that was a different kind of hard. He hadn’t lived a full life. He was young and energetic and eager to explore the world. He was excitable. He was happy, and then he was dead. He was alive, and then he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair. It didn’t make any sense. It wasn’t easy. It hurt, and it hurt for a long time.

  Now Ellie is about to go through that pain all over again. She’s about to have her heart ripped out, broken, torn to shreds, and there’s nothing I can do to save her from that pain. There’s nothing I can do to help her.

  I’m her social worker, but I’m also her friend. I’m her buddy. I’m the one she should be able to count on when things get tough. I’m the one she should be able to count on to help her through the sadness and the tears and the pain.

  I just hope I’m ready.

  I hope I’m strong enough to do a good job helping her.

  I hope I don’t completely screw this up.

  Death hurts. It’s painful and awful and sad and even though this is my job, I feel completely unprepared. It doesn’t matter, though. It doesn’t matter how I feel. It matters how Ellie feels. It matters that I’m able to help her and her dad through this as much as possible. It matters that I help her cope with the pain.

  I take a few more deep breaths and look at the office building in front of me. I need to take notes about my visit with Randall and Ellie, but somehow, writing about Mr. Thomas on his death bed doesn’t seem like something I want to spend my afternoon doing.

  I just want to go to Bumble’s and get a fucking milkshake.

  I owe it to Ellie to do this right, though. It’s just a little paperwork, but I’m not going to mess this up. I’m not going to have anyone thinking Randall Thomas didn’t get the best possible end-of-life care or that no one was there for his daughter because I was.

  I was there.

  I was there for both of them.

  One more deep breath, and then I get out of the car. I head inside the building and walk past the receptionist’s desk without saying hello. I don’t feel particularly chatty today. Maybe I’m mean, but I just want to finish my work so I can go home.

  “Hey,” the receptionist calls out. “There’s a man in your office.” She doesn’t even look up at me, but her words stop me in my tracks.

  “What?” I ask, turning back to her. “Who?”

  “I don’t know,” she shrugs and pops her bubblegum. “Said he was an old friend.”

  “So you just let him in my office?” Without an appointment? Without taking his name? There’s no doubt that Honeypot is a safe place to live and work, but come on. Is she for real right now?

  The receptionist – I can’t remember her name because she’s exactly like the last girl, and the one before that, and the one before that – just shrugs and goes back to playing on her phone. With a low growl, I head down the hall toward my small office. I need to talk with my boss about replacing the front desk girl. That behavior and that attitude? Hell no. It’s not okay.

  First off, we’re not supposed to let strangers come in unannounced. We’re never supposed to let people without appointments back in the social workers’ offices. That’s a huge security risk. Most of my cases aren’t extreme. Most of the time, I’m not dealing with domestic abuse or dangerous issues, but it’s still important to be cautious.

  You never know when someone is going to break down and go after a social worker. When people are stressed, they tend to make poor decisions. This includes going after the person they blame for their problems. A lot of times, that person happens to be me. My goal is to help people, but sometimes I’m the one who gets blamed for a child going into foster care or a person dying or someone ending up in prison.

  We don’t need a lot of security at our office because most of the time, the shifters in Honeypot are great people. The receptionist should know better about letting a stranger in to my office, though. Visitors should wait in the front lobby for everyone’s safety. The receptionist should respect me, my job, and my space more than that.

  Obviously, she doesn’t, and I’m going to have to learn to deal with that because I have a feeling she isn’t going anywhere.

  I try not to sigh too loudly, but I’m tired and my feet hurt and my soul feels broken. I don’t have the energy to go talk with Patty right now. I just want to go sit down and have a good cry, but first I have to deal with the asshole who thought he could barge in without an appointment.

  Seriously, who does that?

  Who shows up unannounced?

  Who thinks it’s their right to just sit in my office until I come back?

  My thoughts go wild. They’re all over the place, but as soon as I push open the door to my office and I see the tall, dark, and handsome shifter sitting in my chair with a cowboy hat on top of his head, I know exactly who would do that.

  “Jason,” I whisper.

  “Hello, darling,” he says. His eyes drift to my round belly. “It seems we have something to discuss.”

  Chapter 4

  Jason

  My heart pounds when she walks in the room wearing that pink dress. It falls to her knees and clings to her round belly. Her baby’s in there. My baby. Our baby. I know I’m going to sound stupid as fuck when I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say.

  When did you find out?

  Did you try to tell me?

  Were you ever going to tell me?

  I want to know what she wants to do. I want to know what she’s done every day since she found out she’s carrying my cub. I want to know everything, but most of all, I want her to promise to be mine forever and always.

  I want Arielle to forgive me for being a jackass because we both know I was. I want her to look past the fact that I was stupid and give me another chance.

  I want her to tell me that she missed me.

  I want her to tell me that she thought of me.

  “Jason,” she says my name, and I can hear her heartbeat from across the room. Her hand floats to her belly and her mouth forms a little “o.” She’s scared. I can tell right away. I can fucking smell it. She’s scared.

  Of me?

  Does she think I’m going to reject her?

  Does she think I don’t want to be a part of this?

  What is she afraid of?

  Instead of asking the way a gentleman would, I hop out of her chair, stride across the room, push her against the wall, and kiss her hard.

  I kiss the hell of Arielle because I’m no gentleman.

  “I’ve waited six months to kiss you, darling,” I tell her. “I ain’t waiting another minute.” I kiss her again and again and again, ignoring the fact that her office door is wide open and anyone could walk in. I don’t care about that. Let them look.

  The only thing I care about is here and now and her and me.

  I’ve waited months to kiss her. I’ve waited a fucking lifetime and now that she’s here in my arms, I’m never letting her go.

  Ever.

  I broke her heart. I know it. I knew it when I left and I knew it when she walked in the door and saw me. Her face was a mixture of excitement and horror; that’s something that only happens when someone has really, truly broken. That’s something that only happens when someone’s heart has cracked.

  I hate knowing I put her through pain.

  I hate knowing I’m the reason she’s scared and sad.

  But I’m going to fix this, fix her. I’m going to fix both of us and I’m going to do it one kiss at a time. I’ve got the rest of my damn life to make up the last six months to her and I intend to do so.

  I intend to make this right for my sweet girl.

  I kiss her again and again and again. Arielle doesn’t fight me or yell at me or
slap me. She does the opposite, in fact: she melts into me. After a minute, she grabs my back, pulling me into her. Her belly is between us, pushing against me, but I don’t care about that. That’s my cub in there. That’s my baby. That’s our baby.

  I’m not going anywhere.

  I hear someone clearing their throat in the doorway and we stop kissing and look over. A stern-looking woman with frizzy gray hair and a broad smile is standing there.

  “Hi Patty,” I say. The two of us have worked together many times. It’s all part of being a cop in Honeypot. You get to know the social workers and you end up seeing them regularly.

  I don’t mind the Honeypot social workers. They’re good people, but they often represent the hardest parts of my job. They come to help the people I deal with emotionally. They come to help the families who lose someone. They come to help the people who are broken, who are hurting.

  Patty is one of the better social workers I know. She’s strong and saucy and she’s got a temper that rivals the Chief’s, but she’s a good woman. She’s smart as hell and she always seems to know exactly what to say.

  That’s something I struggle with.

  Words aren’t my strong point.

  I’ve gotten better, but when I’m in a tough situation, sometimes I don’t know how to communicate in a way that makes the other person feel better. That’s why I need people like Patty and Arielle on my team. When we get a call that something is going down, I need them to help me keep everyone calm. They’re so good at it. They’re better than I could ever dream of being and I appreciate everything they do.

  I haven’t seen Patty since I returned to Honeypot. I haven’t seen anyone yet. I haven’t even seen my mother. I spent the morning trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be a daddy, and then I rushed right over to see Arielle. If Patty is surprised to see me after all this time, she doesn’t show it.

  “Jason,” she murmurs. “Good to see you.” Then Patty turns to Arielle. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re having fun, but let’s close the door, all right?” She winks and closes the office door, leaving us alone. I turn back to Arielle, whose eyes have gone wide as saucers.

  “Darling,” I murmur. “It’s just you and me now.”

  “What are you doing here?” She asks. Her voice is barely a whisper. In fact, I don’t know if she realizes she’s spoken. “Is this real?”

  “It’s real, baby, and I’m here. I got some interesting news last night when I got home. You know anything about that?” I reach down and rub my hands over her belly, trying not to tear up as I feel her beautiful, round stomach. My cub is in there.

  “What?” She asks, looking shocked. Her eyes search mine. “How did you? How…” But then her eyes narrow. “Fucking Georgia,” she mutters. “She made you a nursery, didn’t she?”

  At that, I burst out laughing because we both know my sweet sister is quite the meddler.

  “Yeah, baby. She made us a nursery. It’s a damn good one, too. You should come see it sometime.”

  “I’m sure I’ll be seeing plenty of it,” she says. “That is,” she hesitates. “If you want to be a part of this.” Her voice holds a question. She sounds nervous, scared. Did she think I wouldn’t want to be a part of this baby’s life?

  Did she think I wouldn’t want to be a part of her life?

  Is that the type of man she thinks I am?

  I can’t blame her. Not really. I did leave. I walked away. It wasn’t by choice, but I left in the wrong way. I should have given her a warning. I should have let her know what was happening. I should have walked her through it.

  I didn’t.

  I couldn’t stand the thought of her crying, of her being sad, of her feeling broken in the weeks leading up to the deployment, so I didn’t tell her until the very last second that I was leaving. Instead of being up front with her, instead of being honest with her, I took the coward’s way out.

  I hid everything from her until there was nothing she could do but mourn me alone.

  I didn’t know I was leaving her with a baby, too.

  “I fucked up,” I whisper to her. “I fucked up and I don’t expect you to forgive me right away. I don’t expect you to forgive me for a long-ass time, princess, but know this: I love you with all of my heart. I missed you every day I was gone. This baby is the best damn news I’ve gotten in my entire life. So when you ask if I want to be a part of this, there’s only one thing I could possibly say.”

  She raises her eyes to mine and they’re filled with tears, mirroring my own feelings, mirroring my own heart.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “A thousand times, yes.”

  Chapter 5

  Arielle

  He’s back.

  My heart is pounding in my chest because he’s back and he loves me.

  He’s back and he loves me and he wants our baby.

  He wants to be here for this.

  He wants to be here for me.

  “I’m dreaming,” I whisper because this just can’t be true. This can’t be really happening. There’s just no way this can be happening. “You left me. You can’t be here. How…how are you here?”

  My head is spinning.

  He kissed me. I didn’t imagine that. He kissed me and it was good and perfect and wonderful. Jason is here and he kissed me just like he used to. He’s here and now his hands are on my belly, and I feel the baby suddenly roll and turn.

  “Woah,” Jason’s eyes get big, round. “Was that our baby?”

  “Yeah,” I nod. “I guess he likes you.”

  “Really?” He looks so happy at that idea. He looks so excited.

  “Yeah. He doesn’t do that for just anyone.”

  “This is the coolest thing,” he whispers, and then he cups my face and kisses me again. He pulls me against himself, as much as he can with my belly in the way, and I feel big. I feel like a big, round giant. I try to pull back, but he stops me. “None of that, princess. No feeling self-conscious. You’re mine. You know that, right? You always have been.”

  “I just…” I can’t wrap my head around this. It’s all happening so fast. “This is fast, Jason. I mean, yesterday I didn’t know when I’d ever see you again. I was all set to be a single mom and raise this little guy alone.”

  “It’s a boy?” He asks.

  “What? Yeah. It’s a boy.”

  “We’re going to have a little boy.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

  “Arielle,” he whispers, and now his eyes really are filled with tears. “We’re going to have a little boy.”

  “Yeah,” I repeat, the power of his words sinking in, and I finally realize exactly what Jason is saying. He’s happy. He’s content. He’s overjoyed. We’re going to have a sweet little boy, just the two of us, and this baby is going to be so loved.

  I thought I was going to be raising him alone, but I’m not. Jason came back and he’s completely on board with everything. He seems different somehow. He’s changed. He seems like he’s being genuine, like he honestly can’t imagine anything better than getting to raise a cub with me.

  Jason kisses me again.

  “We can’t just start things up again,” I tell him, finally finding my voice. I need to stand up for myself, right? That means I can’t just go falling back into bed with him. I can’t just go falling back in love with him.

  I need to stand up for myself.

  He hurt me.

  He hurt me deeply, wounded me, and maybe I won’t ever recover from that. I don’t really know. It’s not reasonable that he thinks he can just come barging back in my life and I’ll be like, “Yeah, okay, fine, whatever.” That’s not fair to me, right?

  Only, as I look in his eyes, I kind of think I need to screw the rules. Screw what society says I need to do. Screw making him beg and apologize and get on his knees. I’m looking at him, into those deep, dark eyes, and I realize that for the first time in months, I suddenly feel totally, completely at peace.

  I suddenly feel happy.r />
  I suddenly feel like everything is going to be okay.

  “I love you, Arielle,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I fucked things up so badly. I should have told you long before I left that I was leaving. I should have begged you to wait for me. I didn’t want to be selfish, princess, but I was. I was so wrong. Can you ever forgive me?”

  “I love you, too,” I tell him. Our foreheads are pressed together and we’re both whispering, like we’re afraid to be too loud, like we’re afraid that if we talk too loudly, the spell will be broken.

  “Tell me we’ll be together, princess.”

  “I’m scared, Jason. What if you hurt me again?”

  “I won’t hurt you, Arielle. I was stupid. I was naïve. I was wrong.”

  “I shouldn’t have stormed off that night,” I tell him quietly. “I should have stayed. I should have fought for you.” The hitch in his breath tells me I’ve surprised him, that he wasn’t expecting me to say that, that he wasn’t expecting me to play things that way.

  “It takes two, honey.”

  “You were scared. I figured that out while you were gone,” I tell him. “I figured a lot of things out.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like the fact that you’re a good man, Jason. It wasn’t hard to figure out you wanted to spare me pain.”

  “I did, but I went about it in the wrong way.”

  “Yeah, your way kind of sucked. It ended up being more painful for me, more hurtful. You didn’t think about that. You just didn’t want me to be sad, baby. I get it, but honey? I was still sad. You just didn’t have to see me being sad.”

  I take a deep breath and hug him close once again.

  “I missed you every day,” I tell him. “I missed you every day and I tried to find you. I tried to tell you about our baby. I tried to tell you that you were going to be a daddy.”

  “You told my sister and mom, huh?”

  “They sort of figured it out.”