Stricken Resolve (13 page)

I’d said, in a soft whisper, my lips in her
hair, “You are the love of my life and the most important thing to
me. Once the babies are born, I want to marry you. I want to spend
the rest of my life lying awake with you in my arms. Feeling your
body next to mine. My lips are forever sealed with your kiss and
you will always own this.” And I pressed her head to my heart and
breathed her in. For hours I cuddled her in my arms. Her lightly
snoring. Me just soaking in all of her wonderfulness. Her strength,
her courage, her loyalty, her love, her perfection, her trust and
understanding. Everything about her is nothing but perfection in my
eyes.

“You’re doing it again!” a drunken Gonzales
scolds with a wicked smile.

“Yeah… So what… I like thinking about
her.”

Gonzales stands a little wobbly legged and
stretches her hands over her head. Leaving a little bit of the
t-shirt that was covering her midriff to rise and show some of her
tan skin. Longer shirts are needed apparently. I don’t think she
has any clothes that I approve of being around. Or maybe it’s just
because she’s not Emily. Yeah, that’s probably more my problem than
anything. Emily’s dressed rather provocatively a time or two and I
found it hot, not gross.

“Is she beautiful?” She winks at me.

“She’s the most beautiful woman,” I state
firmly, without hesitation. It’s true.

“Does she have tits as nice as mine?” she
flirts and runs her hands up to her breasts, cupping them in her
hands.

I roll my eyes. This horny drunk lady has a
rude awakening about to happen.

“Her tits are better than any woman’s on the
planet. I don’t have to see them all to know,” I growl.

“I bet after having babies her body isn’t as
sexy as mine is,” she purrs, running her hands down her flat
stomach and between her legs, where she stops and cups her sex with
both hands and throws her head back with a throaty moan.

Seriously? I watch gangbangs that Johnathan
partakes in because it’s my job and she thinks this is sexy? Come
on.

“Not happening,” I bark at her.

“Oh. Why not, bad boy? You’re so hot, I’m
hot. And we’re single. We are supposed to be married so let’s do
what married couples do and fuck.” She bites her lower lip and
begins rubbing her crotch with her hand.

“I’m only going to speak nicely one more
time, Gonzales….”

“Penelope,” she moans, cutting me off. “Call
me Penelope, sexy man.”

“Nope! Not going to happen!
Gonzales
.
I might have fucked up and broke up with the love of my life. But I
will not sleep with anyone for the rest of my godforsaken life
besides her. Even if you paid me a billion dollars, I wouldn’t
touch you with a ten foot pole,” I snap, my voice booming in the
room.

“And! For your information, her body carried
my
children. So no matter what that has or hasn’t done to
her body doesn’t matter, because those stretch marks are the most
beautiful beauty marks a woman could
ever
possess. She’s my
Mama Bear… my lady, and you will do well to respect her and my
thoughts of her at all times!” I roar, steam rolling out of my ears
and her eyes widen and her legs begin to shake, in palpable
fear.

“And if you ever — I mean ever — make an
advance on me or talk about my better half like that again, I will
not only make your life a living hell, I will ruin you. Don’t push
my buttons, Gonzales. I’m not to be trifled with. Do I make myself
clear, Sergeant?” I unleash on her and her eyes start to well up
and I don’t care one bit.

“I’m, I’m so… so… sorry. Master Sergeant
James.” She salutes me with a drunk trembling hand and I salute her
back, as is customary, before I turn and leave. Leaving my anger in
my wake. I can’t ever let myself blow up like that again. It won’t
only rain hell upon this earth but I can’t be sure what I might or
might not do, with rage that intense.

Jogging up the stairs, still feeling the
effects of the alcohol, I take a quick pee, wash my hands, lock my
bedroom door and throw my big body onto the bed. It’s time to wash
this day away. One day gone is another day closer to returning to
my Mama Bear.

Chapter Ten

~Emily~

“This way sweetie, the boys have the babies,
so don’t you worry,” Cammy sweetly says, her arm tucked into the
crook of my elbow as she helpfully escorts me up the path of the
beach house property, to the back where the main house sits. She’s
so nice and unbelievably beautiful, clad in a pair of short jean
shorts and a pink tank. Her blonde hair that is about as long as
mine is flowing down her back. Me—I’m schlepping it up in a pair of
grey yoga pants, a huge 2xl black t-shirt that was Papa Bears and
my bear slippers he bought me while I was in the hospital.

Stacy’s carrying Eric’s car seat, my son's
cute little legs covered in an adorable swirly blue bear blanket
that my…. Oh god, the tears can’t come again!

I suck in a deep lungful of salty infused sea
air, in attempt to control my overwhelming urge to throw myself
onto the ground and bawl. Bawl like I’ve done every single day for
the past seven days. He left me a week ago as of today and my
heart’s been crushed to smithereens ever since.

Johnathan has Jenna’s girly car seat in his
gasp and a black hospital diaper bag full of stuff they sent me
home with slung over his opposite shoulder. Wearing a pair of black
board shorts, displaying his legs full of tattoos and a bright baby
blue t-shirt to finish off his look.

I think Shelly was feeling extra guilty about
everything that happened so we have an entire car full of baby
stuff. A breast bump, eight packs of newborn diapers, mini bottles,
pacifiers, those knit underwear that help hold up your pads. Which
I love. You name it, we’ve got it.

Johnathan takes the lead, up the path,
entering the main house through the sliding glass door first. Then
in goes Stacy, with Cammy and I trailing slowly behind. As my feet
edge up against the small set of steps that lead into the house, I
stop. Setting foot into the house is admitting to myself a new and
rather agonizing life without my Papa Bear is about to begin and I
don’t like that, not one bit.

I’ve spent countless silent hours reliving
the short conversation we had before he left us. The conversation
where he broke off the engagement. It didn’t really sink in at the
time because of the high level of emotions and the beautiful life
changing sex we had. Even if he doesn’t want to be engaged to me
any longer, I don’t care. I’m still not taking off this ring and
I’m sure as hell not going to stop loving or wanting him. In
Colorado, when I fell for James, hook, line and sinker, I never
questioned my love for him. Not once. It’s a part of me that is
forever untouchable and something that I am just going to have to
live with. Even if it hurts.

“You comin’?” Johnathan walks back out of the
house and down the steps where I stand frozen in glacial
silence.

“I think she’s deep in thought,” I hear Cammy
explain and she’s right. I am thinking. All I’ve done is think.
About the pain, about my loss, about the twins, about every minute
detail of my fucking shitty existence. Okay maybe that’s a tad
melodramatic but I’m emotional and my sex drive is killing me.

I know, I know, emotional basket-case should
be the furthest from turned on. But apparently the stupid greedy
bitch that takes up her godforsaken residency between my legs has
other ideas. Giving me a crampy stomach every single time I deprive
her for too long. Leaving me with the worst case of women’s blue
balls until I feed her. Which surprisingly relieves a tiny bit of
stress and lets me dip into my ‘Spank Bank’, as men call it, to
kick the pain out for a while and invite the pleasure to fill my
veins with short-lived ecstasy. And it works until about five
minutes past the orgasm when all the emotions flood back in and I’m
left a sloppy, crying, crazy lady, who needs a lobotomy to get past
this shit.

“Hey baby.” Johnathan puts his hand on my
shoulder. “We are home. Would you like to come in?” he offers,
using his other hand to fluidly cut through the air, gesturing
toward the door. I haven’t spoken since
he
left. Except for
brief stints when I’m alone with my babies. It’s not that I want to
worry my family and friends more. I just know once I open my lips
they are going to ask me to tell them how I’m feeling and I don’t
wanna.

Instead of saying anything, I hesitantly nod
twice and attempt to compose myself for the walk. The walk into my
new life. It all just seems too surreal.

“Do you want me to help?” His hand that’s
resting on my shoulder slides down my arm and ends at my hand where
he caresses the back with his palm, over and over he sweetly
touches my hand. My eyes and his are both watching his hand
touching mine. It’s the first time he’s really touched my skin in
what feels like forever. I almost forgot what it feels like.

“Baby...” He stops the caresses and molds his
big hand around mine, holding onto it. “Please let me help you.”
Hearing more than a little desperation in his voice, I nod again. I
guess since he’s been really great this week I can let him
help.

Cammy lets me go and backs away. I don’t know
why. It’s not like I asked her to leave. Well, I haven’t asked
anything of anyone in a week and a few hours. Johnathan takes
point, coming to my right side, his arm snaking around my lower
back to grasp my left hand in his. And up we go, one painful step
at a time. My legs quivering beneath me as he supports my
weight.

“It’s okay baby… just a few more,” he
encourages lovingly, until we hit the landing where my shoulders
finally relax and I blow out a huge sigh. Good… I’m doing good. I
haven’t cried again, yet.

Crossing the threshold into the house, I
watch my feet and once inside with Johnathan still at my side, I
look up…

What the fuck! They did not!

Inside the living room stands Keith, Price,
Deacon, Davis and his wife, Stacy, Kyle and Cammy holding Dylan’s
hand. By the look on his face and the way his body is swaying I can
tell it’s killing my little man to stand there. I don’t say a word
as I break out of Johnathan’s grasp and kneel down, opening my arms
wide for Dylan, who excitedly unhooks from his moms clutch and
bounds toward me with the biggest smile on the planet, his unruly
brown hair bouncing against his forehead. Planting himself in my
outstretched arms, I close around him, holding him tight.

“I missed you!” He screeches into my ear and
I can’t stop smiling as I hold my little man.

“I missed you more,” I whisper back, so only
he can hear.

Pulling away from me, he takes a step back
and places both of his tiny hands on either side of my face.
Looking straight into my eyes. Into my soul.

“Is it true Papa Bear is gone?” And that does
it. His saddened voice pulls me at the seams and tears drip from my
eyes.

Scrunching up my face, trying not to openly
sob in front of him, I nod and bite my lip. This is worse than
anything I’ve had to overcome so far. To see the devastation in a
four year olds face as I watch his angelic face redden and tears
form in his eyes.

I snatch him back up into my arms and I hold
onto him. His head tucked into the crook of my neck. I feel his
innocent tears fall onto my skin as mine slide down my cheeks. I
brace myself and him against my body and I stand with him in my
arms. And the entire room gasps and suddenly I have all the men
except
Deacon, Kyle and Stacy, who Kyle’s holding back,
coming to remove him. I shake off their hands. I don’t give a shit
if I just had surgery. James was the only man this little boy had
as a good father figure in his life and I’m not about to let anyone
take him from me.

“Emily, you can’t…” Johnathan tries to
physically remove my crying Dylan.

Oh hell no!

Reaching up, I cover Dylan’s ear with my hand
and press his head to my shoulder to shield his ears and I twist
out of Johnathan’s prying hands.

“Back. The. Fuck. Off,” I snarl at him and
the entire group takes a big step backward. That’s right fuckers,
this isn’t happening. I’m in charge.

Carrying my poor crying Dylan to the living
room, I sit with him on the couch and spread his legs so one is on
either side of me as I start to gently rock him with my body. To
soothe him.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I whisper to him, my
hand rubbing up and down his back to reassure him.

“Why’d he leave us?” he mutters, his words
barely audible.

“I don’t know, sweetie. He just had to.” I
try to gather up my jumbled emotions to comfort my little guy in
his time of need. That’s when I hear a huge belt of crying ring out
and everyone’s eyes leave me for the briefest of moments and go
searching for the sound.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Stacy
leave and come back into the room a moment later with my angry
Eric.

“Hey sweetie,” I coo at my son in Stacy’s
arms, standing in front of me. He must be hungry, so I pat Dylan on
the back.

“Dylan?”

“Yeah?” He whines.

“Eric needs to eat, can you be a big boy
while I feed Eric and sit next to me?”

He nods against my neck and sits up, sliding
over so Eric can take his spot. Damn, I am wearing a huge shirt and
no nursing bra. Bad choice of wardrobe Em, good one. I internally
roll my eyes at myself.

Stacy comes back over and hands me a minty
green nursing pillow to sidle up against my body and prop Eric up
on, and he drapes a baby blanket over my shoulder to conceal my
breast from the group. He’s such a great best friend. Anticipating
my moves without me having to ask.

If it wasn’t for part of the people here I
wouldn’t need this blanket; I’d just feed exposed. I’m no
prude.