Page 43 of Fighting His Fate
She nodded dumbly as he headed back into the rain, closing the door firmly behind him. Her fingers traced the spot on her face where he’d kissed her. “Be safe,” she whispered.
23
Brett staredout the rain-spattered windshield of the Jeep, its headlights illuminating a wall of evergreens dancing in the storm. “Turn left at the light,” he directed Mac.
His head was filled with thoughts he didn’t want to think about. Grace at the cabin, waiting for him with the boys. The sweet and irresistible look in her eyes that told him she was feeling all that he was and more. The past three years of his life since returning from the SEALs. The way he’d let the people he cared about slip through his fingers like so much sand.
They were nearing Joni and Luke’s house, and a bitter taste had settled in his mouth. He’d been to their house before—a summer barbecue came to mind—but he was crossing a threshold he’d been unable to traverse since coming home from his last tour of duty. Regret filled his chest, making it hard to breathe.
He could see the scene like it was yesterday, a volleyball net strung across the backyard, music in the air. He’d spiked the ball at Joni, her quick movements throwing it right back at his face. She’d been merciless in her victory, smiling widely and laughing loudly.
Luke had lifted her off the ground in celebration. They were perfect together, those two, and now they were gone.
How could he open himself up to the possibility of something real with Grace when he hadn’t even been able to let Joni and Luke back into his life? He wasn’t okay anymore, wasn’t capable of the kind of commitment true caring required. Yet Grace would be sharing his bed tonight, a vortex of temptation and emotion he would not be able to control.
He’d kissed her cheek—the desire to do it more intense than he could ignore. He was telling himself he needed to stay away from her while simultaneously pulling her tightly against his side. It was as if he needed her nearness to deal with this deep dive into his past, his regrets, his fear for the future. And none of that was fair to Grace.
You’ll just have to stay away from her.
That was the only respectable thing to do, no matter the clear invitation in her stare back at the cabin. They had chemistry, all right, but chemistry couldn’t make him a better man than he was. It couldn’t erase what years in the military had done to him. Couldn’t change who he had become.
“End of the street. Yellow ranch on the right.” He pushed his thoughts away as they pulled up in front of the house. They cleared the property, making sure no one was in the house or on the grounds before taking a look around. Mac started in the kitchen as Brett scanned the living room with his flashlight.
Life, interrupted.
A large red sectional framed a square coffee table. Signs of new parenthood were scattered around the room. A playpen. A changing table tucked into a corner. A tiny blue blanket on the arm of the couch, a green pacifier.
His throat clenched. Joni and Luke should be here with their boys, raising them, changing their diapers in the night. He thought of the paternity test he’d taken just hours before and wondered again how he fit into this scene.
He pivoted on his heel and headed toward the office he’d seen when clearing the house. It was a small room, the oversized desk and chair filling it to the brim. He sat in the chair, knowing instantly it was Joni who primarily used the space. The desk had a photo of the twins in an elaborate frame, a cup full of colored pens and markers, several small geodes, and a gleaming hunk of pyrite.
Joni loved her rocks.
An employee ID badge from Lamont Scientific sat on the desk, and he pocketed it. A wide-screen computer monitor was pushed back against the wall, but a quick search revealed no computer. He picked up an amethyst geode, rubbing his thumb along the sharp ridges of the crystals, letting them scrape his skin. He kept the geode in his hand as he searched through the drawers, his eyes scanning the labels on a long row of files.
Electric bills.
Mortgage.
Someday.
He narrowed his eyes, pulling the curiously named folder out of its nesting place. Inside were several ultrasound images of who could only be Toby and Theo. A birth announcement. He flipped past it, his heart suddenly stopping in his chest. There, in the folder, was an envelope addressed to him. His own script was scrawled beside his address.
RETURN TO SENDER.
He’d never even opened it.
A small sob escaped his mouth and he covered it, regret a living, breathing presence in that space. This envelope had sat on his kitchen island for nearly a week before he’d written on it in a beer-induced spell of self-pity and rage.
He could feel Joni’s presence standing over him as he opened the envelope. It was a birthday card with a stupid dog joke—two dogs sitting at a bar—that was so like her, like him, like their friendship had been, that it hurt. He opened the card and a folded paper fell out.
Dear Brett,
Happy birthday to the best friend who ever lived. I miss your face more than you could know. I hope you read this and know that you are loved no matter what happened over there, no matter how you are today. You are loved, and we both miss you.
Luke and I have started a family. We have beautiful twin little boys named Tobias and Theodore—Toby and Theo for short. I have you to thank for them. When you gave me permission to use your sperm, you allowed Luke and me to create the family of our dreams despite his infertility. I know you were told the sperm was unusable, but I discovered a way to fix it, and Toby and Theo are proof it works.
They’re yours, Brett. You’re their father—well, you and Luke. I’m picturing you reading this and freaking out. I tried calling to talk to you before we went through with it, but you wouldn’t take my calls, so I had to use my best judgment. I decided the world would be a better place with more Brett Champion in it.
