Page 42 of Forsaking All Others

But her running to Maverick was really the least of it all. As I continued to listen, I began to realize Maverick wasn’t the third wheel. That role belonged to me. Not a fucking thing had changed since that day in the gas station. Sure, I had somehow convinced Holly to take my name, and give me a son, but she was still Maverick’s and no man, nor woman, will ever change that. I can love her with everything I am, and that love will never be enough.

I’ll never win.

I let that knowledge sink in and by the time Maverick rang my bell, I had come up with my own plan. You know that saying—if you can’t beat them, join them—well, being the nice, dependable guy didn’t work for me. Holly had a type, and I wasn’t it. That’s why I offered to move the guns for Maverick. I figured if I pulled it off, Holly would see me in a different light. That she’d love me like she loved him.

I lost touch with reality and by the time I realized it was too late. I had convinced myself Theo wasn’t even mine and ignored every call and every damn text. I abandonedmyboy.

Theo’s face flashes before me and Maverick’s voice echoes in my head.

I don’t make a habit out of divulging where my dick has been, but I’ll give you a courtesy— I haven’t touched Holly in years and that’s the God’s honest truth.

“Damn it,” I grind out, my hands tightening around the steering wheel. I need to hear his voice. I need to tell him I love him. But after Maverick’s men loaded my truck, they took my phone. They handed me a burner phone, one that’s programed only to call King and track my every move. Supposedly I’ll get my phone back once the guns are in the hands of some guy named Parrish and I return home—so tomorrow some time.

That’s too far away.

Spotting a sign for a trucker’s rest stop a couple of miles ahead, I make the decision to pull over. King was clear when he handed me the phone—no pitstops.

Well, that’s just too damn bad.

Maverick gets Holly.

He gets his guns delivered.

He gets it all, but he does not get my boy.

Theo is mine and he spent the last twenty-four hours in the hospital, wondering why his dad wasn’t there to hold his hand.

Shame washes over me as I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out the burner phone. Keeping one hand on the wheel, I peer down at the screen and find the one programmed contact. I click send and raise the phone to my ear. A horn blares and tires screech in the distance as I lift my head. Blinking, I try to focus but the oncoming headlights temporarily blind me.

“Shit!”

I jerk the wheel just as King answers the phone.

It slips from my hand.

The horn honks again.

I cut the wheel and close my eyes.

Theo, I love you.

Chapter Twelve

Holly Armstrong

A woman doesn’t realizehow strong she truly is until she becomes a mother. It starts during pregnancy, when she watches her body stretch to accommodate the growing life inside of her. That strength amplifies when she goes into labor, when her body feels like it’s being split in two to give birth. Then she hears that baby cry for the first time and all the pain she felt moments ago just fades away.

As the years go by she’ll come to learn that there will be plenty of times when defeat threatens, when she locks herself in the bathroom and has herself a good cry. Her kids will bang on the door, they’ll call for her, maybe even cry for her and she will ask herself how she’s ever going to get through another day. She’ll wonder if the strength she saw in herself was a figment of her imagination. Then she’ll pick herself up from the floor and press her ear against the door. She’ll remind herself that those little voices calling her name need her, they need her strength and all her love. The defeat she felt vanishes just as quickly as the pain she felt bringing them into the world did and her strength rushes back in huge waves.

I didn’t lock myself in the bathroom and have myself a cry, but my strength was tested over the last twenty-four hours, probably more than ever before because I wasn’t tested only as a mother, but as a wife too. But that’s another thing a woman realizes once she has children—every other role she carries becomes secondary and though she loves her husband, her child will always take priority over everyone else.

I didn’t have much time to process all that was going on with my marriage before Theo got sick and I went into mother mode. I thought the problems Colt and I had would still be there in the morning, that we could push our differences aside and put our son first. I mean, if a child becomes a mother’s first priority, doesn’t it become the father’s too? The answer to that question is simple—it depends on the man. They’re not all wired the same.

Some are exceptional.

Take the man buckling my son into his car seat. The man who stood with us until he was cleared for discharge and then lifted him onto his shoulders and carried him out of the hospital. He’s not his father. Not even his stepfather.

He’s just Mav.

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