Page 54 of Desperation

“What about Jameson?”

She stiffened at my question. “What about him?” she asked nervously.

“Does he get to do any of this with us? I really think he’d enjoy a trip to the beach.” He was a big part of her life, by far the most important, and I wouldn’t leave him out. I knew they were a package deal, and I’d make it my mission to ensure they were both happy.

Her shoulders eased a bit, and she let out a soft sigh. “I think he would too.”

“So, it’s settled. I get to call you my girlfriend now?” I gave her the biggest, cheesiest grin I could muster, and she rolled her eyes, but she did it with a smile.

“Yes, Kingsley, you can call me your girlfriend.”

I brought her chest flush against mine and pressed in between her legs. “I like it better when you call me by my first name. Actually, I prefer when you’re screaming it.” She sucked in a breath, and a low groan escaped her lips, her legs widening to let me in closer. Then we tested the limits of that whole taking it slow thing.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Hannah

Devon and I only lasted a month of “taking it slow.” It was a little harder to wait for sex with someone who’d already been inside you.

The night we reconnected, we talked into the wee hours of the morning, catching up on all that had happened in the months we were apart. I’d finished my GED and gotten a job at a boutique that sold posh, overpriced clothing. It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but it was the best paying job I could find with no experience or college education, so I endured my catty coworkers and the snooty customers so I could save up for Jameson and me. Other than my car payment, I had no bills since Sandra refused to accept rent, but we came to an agreement of sorts. I helped take care of the horses—grooming them, making sure they were fed, and got plenty of exercise—and did various tasks around the farm.

When I wasn’t working, I was taking care of Jameson, which was a job in itself. Once he became mobile, there was no stopping him. It was exhausting, but I wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world. He was a bright spot in my life, my reward for enduring the darkness and pain.

Drake had attempted to contact me a few times, but I never accepted his calls. I wanted nothing to do with him. Thankfully, he hadn’t pushed for seeing Jameson, but if he did, I had a lawyer at the ready. Sandra’s son, Calvin, who had despised me on sight, was a well-respected family lawyer who knew the whole story about Drake and me. Once he realized I wasn’t after Sandra’s money and thought of her as a dear friend, he softened toward me. We were now good friends as well, and he came home to visit his mother more at my urging. Sandra’s daughter, on the other hand, had yet to come around.

Sandra was my saving grace. She took me in and treated me as one of her own. Jameson even called her “mawmaw.” She was the only grandmother he had. Even if Drake’s mom miraculously reappeared one day, she wouldn’t be to him what Sandra was.

After that night, Devon came over at least twice a week and had dinner with us. Jameson adored him and ran to the window whenever he heard Devon’s truck come up the driveway. How he could distinguish that it was him, I didn’t know, but it brought me great joy to watch his face light up.

“Den!” he called whenever the door opened and crashed into Devon’s legs. Devon always scooped him up and tossed him into the air, pretending he was an airplane. Jameson giggled, a sound that instantly made me smile, no matter how bad of a day I’d had.

Devon and I also had date night once a week. Sandra watched Jameson so we could have some time to ourselves. Sometimes he took me to dinner, and sometimes he brought me to his house and Ibecamedinner. Those nights were my favorite.

Our relationship was the strongest it had ever been. We were no longer trying to avoid each other, knowing if we got close enough, it would endanger us all. We weren’t in a secluded cabin, playing house and pretending like the outside world didn’t exist. Now, it was real. It was on our terms, and we were enjoying every minute of it.

On the day Devon introduced us to his mother, I realized Jameson would have another grandma after all. Glenna took to my son instantly, and they became fast friends. That night when Devon dropped us off at Sandra’s marked another first. After giving me a goodnight kiss, Devon cupped my face with both his hands and gazed into my eyes.

“I love you.” It was the first time he’d said the words outright.

“I love you too,” I whispered against his lips, pulling him in for another kiss. My arms snaked around his neck, holding him as close as I could. “Take me to the loft,” I commanded. He obeyed, scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the barn. We had a special little spot in the loft we liked to sneak away to when we needed a little alone time. He spent the next thirty minutes proving just how much he loved me, over and over again.

I’d started at community college that fall, taking all my general classes. I still didn’t know what I wanted to do, but I had my freshman year to figure it out.

On the day I took my last final the following spring, Devon asked me and Jameson to move in with him. He literally asked my toddler, sinking down to his height and pulling out a lollipop as a bribe to get him to say yes. And I loved him more in that moment than I ever had.

That Christmas, he outdid himself. He rented a gaudy white carriage and decorated it with garland, strings of red flowers, and strands of white lights. Lola was hitched to it, her mane and tail decked out with red and white flowers woven through them. It was so over the top, but I loved it. We bundled up and snuggled under a heavy blanket as the sun began to set. As we strolled past the pond and skirted the pasture where Sandra’s cattle grazed, Devon whispered sweet declarations in my ear. My blood was pumping, boiling hot in my veins by the time we’d made the full loop, pulling up to the barn. If we’d been alone, that carriage would have been christened properly, but we’d had a driver to consider.

It was full dark when we stepped onto the cold, frost-covered ground, the lights on the barn illuminating us under their soft glow. “Your Christmas present is inside,” Devon whispered in my ear. His hot breath contrasted the goose bumps spreading over my arm and the shiver zipping down my spine.

There were strands of white lights strung overhead and lining the loft. A large Christmas tree stood in the far corner, fully decorated and cast in the buttery glow of white lights. Sandra had always talked about decorating this barn and using it for pictures and Christmas dinner. I guess she’d get her wish tomorrow.

“This is beautiful.”

“As are you.” He twirled me, pulling me into his arms to place a soft kiss on my lips.

“How did you pull all this off?”

“I have my ways,” he replied, a mischievous grin curling his lips. He didn’t elaborate, but I didn’t care. I was too mesmerized by my surroundings. He led me across the room to an oversized frame adorned with photos. Jameson, Devon, and I stared back from each shot, and I realized it was a collection depicting our time together. From the very first picture we’d ever taken together to one I recognized from last week, he’d chronicled our relationship, ensuring my son was included. I studied the photos, reaching out to touch one of my favorites from our trip to the beach this past summer. The three of us were covered in sand and sunscreen, but we were laughing, our smiles stretched so far our cheeks had ached. We looked like a happy family. Wewerea happy family. It didn’t matter that Jameson didn’t share Devon’s DNA. He was the only father my little boy knew. He’d been there for us even before Jameson was born.

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