Be My Hero(54)

He took my hands and rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. "Then what's wrong?"

"I just . . . " I shook my head, not sure where to start. So I blurted,  "Reese was the first person I ever really loved, like, I actually care  more about her than I do myself. I only want to see her happy."

"Okay." He nodded, following along with me so far and letting me know he was willing to listen.

"And then, I guess, in a lukewarm cousinly way, I love Mason too . . .  because he's so good to Reese and he let me move in with them when he  hated me."

That one made him scowl, so I rushed to add, "And I love Skylar. Almost  as soon as I knew she existed, she wormed her way into my heart." I  waved a hand. "I mean, after I was finished freaking out because I'd  just found out I was going to have a baby. But yeah, I fell for her  pretty much immediately. "         

     



 

Pick smiled and tightened his fingers around mine.

"I love Julian too," I told him, "from, like, the first day I met him."

Drawing my hands to his mouth, Pick kissed my knuckles. "Thank you."

I nodded. "So, all this . . . love . . . it's really only happened  within the last year. You'd think I'd be overwhelmed from it, right? I  mean, I go from basically caring about no one but myself, and not even  really about myself either, to completely loving four people. But I'm  not overwhelmed. Not at all. In fact, I feel as if I have so much more  room, because . . . " I looked up and met his beautiful brown gaze. "I  love you, too."

His face filled with a dazed kind of shock and joy. Then he whispered,  "Tinker Bell," before catching me by the back of the neck and hauling me  against him.

Our mouths collided. I inhaled him as his lips crashed against mine. But  even that wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. My fingers fumbled to grasp  him, digging into the flesh at the back of his neck and over his  shoulders, afraid to slow down because I needed to feel every inch of  him before I lost my chance.

He was just as desperate, pulling me close, right up onto his lap. I  straddled him and slid forward until I could feel his erection through  his jeans as it ground against my core.

I'd never felt this carnal and delicious, as if my entire body had just  become a vessel for pure pleasure. Or maybe that was Pick's feeling  channeling into me, because I'd also never felt this connected to  another human being before. He was me, and I was him, and we were just  this beautiful twisted mass of all our hopes and dreams coming together  and exploding into a dizzying array of euphoria.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming," he broke away from my mouth to gasp,  right before kissing his way down my throat and into the collar of my  shirt.

"Stop reading my mind," I said and then bit his earlobe. "This feel like a dream to you?"

He groaned and threw his head back, "Fuck, yes. My favorite kind of dream."

I chuckled and decided to do to his neck what he'd done to mine. I  licked my way over the tattoo of a tree root and then grew curious about  the ink on his heart. Plus I wanted him shirtless.

"This is in my way."

"Then by all means." Pick was quick to grab the cloth at the back of his shirt and yank it over his head.

My vision went a little bit fuzzy at all that fine, tanned, toned naked  flesh before me. I wanted all of it at once. Greedy, my fingers reached  and immediately skimmed over the smooth, hard planes of his perfect  canvas. And that nipple ring . . . ooh. I was going to have some fun  with that. As Pick caught the hem of my shirt and started tugging it up,  I finally focused on his one chest tattoo.

And that's pretty much when everything went to hell.

"What the . . . ?"

I pulled back so fast I started to tumble off his lap.

"Tink?" Pick caught me, but I batted his hand away as I scurried to the  other end of the couch, unable to stop gaping in horror at the words  inscribed on his chest.

"What's wrong, baby?"

He started to crawl toward me, his concern thick and wild. But I held up a hand to ward him off.

"You . . . your chest . . . names."

His eyes flared. "Oh, shit. I forgot." Slapping his hand over the mark,  he closed his eyes and shook his head, cursing under his breath as he  bowed his face.

"You forgot what?" I screeched. "That the name you call me is tattooed  to your chest? That my daughter's name is . . . Oh my God. What the fuck  is going on?"

His lashes parted. His eyes begged me to calm down even as he lifted his  hands in a placating gesture. "Promise me you won't freak out."

Oh, that ship had sailed, buddy. "But you . . . you . . . Oh. My. God.  That's not fresh ink, Pick. That's . . . This tattoo is old. It's like  years old."

His brown eyes filled with worry as his gaze darted around my face. "Yeah."

"How the hell can you have my daughter's name tattooed to your heart for  years when she's only a few months old? And Julian . . . and oh my God.  Tinker Bell? There's another Tinker Bell in your life? All three names  listed together like that is a mighty big coincidence. That cannot be a  coincidence. The only name not freaking me out right now is Chloe, but I  still hate her because she was obviously important to you."

"No, don't . . . I will tell you everything. I swear, Eva. But it's a . .  . " He shook his head and blew out a breath. "It's a pretty crazy  story, so please try to listen until the end. Okay?"

I folded my arms over my chest, and I'm sure he could tell just how  upset I was. I'd pinched my mouth with displeasure and put up all kinds  of walls to block him because I knew, I just knew, whatever he had to  say was going to hurt. He had that panicked, apologetic look on his face  as if he knew he'd fucked up big time. No bastard looked that way  unless they knew they were about to majorly upset a woman's life.         

     



 

When he just kept watching me, looking frightened, I rolled my eyes. "Okay." I waved my hand for him to start talking already.

"All right." He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes before  saying, "Ten years ago, on November twentieth, Tristy tried to kill  herself."

I shivered at the mention of my birthday, remembering how he had the  date set as his cell phone's passcode, which only confused me more. Why  the hell would a suicide attempt be such a noteworthy date? But I was a  good girl and let him keep talking about how he visited the witch who'd  upset Tristy, hoping to get revenge, and how he got stuck in some ankle  trap she'd set up in her yard. He even hiked up his pant leg to show me  the scars around the base of his foot. Then he started talking about  glimpses, wedding dances, and immaculate backyards. I just stared at  him, unable to-yeah, I was too dazed to say much of anything.

But in no way could I envision him as the freaky, weird kind of guy into witchcraft.

When he was done talking, he blew out another breath and said, "Well?"

I shook my head, stunned. "So, you had this glimpse thing when you were  fourteen where saw me? You saw us get married and have three children  together named Julian, Skylar, and Chloe?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Well, basically. I mean, I thought they were my  biological kids. They called me dad, and I . . . I felt like their  father. I don't know how to describe it, exactly. It was just so real,  like I was really living it, feeling it, tasting it. You smelled like  lilacs, even then."

I lifted my hands to stop him because this was getting overwhelming. "Okay, just . . . slow down."

I think he was afraid to slow down, though, afraid I'd call him insane  and leave his crazy ass. He kept talking. "Everything, I mean  everything, has matched up so far. I was so pissed at Tristy for naming  her kid Julian. But he's turning into my son, isn't he? And Skylar? How  the hell could I predict you would name her that? Or that you'd be  wearing Tinker Bell on your shirt the first night I met you? And that  damn pink pig."

He motioned toward the stuffed animal I had sitting in the swing because  we rarely used the swing anymore. "She was holding it in my vision, and  then I saw it sitting in the hospital gift shop window the night she  was born. That's not just a coincidence."

I covered my mouth with my hands as tears filled my eyes. "And you knew she'd have dark hair and a cowlick."

He nodded. "And in my vision, we dance to 'Baby Love' at our wedding  reception, which just so happened to be the first song you played on the  jukebox that night."

I couldn't listen to anymore. I popped to my feet and lit out of the living room as quick as I could.





Chapter 22


PICK


I was almost too scared to go check, but I walked down the hall toward  our bedroom, anyway. I just knew she'd be in there, packing all her  things, scooping up Skylar and preparing to leave me.

When I reached the doorway, though, all she was doing was standing at  the crib and looking down at the babies sleeping together. Sensing me,  she said, without turning around, "You just had to wait until I fell in  love with him before you told me, didn't you?"