Cherished: The Mountain Man's Babies(28)

"And where do we go once we get through the guards?" Jonah asks, writing this all down on a piece of paper.

I grin, loving his optimism.

Grace explains where Cherish sleeps, tells us she's in a fucking pantry, sleeping on a cot. Imagining my woman like that tears me up again, but I don't have time to get angry about that now. I'll get my vengeance later.

Once Jonah and I understand the basic layout of the compound, I thank Grace for all she has done for us.

I lean over and kiss my sons, kiss my daughter. Running my hand over my beard, I'm all torn up inside. I hate that I must leave this mountain, the place my children call home.

The woods that made a father out of me.

But I have to.

Cherish needs us and we need her.

"Thank you, Grace," I say again, as I pull open the door to go. "Thank you for coming here. For finding me. I owe you everything."

She shakes her head, her eyes filled with tears. "Go get her, and bring her home."

I swallow hard, blinking back tears like a baby—forget that—I let the tears fall like a fucking man.

Because tears don't make me weak. Tears prove I've got something to fight for.

Someone to live for.

And it's time I brought her home for good.





Chapter Nineteen





My stomach is in knots. And it isn't because of the baby—thank goodness. It is because Grace has been gone twenty-four hours, and I don't know if she made it out alive.

Sitting up on my cot, I exhale, trying to remain calm.

I go to the bathroom, flicking on the light, I look at my face in the mirror, trying to remember who I am. It's been so long since I have seen my babies, my James. I press a washcloth to my face, trying to stop myself from hyperventilating at the thought of something happening to them.

Something happening to Grace.

If she was stopped... then my hopes of escape are narrow.

I can't think this way.

I run my hand over my blossoming belly, resting my forehead against the mirror, wishing I could float away to a world where there was sunshine and smiles and the promise of a bright tomorrow. Instead, I'm here, peeling potatoes and washing laundry and scrubbing floors. I'm here, attending services where I am lectured for hours on how to be holy.

I never used to know what to believe in. It took so long for me to believe in myself—my power to choose my own destiny.

But I waited too long before... and I fear I waited too long again.

I should have been the one to try and escape—I shouldn't have let Grace go for me.

When I press on my hands on my belly, I feel a kick.

A tear falls down my cheek. This baby needs its father.

I need my James.

I feel myself falling into the dark place I've spent so much of my life. I don't know if the right word is depressed, or prone to sadness—but I do know when things are hard it's hard to keep my chin up... it's hard to be bright when the world feels gray.

For so long I believed James would always be my sunshine.

But now he might just be a memory.

Closing my eyes, I imagine the life for myself that I've dreamed of.

If Grace was successful, James could be coming for me any moment.

I can't let myself spiral into a place of weakness again.

Not now.

I open the bathroom door, and head to my cot, slipping my dress over my nightgown, tying on my apron, and rebraiding my hair. I put on socks and shoes. There is no one else here, no one watching me.

When James comes—because I know he will—I will be ready.

Breathing deeply, I try to quiet the fear bubbling inside of me. And just when I think maybe I can get through this, I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen.

I press my hand to my stomach again, feeling the beginnings of contractions. The familiar pain of labor.

But this is much too soon.

I fall to my knees, eyes closed, head to the ceiling. Please let my baby be okay.

I start to pray for a miracle, but instead, I get a savior.

I'm on my knees, biting back the ache.

I've almost lost all hope, not believing he would find me.

But he is here.

"Cherish?" James whispers from inside the kitchen. My James. Here.

I gasp and call out his name. My deepest wish, my only desire—he is here.

He pulls off a ski mask, a gun in his hand. He reaches for me, but before I can fall apart in his arms—another contraction rips through me.

"I need a doctor," I tell him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, worry in his eyes, his hands refusing to let go of me.

"I'm pregnant," I tell him. "But it's too soon."

He lifts me into his arms, looking like a man on a mission. I'd be terrified of getting caught, but right now I'm more terrified of what will happen to our child if we stay put.

As we leave the kitchen, not knowing what we’ll find—a SWAT team surrounds us.

Police lights blaring, officers with guns in the air.