Dylan’s Redemption(93)

She leaned her head into his as his lips brushed her ear and hair. “I’m sorry too. I don’t want to live in the past anymore. I don’t want to live in what might have been, but focus on now. We’ve managed to find our way back to each other. We can share Hope this way,” she said and indicated the book. “We can’t get back what we’ve lost, but I hope we can keep a piece of her alive between us. Besides, neither of us would be who we are now. You wouldn’t have Will.”

Choked up, he kissed her temple and hugged her close.

The photos showed Jessie in labor at the hospital. Sweat glistening in her hair, making it stringy, her eyes squinted in pain, but she still had a soft smile on her face.

“This one is when labor was really bad. I couldn’t even open my eyes because the pain overwhelmed me. See Greg’s face. I’m squeezing his hand so tight I drew blood with my nails.”

“Didn’t you have any drugs?”

“Nope. By the time I said uncle, they said it was too late. She was coming and nothing was going to slow her down.”

“Damn, honey. You’re one tough lady.”

“Look at the pictures, I was one scared girl. I was about to bring a baby into the world and I had no idea how to take care of her. I’d read a dozen books and made all her furniture. I had all the things I’d need to take care of her, but the actual how-to of it eluded me. Then, they put her in my arms and I looked at her and felt full, complete. I figured no matter what came my way, I could handle it because she was counting on me. When they told me she was sick, that mother lion thing kicked in and all I wanted to do was protect her. It was hard to sit back and watch the doctors take care of her. I felt helpless. I never want to see someone I love in that kind of situation again with me standing by helpless to do anything.” Chills ran up her spine.

Dylan pulled her closer and tapped a finger on one of the pictures of his daughter having a bath. “I remember the first bath they gave Will. He screamed just like that.”

“She wasn’t excited about it either. Greg went with her to the nursery before they had to take her to the NICU. I made him promise to stay with her.”

“So, Greg got to play dad.”

“No. Greg wasn’t trying to be Hope’s dad. He was being my friend. I was scared and afraid to let them take her away from me.”

“I’m jealous he and his father got to be there. They got to hold her.” He stared at the pictures of Greg and his father holding Hope. They both beamed with pride, his girl in their arms. Two big, strong men holding his little girl like she was their greatest joy. It hurt. He let it sink in and hoped he never forgot how much his mother hurt him. He’d never let her do something like this to him again.

They flipped through the rest of the pictures, him making comments, her telling stories. The final photo broke his heart. Greg snapped the picture right after Hope died. Jessie sat in a rocking chair in the NICU with Hope lying on her chest. Jessie’s eyes were red and swollen. Tears filled her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Her nose ran and none of it mattered. Her daughter was dead. Jessie’s hand rested on Hope’s back. She stared down at Hope’s pretty face, weeping for the loss of her daughter.

Jessie traced a finger over the image of her daughter lying in her arms. Hope was a beautiful baby. Dylan’s chin rested heavily on her shoulder. He sighed and gazed down at their baby. His hand made a leisurely pass up and down her thigh. He hadn’t stopped touching her as they sat together in front of the fire bringing their past into their present. A sense of peace settled over her like she’d never felt, especially when she thought of Hope. Sharing her with Dylan healed something long broken inside of her.

She carefully packed Hope’s things back into the chest. Dylan’s smoldering eyes never left her body. He wanted her, but allowed her the time he thought she needed to settle into the intimacy blooming between them. She didn’t need time. She needed him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. He squeezed her to him in a hug that made her feel like she’d either pop or meld right into him. Warm and strong and all hers. The man she loved, the father of her child. In that moment, she realized just how much she’d missed having him in her life and how lucky she was to have him back.

“I never want to let you go.”

“Don’t.”

He pulled her down to the plush rug beside him. His mouth found hers, and he never stopped kissing her. He pulled her T-shirt up and over her head and trailed kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. He traced the ridge of her bra and over the swell of her breast with his tongue. He planted soft, wet kisses on her breast as he undid her bra and slid it down her arms and away. Her fingers dove through his hair and drew him down to her breast. When he took her straining nipple into his mouth, she arched in to him and held him to her as a soft moan escaped her throat.