Page 117 of Heartless

Those words reverberated through his brain like a stabbing knife. That’s how he’d referred to their child…his baby. If that hadn’t shown him who he was, nothing could. Those words had been classic Cooper Hawthorne. If he had ever wondered if his old man’s blood ran through his veins, he had learned the truth that day. He was most definitely his father’s son.

Two days after he’d uttered those words, his life had blown up. Layla was dead, his other team members had barely escaped with their lives, and his marriage was on life support.

Divorcing Livvy and then disappearing to try to find the killer of his friends had made the most sense to him. It had been a hellish two years. Every part of his being had missed her and what they’d had, but he was still the same man. Still convinced that having a child should never happen.

And now his life had come full circle. Or had it?

He felt as if he was on the precipice of heaven. He could literally see it shining before him. But to get to heaven, he had to turn his back on all the preconceived beliefs he’d held on to for so long. If he made a mistake, did the wrong thing, it wouldn’t be him who suffered, it would be Livvy—and his child.

Heaven had never looked so enticing or so far away.

* * *

The skylight above her bed poured sunshine into the room. Olivia opened her eyes and looked up into blue skies. Even though the skylight was intended for the sitting area of the room, she had deliberately placed her bed beneath it so she could wake up to sunlight. She never wanted to go back to darkness again.

Sitting up, she waited to see how her morning was going to go. After several minutes, she determined that it was going to be a rare day of no morning sickness. She brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and donned running clothes. Standing sideways, she looked in the mirror at her growing belly, smiled, and rubbed it lovingly. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she whispered.

On her way downstairs, she noted with pleasure how the house was coming together. It was a conglomeration of what she and Nic had had in their first home together and new items she’d purchased. Though there were still plenty of bare spots, she refused to rush through filling the house. She planned to live here a long time and was determined to purchase each item deliberately.

She opened the plantation shutters, allowing sunlight to shine throughout the downstairs. Two of the most delightful features of the house were the numerous windows and the open floor plan. When the shutters were open, natural light flooded the entire first floor.

She headed to the kitchen, another favorite part of the house, with its multitude of cabinets and the large island in the middle. She envisioned future homework assignments getting lost on that island beneath breakfast dishes, newspapers, and whatever else busy families accumulated. She smiled at the image.

Sipping a cup of herbal tea, she inhaled the subtle scent of jasmine as she continued with another morning routine.

Opening the front door, she stepped out onto the porch. For several long seconds, she stood there and stared at the SUV parked across the street. Then, just as she did every morning, she went back into the house to begin her day.

After a brisk, refreshing walk on the beach, she made herself a light, healthy breakfast and then turned on soft music to fill the silence, refusing to feel lonely. A spark of sadness threatened, and she fought it back.

Maybe because she wasn’t alone—not really.

After cleaning up the breakfast dishes, she took her tea and walked back to the window. The dark SUV was still there. He never tried to hide from her. She knew he was there. He knew she knew. He never came to the door, never got out of his vehicle. He was just there.

She hadn’t heard from him since she’d left Bermuda. She hadn’t tried to hide from him. With his resources, she knew he’d had no problem finding her. She had wanted him to know where she was.

Unconsciously, her hand went to the gentle swell of her belly. She was well, and the precious life inside her was well. And the man on the outside…was tortured.

She wanted to go to him, reassure him it would be all right. Tell him she knew to the depths of her soul that he would be a good father. But he needed to believe it himself. Her trust in him wasn’t lacking. It was his belief in himself that he had to come to terms with.

It hadn’t been easy living without him, wanting with all her heart to share the excitement and joy of having their baby inside her. She wanted him there to experience each little milestone, and yes, sweet heavens, she had wanted someone to comfort her while she was throwing up and hold her when the nausea finally passed. She had never wanted to do this alone, but she refused to not do it just because she was uncertain. Other than her love for her child and for the stubborn man sitting in his SUV, nothing in life was certain. She had missed out on too much already.

Whether he wanted to share this with her or not was all up to him.

This had been going on for months. Holidays had passed. She had spent a lovely Thanksgiving at Cole and Keeley’s house and enjoyed a delicious Christmas dinner at Dylan and Jamie’s home. She had watched each family, seen the love, the devotion, and yes, the messiness. Both Dylan and Cole led dangerous lives, but their commitments to their families were a testament that it could be done, and done well.

No, she knew it wasn’t as easy as it looked. But the hard things were often the most worthwhile.

Turning away from the window, she resumed her day, determined to continue to live the life she had planned. No matter what happened, what decision Nic made, she would enjoy the life she was creating.

She just prayed that, someday soon, that life would once again include the father of her baby.

* * *

Hawke gripped the steering wheel and stared at the house, trying to will the front door to open. She was late today. For the tenth time in less than a minute, he glanced at the clock on the SUV’s dash. It was almost seven fifteen. Olivia was usually downstairs by now, having opened the shutters and given him a pointed look from the porch before continuing her routine. It was something he counted on.

At seven twenty, he was out of the SUV and striding toward the house. Something was wrong. He knew it. He pulled on the glass door and cursed. Of course it was locked, and he sure as hell didn’t have time to pick the lock. Grabbing a flowerpot filled with geraniums, he slammed it into the glass. Avoiding the jagged glass, he unlocked the door. The solid wood door was another matter but not for a man determined to get inside. It took three slams with his shoulder before a crack appeared and one more before he could break the damn thing down.

The instant he was inside, he yelled, “Livvy!” Taking the stairs three at a time, he was in her bedroom in seconds. The sounds coming from the bathroom told him exactly why she was running late.

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