Conception (The Wellingtons, #4) Read online

  I step closer, nodding, waiting for her to continue. But then she decides it’s time to slam the door in my face.

  Pounding on the door, I yell her name. “Mrs. Mayfield! What the fuck does that mean?”

  The porch light turns off, plunging me into darkness, signifying that she’s already divulged what little she plans on telling me. The rest? Apparently, I’m shit out of luck.

  Think, Knox.

  So she’s not here, but she’s not far. Snapping my fingers, I race back to my car.

  Mickey’s.

  Where else would she be?

  Except when I slip my leather jacket on, run a hand through my hair, and force myself to remain calm and walk into Mickey’s like I own the place—not exude the desperation I’m feeling—Amelia’s nowhere to be found.

  The chime of the door cuts through the Queen song playing on the jukebox, and when I look to the bar, Sunny’s surprised eyes are on mine. She’s in the middle of wiping the bar, her movements stopping when our gazes meet. I make a beeline for her, and she raises an eyebrow as I drop myself into a stool across from her.

  She turns away, and I tap my fingers on the counter impatiently while she pours two fingers of whisky then slides it to me.

  “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  “Nice to see you too, Sunny.” That’s enough for pleasantries. “Where’s Amelia?”

  She chuckles. “Wow, you get right to the point, don’t you?”

  My forefinger rims the glass she put in front of me. The whisky is calling to me, its sweet scent a promise to take the edge off, to calm me down, but if Amelia isn’t here, I can’t be impaired.

  “When you go eight goddamn months away from the woman you love, yeah, you kinda wanna get to the point.”

  Her eyes widen. “Well, this certainly is an interesting turn of events.”

  “Sunny, as much I enjoy you, I already got the run around from your grandmother.”

  She leans across the bar. “You left, Knox. Why should I tell you where she is?”

  Irritation swells in me, and I reel in my temper before I do something I regret. Like shaking Sunny until she tells me what I want to know.

  Tossing back the whisky, I slam the glass down, wincing when it nearly shatters under my fingertips. “Why do you people keep saying that? She pushed me away!”

  “You weren’t here, Knox. I was. I was the one brushing her tears. The one forcing her to eat when she had no appetite. She was a mess and you weren’t here,” she repeats.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to argue with her. Of course I didn’t know what a mess she was. Amelia all but pushed me away. I was ready to jump all in, headfirst, into the deep end with her. Instead, I basically got a, “Thanks for a great summer. Maybe I’ll see ya around,” from the woman who’d captured my heart.

  Not wanting to pour out my heart to Sunny in front of the whole crowd who got to witness my summer romance last year, I lean in, lowering my voice. “I’m not a fucking mind reader, Sunny.”

  “Maybe you should’ve been.”

  I hold her steely gaze, fighting the urge to punch my fist through the counter, both because I need to keep my calm to get answers and I’m not really keen on breaking my hand before finding her.

  Thankfully, Joe takes this exact moment to walk behind the bar, a sight for sore eyes. I nearly sigh in relief when he saunters towards us. Throwing a towel over his shoulder, he glances between me and his girl. I don’t know if it’s the desperation on my face or what, but the guy takes pity on me. He takes out two shot glasses and pours something without a label. Then he tosses one back and slides the other towards me. I let the peace offering rest in front of me, not taking my eyes off his girlfriend.

  “Sun, babe, go check on the guys at the pool table and let me talk to Knox.”

  She pouts up at him, but he sets his jaw. Then she rolls her eyes. “Fine. At least this way I won’t be lying when I tell Amelia it wasn’t me.”

  I raise my empty glass in a toast to him. “You’re a saint for taking that one off the market. It takes one hell of a man to handle her.”

  Joe grins. “You have no fucking idea.”

  And I don’t want to.

  “I didn’t leave Crystal Cove because I wanted to,” I say. “I had to go. Amelia told me to.”

  “I don’t think it’s so much that you left. More that you never came back.”

  Before I can protest, because I really want to fucking protest, Joe leans a forearm on the bar.

  With a low voice, he keeps going. “I know, man. It makes no fucking sense. Women. I’ve overheard enough to know that Amelia wanted a clean break. That she was leaving it up to chance, fate, whatever you want to call it. You’d meet again if you were supposed it. If not, that’s life. But when it comes to women, they say one thing and mean another. As men, we’re apparently supposed to get that.”

  “I wanted to come back as soon as my dad was settled, but Amelia told me not to. I thought I was respecting her wishes.”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “So why are you here now?”

  I don’t even have to think about it. “Fuck her wishes.”

  A slow grin splits his face, and I impatiently wait for him to tell me what I want to know. “I was hopin’ you’d say that.” His brow furrows, and I wonder what’s coming next. “Listen, things for Amelia since you left…haven’t been the easiest. She missed you somethin’ fierce. I never thought I’d meet a woman more stubborn than my Sunny, but Amelia these last few months? She’s been about ten times worse.”

  The hair on the back of my neck rises. “What do you mean she’s having a hard time? What the fuck’s been going on?”

  Joe sighs. “Not my place to tell you. Trust me, man. I’ve got your back in this. I’m in your corner, and if she’d be honest with herself, Sunny is, too. She’s just playing momma bear to her best girl. But what’s goin’ on with Amelia? You need to hear that from her.”

  “Then tell me where I can find her.”

  He glances at the empty glass in front of me. “That your first one?”

  I nod.

  “She’s fine, but…”

  My blood runs cold at that but.

  And when Joe leans in to tell me where I can find her, any possible buzz I may have had dissipates. I’m stone-cold sober, and if I don’t get to Amelia immediately, I may just lose my freaking shit.

  SHE’S IN THE HOSPITAL.

  If I weren’t so intent on getting to her, I would wring the necks of Sunny, her grandma, and her boyfriend all at the same time. Precious time has passed since I’ve been looking for her only to find out she’s laid up in some hospital bed the next county over? Fucking pricks.

  It’s late, nearly midnight, and I have no idea if they’ll even let me see her. I’m racking my brain, trying to think of ways to sweet-talk the nurses, when I walk through the doors on the third floor, where Joe told me I’d find her.

  I hit registration, hoping the pretty nurse behind the counter doesn’t notice the cold sweat across my brow. I clear my throat, getting her attention.

  “Hi. How can I help you tonight?” she asks in a sweet singsong voice.

  “Yeah, uh, I’m here for Amelia. I know it’s late, but I just got into town and my buddy told me she was here. I didn’t know…” I trail off.

  “Hmm, let me see here,” she says mostly to herself, grabbing a file from a stack to her right. She thumbs through the papers before returning her attention to me with that same sickeningly sweet smile. “And your name, sir?”

  “Knox Wellington.”

  “Of course. We usually don’t allow visitors after nine p.m., but there’s a note here to let you come whenever you arrive. You must be the lucky man,” she says, giving me a wink.

  I have no idea what it means, but I’ll take it. If Amelia’s put me on a list so I can visit her, that has to be a good sign, right?

  Except Amelia’s put me on a list so I can visit her in the hospital, which has to be an ominous sign.

  Sh
e pushes her chair back and rounds the counter. “Follow me.”

  I reach out and lightly touch her arm, stopping her. “Can you tell me if she’s okay? Or if…” I trail off, not wanting to voice those horrifying words.

  The nurse gives me what I’m sure is supposed to be a reassuring smile.

  Words would work a hell of a lot better, lady.

  “She’s absolutely fine. Just resting after the excitement.”

  Doubt must cloud my face, because she pats my arm.

  “The first time is always as scary as it is exhilarating. Trust me—aside from sleepless nights in the foreseeable future, she’ll bounce back in no time.”

  I have no idea what she’s talking about, and honestly, I don’t care to decode it. I just want to see Amelia.

  When the nurse stops outside a door, she lifts a finger to her lips. “Amelia has one of the few single rooms on the floor—thanks to her grandmother, of course. Still, try to keep it quiet as she needs all the rest she can get. I can bring you an extra pillow and blanket if you’d like.”

  Eager to get inside the room, I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”

  She nods, and I’m sure she’s not surprised. I’m practically bouncing on my toes.

  “If you need anything,” she says, “just come to the desk. Have a good night. And congratulations.”

  My brow furrows at her words. What the hell? I shrug it off and slowly open the door so I can slip inside the room. Then I close it shut. My ass hits the wood as I breathe a sigh of relief that I’m finally here. Finally with her.

  But this isn’t the reunion I expected.

  She’s lying there, not moving, nothing but the sound of the television’s muffled volume. The lights are low, and even though I don’t want to disturb her, I have to touch her. I have to feel her. I have to know she’s okay. Because all of this? It’s still a mystery to me and I have no idea what I’m facing.

  What we’re facing.

  I tiptoe across the room, cursing when I take hold of the chair and it scrapes noisily against the linoleum floor. Just as I’m settling into the chair next to her bedside, Amelia murmurs something in her sleep. She looks so tiny, nearly swallowed up in the hospital bed, with crisp, white blankets tucked all around her. I reach underneath the material, and once I find her hand, I hold it in both of mine, lowering my head to the bed, willing her to be okay. Hell, I don’t even know what’s wrong.

  “Knox?” The surprise in her sleepy voice is nearly drowned out by a yawn. Her usually vibrant eyes are dull, exhaustion evident in them. I think she’s happy to see me until she opens her mouth again. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Okay, so I wasn’t expecting her to welcome me with arms wide open, but I didn’t think she’d be upset to see me.

  “Amelia—”

  She takes her hand from mine and pushes herself up, resting back against fluffed-up pillows. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says, darting her gaze to the door, then back to me.

  “If I shouldn’t be here, then why would you put my name on the list? Why tell the hospital I could visit you anytime, day or night?” I retort, not even trying to mask my annoyance.

  “Because. It was wishful thinking. I didn’t actually expect you to show up.”

  Ouch.

  “Yeah,” I say, “considering you never told me you were in the hospital in the first place, I can see why you wouldn’t expect me here. Good thing I came to town when I did.”

  She sighs, running dainty fingers through messy hair. “Knox…” She trails off, her voice trembling.

  When I try to take her hand, she moves it away. But I’m undeterred. I cup her chin and coax her gaze towards me.

  “What is it?” I ask her. “What’s wrong? Why are you here? How long have you been here? Just tell me what you need, Amelia. I’ll do anything.” The words are rushed. Desperate. I need to know what the hell is going on.

  “I’m fine. We don’t need anything from you.” She clamps her mouth shut, her eyes darting away from mine.

  If I wasn’t so damn concerned about her condition, I’d take her over my knee until she gives me the truth. Eight excruciating months with an Amelia-shaped hole in my heart and this is all I get from her. A vague answer and not a hint of interest that I’m here. I don’t buy it. If I have to beg the truth out of her, I’ll go down on my knees.

  “Bullshit, Amelia. I’ve missed you every goddamn second since I left this place. I dreamt of you night after fucking night only to wake up pissed at the world that you weren’t next to me. You can’t sit there and tell me you didn’t feel the same. That you don’t still feel the same.”

  Sorrow fills her eyes. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t miss you. Of course I did. But things have changed, Knox. And I’m telling you right now: We don’t need anything from you.”

  I missed it before, but when she repeats her words, I’m hung up on one.

  We?

  Before I can ask her what she means, there’s a knock on the door. I ignore it, not giving a damn who’s there.

  My eyes don’t leave Amelia, even though she’s staring off behind me.

  As the door creaks open, all the blood drains from Amelia’s already pale face. The shocking pallor of her skin unnerves me, and when I see who’s entered, it’s my turn to be utterly rocked to my core.

  I can sense idea how much my world is about to change. How much it’s already changed in the past twenty-four hours and I’ve been completely clueless to it—until the same pretty nurse who led me to Amelia’s room walks in with a tiny bundle cocooned in a blanket and cradled in her arms.

  Until a piercing wail comes from her arms.

  Until little arms lift into the air like he’s already fighting the Great Ali in his sleep.

  Until she smiles at Amelia, who’s holding her arms out.

  I push my chair back and stand, wanting to both run from the room and haul Amelia into my fucking arms. Because as the realization hits me, only one thing crosses my mind

  This.

  Is.

  Mine.

  No.

  She is mine.

  No. Something in my brain tells me even that’s wrong.

  They.

  They are mine.

  “Someone’s hungry and missing his mommy,” the nurse coos.

  His. Mommy.

  Amelia.

  His mommy.

  Amelia.

  His.

  Mommy.

  Congratulations. The nurse’s words echo in my mind.

  Congratulations.

  Sleepless nights.

  The first one’s the hardest.

  They’re mine.

  He’s mine.

  I have a fucking son.

  I’m a fucking dad.

  I’m rocked to my core.

  He’s my son.

  “Knox.”

  Amelia’s soft voice brings me back to Earth. My heart hammers as I slowly look from the floor to her. The baby’s nestled against her chest, little lips, the tiniest I’ve ever seen, suckling at her breast.

  I stumble and fall back into the chair.

  A throat clears. The nurse watches me with curious eyes, a tiny smile playing at her lips. When she flicks her gaze to Amelia, she takes her cue at Amelia’s nod.

  “Thank you, Jenny,” Amelia says. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Of course. Whenever little Branson here is ready to go back to the nursery, just ring the button.”

  And just like that, the sudden euphoria I’m feeling comes crashing down.

  It’s like I was playing my favorite record only to have it scratch and suddenly stop right at the glorified drum solo.

  The door shuts and silence hangs in the air between us. Amelia watches me. I watch the baby.

  My son.

  Branson.

  All the joy of having a son is overshadowed for the briefest of moments. I’m a dick, but with the shock of both his…existence and then his name, I can’t help myself.

  “This wa
sn’t the way it supposed to happen. This wasn’t what I wanted.” I’m mumbling more to myself, but with Amelia’s gasp, I know she heard. And that makes me wince.

  Dear mouth, insert foot, ’cause I’m a jackass.

  Her eyes flash with both anger and torment. Her jaw clenches, and with her teeth gritted, she gives me an arctic stare. It’s a sight. My son suckling at her breast while she’s shooting daggers at me. It’s the most inappropriate time, but my cock twitches.

  Until she opens her mouth.

  “Then you can leave, Knox. I didn’t ask you to come here. I’m not asking you to stay.”

  It’s almost enough to make me laugh. As if I’m fucking going anywhere. Oh, no. Amelia just earned herself a fucking shadow for life.

  “No. That’s not that what I meant. It came out wrong.” I run a hand through my hair, still reeling.

  I can’t believe it. I’m a dad. I have a son. My brain’s a jumbled mess, and it’s like I have sand in my mouth, unable to speak as I attempt to figure out how to explain without her thinking I’m an idiot.

  “I should’ve told you before, but you didn’t want to talk about names or anything that could connect us. You know I’m a Wellington. I’m also a junior.” Something that looks like realization flashes in her eyes, but I hurry to explain further. “My dad’s Knox Nathaniel, as am I, and I’d always planned on carrying on the tradition with my first son.”

  She doesn’t even have to think about her retort. “Then feel free to find someone else to have your firstborn with.”

  I want to fucking scream. To shout at her. But she just gave birth to my son, so I rein my temper in.

  I stand, moving closer to her, and look down at the little guy who’s now nuzzling against his momma’s skin. My little guy. “Amelia, I don’t give a damn what his name is. He’s mine. That’s all that matters. You’re both mine.”

  She winces, and I have a feeling it’s going to take some convincing. But I don’t care how long it takes. It’s a battle I’ll wage until the end of my days if that’s what it takes.

  I came back for Amelia because I love her. I need her. I can’t live my life without her. This little guy? He makes it that much more imperative that I make her believe it.