JAX (The Beckett Boys, Book Two) (14 page)

The baby.

Shit, I’m having a baby. A real baby.

Jax reaches his hand down to cup my lower belly. “Are you feeling okay?” Concern is clear all over his face. “We’re getting you into the doctor as soon as you get home. And no more long hours at the bar—I know you’re trying to help, but you need to rest.”

I can’t help but laugh. He’s already moving into protective mode. My sweet man.

The front door opens, and my sister is standing there, eyeing us both with a raised brow. No doubt she’s wondering why we’re just sitting in the car.

“Time to go in and face the firing squad,” I joke.

***

T
he first hour
or so of our visit, things are kind of awkward. Despite my mom regretting how our earlier lunch went, she’s still unsure how to act. When Dad takes Jax into the living room to show off baby pictures of us, and Mom’s in the kitchen finishing up dinner, Della pulls me aside in the bathroom.

“He seems different,” she says to me in a conspiratorial tone. “I don’t know why, but that wild edge to him is gone.”

I can’t stop looking at her through a new light, knowing that I’m pregnant, knowing that she went through this on her own. It makes me feel a rush of admiration for her even more. I reach over and give her a big hug, my eyes filling with tears. God, I’m barely pregnant and I’m already a hormonal mess.

“Whoa,” she says with a laugh, patting my back. “You okay?”

I sniffle and pull away, grabbing toilet paper to blow my nose. “Yeah, sorry.” We decided in the car that we’d wait to tell about the pregnancy for a little while, at least until I get into the doctor and make sure everything is okay. Besides, the news of our engagement is going to be enough of a shock for this visit.

We emerge from the bathroom to find Mom setting the table. I help her finish up, and we take our seats.

Jax sits on my left, and he reaches down and takes my hand, squeezes it. The gesture reminds me we’re a team and we can do this together. God, I love this man. “I got off on the wrong foot with you guys,” he says, his usual straightforward self. “I don’t blame you for your reaction. But I need to tell you that I love your daughter. I love her with everything in me. And I’m going to stay by her side.”

“Guys, we’re engaged,” I tell them, trying not to cringe in fear of their reaction.

There’s silence for a moment. Then, Della squeals. “Oh my God, seriously? Let me see the ring,” she demands.

I laugh. “Oh, no, we didn’t get one—”

“Actually, I wanted to wait until we were here to give it to you,” Jax says beside me, and I turn my head to look at him in confusion. On the table between us sits a black velvet box.

My heart surges to my throat, and I swallow hard. “What…is this?”

Mom says in her usual brusque tone, “Open it up, Brooklyn.” I turn to look at her but can’t tell what she’s feeling.

I crack the box open and see a rich green emerald with a white-gold band.

“I know it’s not a traditional diamond, but this reminded me of your eyes.” Jax takes the ring out and slides it on my finger.

“It fits,” I say in wonder.

“Hey, I do my research.”

“Well,” Dad says, standing up and walking around the table. “Let me congratulate you both.” He reaches out a hand and gives Jax a hearty shake. Then he pulls me into a hug.

“Thank you, Dad,” I whisper against him.

When I pull away, I see Mom standing beside me. A bunch of emotions are flying across her eyes. “I just want you to be happy,” she says.

“I am,” I tell her. “He’s not holding me back. He’s my support system.”

She turns to face Jax. “I’m sorry about your brother. And I’m sorry I blamed you for my daughter’s grades. That wasn’t fair.” She licks her lips. “I know we don’t know each other well, but I’d like the chance for us to.” She reaches up and gives him a hug, then hugs me, too. “Congrats to you both. I want all the best for you. I mean that.”

Cam, who’s in his high chair at the end of the table, begins clapping and laughing. That makes us all spin around and smile with him.

Dinner is a lighter affair. We laugh and talk as we eat. Jax shares stories about his brothers, and my parents chuckle at their adventures. They give kudos to his single dad, and Della opens up about embarrassing stories from my past…just to embarrass me. I reach across the table to slug her.

The whole time, I can’t stop staring at my ring.

“How long have you had this?” I ask him.

“A long time.” He smirks. “It took a lot of strength to wait on giving it to you, especially since I was afraid of losing it.” The inside joke about our first real interaction together makes me chuckle. “But I thought they might want to feel like they’re part of us, too.”

His thoughtfulness makes my heart erupt. “You’re the sweetest.”

“Don’t let that get around,” he teases. His gaze drops meaningfully to my belly. “I’m so excited to start a life with you.”

“I am, too,” I tell him.

We eat dessert, then Della busts out an old Jenga set we kept in the basement, and we play. Cam reaches over—he just wants to knock the whole thing down. I give him a block to play with, and he gnaws on it, drooling happily.

When it’s time for bed, Jax heads upstairs. I go to follow him but I’m stopped by my mom’s hand on my arm.

“So, how far along are you?” she drawls.

A hot flush crawls up my throat and across my cheeks. “How…did you know?” I can’t lie to her about it.

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve had kids and I’ve been around enough pregnant people to have seen what it looks like. Plus, you seem different. Were you going to tell us?”

“Not on this trip,” I say sheepishly. “We didn’t want to overload you.”

“And yet he still wants to marry you.” Her voice is level.

I nod. “He loves me and he’s excited about the baby.”

Mom fixes me with a hard gaze, then tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “This guy isn’t like Della’s ex. I can tell that just from being around him today. And from the way he looks at you, he thinks you hung the moon.”

A warmth spreads through my chest at her words. “He’s not perfect, I suppose, but he’s perfect for me. Does that make sense?”

She nods and her eyes are glimmering. “Yes. It surely does.”

When she presses a kiss to my brow, my eyes fill with tears. How many times have I cried today? “Go upstairs and get your rest,” she says. “You’re a mommy now. You gotta take care of yourself.”

I shuffle up and strip my clothes off once in my old bedroom. Jax is stretched out on the double bed, eyeing me.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Mom guessed.”

“Fuck. What is she, a womb ninja or something?” He sits up. “Okay, we’ll just have to think of what to do—”

“It’s all okay.” I slide into bed and he wraps his arms around me.

“And you’re sure she’s not pissed off? I mean, she handled the engagement well, but this is a whole other level.”

“Her bark’s worse than her bite,” I say. “And besides, she can tell you’re serious about me. That’s all she needs to know.”

I can feel him relax against me. “Good. I’m just worried for you. I know how important they are to you.”

“You are, too, you know.”

He strokes my cheek and smiles. “Ready for bed, darling? I’m fucking wiped.”

I nod my head, smiling and feeling so happy I could burst.

Jax reaches over to click off the bedside light and resumes his spot, holding me close like always.

His hands slide to my belly protectively and he hugs me even closer, kisses the back of my neck. “It’s better than a dream, isn’t it?” he whispers, just when I think he’s fallen asleep.

I nod my head. “Yes. Better than I ever could’ve imagined.”

“That’s how I feel too,” he murmurs.

A couple of minutes later, his breathing is soft and even, and I realize he’s asleep. But even in sleep, his strong arms are there, as if he means to keep me safe no matter what.

I feel tears start pouring from my eyes, but I’m not embarrassed anymore. Because somehow it all worked out, and I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Finally, I feel myself drifting off, more peaceful and relaxed than I’ve been, maybe in my entire life.

We stay that way until morning, two bodies intertwined, hearts connected, a small family about to begin.

A
tlanta was
full of new things.

Strange things.

Confusing things, even.

I’d never, for example, seen so many clubs proudly flying rainbow flags (which delighted me) or so many one-way streets (which horrified me). I’d never experienced traffic as bad as the connector at rush hour, and I’d definitely never had so many dining options at two o’clock in the morning (including a place where apparently one could order both egg rolls and nachos, delivered, which was the trifecta or strange, confusing, and new).

But traffic aside, it was a thrilling place to be— not just Atlanta—but being enrolled at Harton University. Finally, finally, finally, I was out of my tiny town of Tifton and getting my actual life started.

Even as I stood in the middle of Harton University’s beautiful campus, I was blown away by the fact that I was actually there.

Everything felt fresh and new and vibrant. I could smell the grass and see the gorgeous buildings, and it was like a dream I didn’t want to end.

A cheery girl on the school’s north campus handed me a thick folder. “Here you go— Copeland, Sasha, right?” She flashed a smile at me and continued talking. “This is your welcome packet. There’s a campus map, a social calendar for upcoming freshmen, and your housing information. Looks like you’re in Wells. Which…wait. That can’t be right,” the girl said, frowning and pulling the folder back.

“No, Wells is right— that’s the one that was on the letter they sent to my house,” I said.

“But Wells is the upperclassmen suites. You’re registered as a freshman,” the girl said. “You should be in Parks.”

I smiled, though I could tell the expression was more than a little tight. “I’m a freshman, but I’m nineteen and didn’t really want to do all the freshman stuff with the eighteen year olds. So they put me in Wells.”

“Oh! Ok,” the girl said, looking a little baffled. “Are you sure, though? The freshman mixers are a great way to meet people.”

“I’m not really interested in mixers. I’m just trying to get my education,” I replied in my best polite, yet final, voice.

“Sure,” the girl said. She shrugged and surrendered the folder. “If you change your mind, talk to your RA. She can probably get you on the freshman calendars even though you aren’t in Parks.”

“Thanks,” I said. I tucked the folder under my arm and walked away— or at least, I tried to walk away. I was more or less stopped dead in my tracks by a row of cheerleaders who broke into cries of “Go Rams!” as I started down the path. At the end of the path, should I survive the cheerleader gauntlet, was the school’s costumed Ram mascot and a photographer.

“No, thanks!” I called to them, and tried to walk the other direction.

“Come on! You’re joining the herd. You’ll regret not getting a picture to commemorate it,” the nearest cheerleader said. She had a kind face with bright red lipstick and a Rams logo fake tattoo on one cheek.

Cheerleaders and the sports they were attached to weren’t really my thing— but I didn’t hate them either. Everyone needed to find their tribe, after all; the cheerleaders’ tribe was for people who possessed amazing hair and unheard of flexibility; mine was with those who called the library home.

“Come on,” the cheerleader pleaded. “One quick photo with Ramses! We’re supposed to get one with everyone who picks up their registration. They’re doing a big collage in the football program, the sort where they use everyone’s photo to make a giant ram? You won’t want to be left out.”

I really wanted to get to my suite, so I could chart my schedule. But hey, I had come all the way to Atlanta to attend school— why not mark the occasion with a photo? It’d definitely look a lot nicer than one of my infamous scheduling charts in a scrapbook, someday.

“Sure,” I said, finally. The girl slipped her slim arm through mine and led me down the path, cheerleaders on both sides hooting as we went. I was deposited by the Ram mascot’s— er,
Ramses’
— side, and a photographer knelt down to snap a picture.

“Say,
beat the hornets
!” the photographer shouted.

“Beat the hornets!” I said cheerfully. “Whoever they are.”

The photographer lowered the camera, looking stunned. “What? Are you serious?”

I realized that the cheerleaders had gone quiet. “Oh. Um. I just don’t really do the sports thing. Sorry.”

The cheerleaders glanced at one another; the photographer looked at the ground. I turned to Ramses, like his giant cartoon eyes might offer some sort of solace; instead, the light hit the costume eyes in such a way that I could see through them, to the disappointed eyes of whomever was wearing the costume.

“But I hope…we beat the hornets all the same?” I offered.

“Honey, you’re gonna have to do a lot better than that here at Harton,” the photographer said, smiling pityingly, and before I could resume a smile, snapped a picture.

* * *

W
ells was
toward the center of campus, in a fairly new building (unlike the freshman dorm, Parks, with its lack of air conditioning and concrete walls). I spun the keycard around my fingers and thought yet again about how hard I’d worked to get here.

How many hours I’d slaved away at Tifton’s only fancy restaurant— the golf course clubhouse—where in-between tee-times, wealthy patrons could pop in for fried chicken and mint juleps and really get the full Southern dining experience.

It’d taken more than a year of working every available shift at the clubhouse for me to save up enough for Harton. The realization that I was actually, truly in college now, hit me full force as I went up the steps, waved my keycard in front of my suite’s lock. It beeped, lit up green, then whirred open. I turned the handle and stepped into my new home.

Which smelled like hair products.

“Hello?” I called, stepping inside. The front door had opened into a common area, which looked very lived-in, especially given that today was move-in day. I frowned and called out again. “Anyone? Hello?”

A stunning girl with thick auburn hair poked her head through one of the bedroom doors and smiled. Her teeth were so straight that she looked like she belonged in a mouthwash commercial. “Hey! Are you our new Lily?” she asked.

I had no idea what she meant, but decided to play along.

“I guess?” I said, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind me. I dropped my two shoulder bags down beside my rolling suitcase, and my arms thanked me for the relief.

The auburn-haired girl stepped into the living area, a towel pulled around her body. I couldn’t help but blush a little— I couldn’t think of a time when anyone had seen me in just a towel. Tifton, like most small towns, was too modest for that.

“I’m Piper,” the girl said, extending a hand, trying to hold the towel up with the other.

“Sasha,” I said, smiling.

“Is that the new Lily?” another voice called.

“Yep,” Piper yelled back. The other second girl emerged from her bedroom in a sundress with so many cutouts, it was a feat of engineering that it held together. She introduced herself as Kiersten, taking care to enunciate the name in a way that told me she was tired of being called “Curr-sten”, “Kristen”, and “Cry-sten.”

“Look at you. You’re adorable!” Kiersten said, shaking my hand.

“Thanks,” I said, unsure when I’d last been called adorable. Elementary school? “What’s a Lily?” I added.

“She was our old suite mate. She isn’t coming back this year, so they filled her room with you,” Piper explained.

“What happened to her?” I asked.

“Flunked out. She was a party girl.
The
party girl, actually,” Kiersten said, looking a little too delighted at her suite mate’s demise. “We moved into Wells right after spring semester, but she was out before July. Not that we aren’t glad to meet you, but we are a little sad that we won’t get to keep using the spare room as a closet. We were going to do it up Kardashian style,” she finished wistfully.

“Oh! So you’ve been here all summer?” I asked. That explained why the place looked so lived-in; the pictures on the walls, the array of empty liquor bottles decorating the top of the fridge, the un-vacuumed floor. It was tidy enough, but definitely didn’t have that new-apartment feel or fresh-paint smell.

“Trust me, New Lily. Once you’re at Harton, you don’t want to go home, not even for a few months,” Piper said wryly. “Everyone basically stays over the summer. Everyone worth knowing anyway. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

Piper and Kiersten lead me to the back corner room. It was furnished with all the stock Harton stuff— a twin bed, a dresser, a desk and a nightstand, all of which were covered in lint and makeup dust.

“Is the rest of your stuff in your car? We can get some of the guys to help carry it up,” Piper said. She was still wearing a towel, but was doing so with such confidence that if she’d told me it was a new style of dress, I’d have believed it.

“Uh, no. This is all my stuff,” I said, motioning to the suitcase and my shoulder bag. “And I don’t have a car.”

Piper and Kiersten looked at each other, wide eyes. “That’s it? That’s literally all you brought?” Piper asked.

I tried to laugh their surprise off. “I mean, I have more stuff at home. But I had to take a bus up here, so it’s not like I could bring everything.”

“You took a
bus
?” Kiersten asked.

“Yeah. I don’t have a car.”

“You don’t have a
car
?” Piper asked.

I did my best not to show my annoyance with this line of questioning.

“Nope. No car.”
And even if I had one, I could never have paid for a parking pass on campus
, I thought.

“Everyone in Atlanta has a car,” Piper said. “You’re going to have to hitch rides if you want to go anywhere off campus.”

“I guess…I’ll just try to stick to the campus,” I said, shrugging.

“Oh,
honey
. Where are you from, again?” Piper asked sweetly.

“Tifton. It’s near Boone.”

“And where is Boone?”

“Sort of near Valdosta.”

“Oh,” Piper said, finally recognizing a city. “Well, Sasha, you’re in Atlanta now, and more importantly, you’re at Harton. Stick with us, okay? We’re basically experts at this place. Plus, guys are going to be all about this homegrown look,” she paused to motion at my body, “and we can tell you which ones are worth the trouble.”

I laughed a little. “That sounds great. Thanks.”

“So,” Kiersten said, “what are your lottery dates?”

“I…don’t…know what you’re talking about,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“The football lottery tickets? Oh my god, you haven’t registered yet?” Kiersten said, looking horrified. “That’s okay, it’ll be okay, don’t worry. You’re a sophomore, so you’ll be third tier for dibs. It’s not great, but it’s better than being a freshman. They get shit tickets, and that’s why they always end up selling them— it’s more fun to just tailgate than watch from the nosebleeds. Where’d you transfer from, anyway?”

“I didn’t transfer, actually,” I said. “I’m a freshman. I just took a year off after high school.”

“Oh! So you took like a gap year! Like the British take,” Piper said.

“Sure. Exactly,” I said. Technically, a gap year was more for fun and travel and relaxing, not smiling at smug corporate types who slapped my ass as I walked away from tables. But I had to admit, imagining that time as a gap year sounded a lot more pleasant, so I’d take it.

“Right. Ok. Well, we’re going to get you registered for the ticket lottery, New Lily,” Piper said, shaking her head. “And you’re going out with us tonight.”

“Tonight? I sort of have plans. But that’s really nice of you,” I said.

“Cancel them. What are they?” Kiersten asked.

“I was going to do a walk through of all my classes? I don’t know where the buildings are. Other than on the map,” I said.

Kiersten looked beyond horrified now. “Jesus Christ, no. No, no, no. You’re our suite mate, so what you do reflects on us. You’re coming to Football House,” Kiersten said, shaking her head.

I chewed my lip.

Kiersten sighed dramatically. “Ok, fine. Football House is near the Arts and Sciences building. We’ll take you by it on the way, as long as you promise not to tell anyone about…uh…anything. Let us do the talking, okay? Trust me, New Lily, you’ve totally lucked out getting in our suite. We’re going to show you how to Harton like a pro.”