Come to Me Softly (Closer to You #2)(93)
Author: A.L. Jackson

One that grew into the strongest love.

He stood across our tiny yard, facing out over the wall, waiting for the start.

I paused in the sheltered shadows of the patio, silent as I watched.

My spirit shimmered with pride when I thought of what he’d become.

When I recognized everything he’d overcome.

My eyes traced over my gorgeous man, his profile so defined, his stance so strong, all this coarse beauty that shielded the kindest heart. He wore a fitted black tee and jeans, and my stomach did a little flip-flop and my pulse responded with a patter. Heat rushed to my cheeks.

After everything we’d gone through, you’d think he wouldn’t still affect me this way.

But my need for him only seemed to grow.

From where he stood, his left side faced me. My attention trailed over the exposed skin of his arm. Years ago he covered it in blacks and grays that morphed into horrific faces. Those faces promised all his days were condemned to be served out in a tortured living hell.

Now a long-stemmed rose grew up between the faces, shedding light on the dark, a new birth when he’d once believed his punishment was death.

The bright stem twisted and turned through the statement of his self-loathing, growing higher and thicker before it blossomed into a vibrant red rose.

Life.

I always prayed he’d find it.

And he had.

The new does not blot out the old. Rather, it is an extension. A symbol of a life that ended much too early and the beginning of another that some would say began too soon.

Curling out from the rose were little spirals of vines. They wove into the most precious words.

Ella Rose.

Affection squeezed my heart.

She was curled up in a tiny ball, fast asleep on her daddy’s chest.

It was her favorite place.

I could hardly blame her.

Slowly he rocked her, one hand protecting her little head, his arms secure around her little body.

He was a good father.

A good husband.

Jared was a good man.

I’d always seen it.

Now he finally accepted it—that he was a part of the good, and that without him our lives would never be so full.

He was important.

Needed.

He brushed his lips across her head, and I edged forward across the lawn, drawn deeper into the darkness.

Drawn to my family.

From behind, I wound my arms around his waist and pressed my lips to the center of his back.

A rumble of pleasure vibrated through him. “There you are, Mrs. Holt,” he whispered low.

I felt the redness rush to my face. God, I loved when he called me that. And he did a lot. Apparently Jared liked the way it sounded, too.

“Where else would I be?” I asked as I flattened my palm to his taut stomach, the other latching onto a tiny foot as I peeked around Jared at our daughter.

Ella grunted, and her little head bobbed as she stirred.

I had become a mother six weeks ago. I thought I was prepared for the overpowering love I would feel. I’d really had no clue until the moment I held her in my arms, my precious black-haired baby girl with the deepest gray eyes. Those would be blue, I was sure, this perfect little mixture of her father and me.

Jared chuckled low, bouncing her softly as he shushed her. “You gonna wake up and watch the fireworks with Daddy and Momma, Ella?”

He dipped his chin, softly nudging our child. She squirmed and let out a high-pitched cry that sounded like a kitten’s yowl.

The force of my smile was all-encompassing, the rush of love that filled every crevice of my heart overwhelming. Moments like this, I felt staggered. Overcome. My voice filled with awe. “I love her . . . so much.”

“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” Jared whispered, falling into a slight sway as the two of us rocked our child together, this miracle that seemed so impossible, this tiny, perfect life.

I was so blessed to be able to stay home with her, so blessed to be able to draw. Just like Jared said I could. They were images like the ones I had kept hidden away in my sketch pads, although now people paid me to capture their treasured faces, their children, their spouses, their families. My mentor had gotten me started, so much sooner that I’d ever anticipated.

It made Jared proud, so extremely proud, and he told me every day.

But my proudest moment was when he sat with me while I drew a picture of a snapshot of him and his mother from when he was a small boy, clinging to her neck. The drawing was now displayed proudly on the wall above the mantel he had reconstructed, the mantel where the jewelry box he’d made for her had found its home.

I was so intensely proud of this man. He’d accomplished so much in such a short time. I hadn’t been shocked in the least when he’d come home from work two months ago, pacing, nervous, unsure of what direction to go when his boss had asked him to become his partner in a new venture designing and creating custom kitchens.

Christopher joined their business too as a partner, which was kind of funny, but completely expected, my crazy brother meshing with Jared, constantly bickering and never far from each other’s sides.

Jared was also slowly renewing his relationship with his father. Neil, Mary, and Courtney had come to Phoenix to meet Ella the week she was born, and Courtney had plans to spend a couple weeks with us during her summer vacation from high school. Rebuilding those bonds would take time, but Jared was willing to put everything into them.

“Do you think she’ll be afraid of the fireworks?” Jared asked as he turned his attention out beyond the boundaries of our yard.

“No . . . I think she’s going to love them.”

How could she not?

Soft laughter floated from his mouth, and he rocked her a little more. “Did you know one year ago tonight I kissed your mommy for the first time? She drove me right out of my mind that night. I had to have her.” His voice softened. “Thank God I took her.”

“You took me?” I teased, lifting our daughter from his arms. My entire body sighed in contentment, the feel of her, my heart so full I was sure it would burst.

Jared turned me around and wrapped us both from behind in his embrace.

It throbbed a little more, just a little fuller, just a little more. Always just a little more, because with Jared, I never got enough.

“Yep,” he said, almost proudly at my ear. “Give me about a half an hour, and I’ll be taking you again,” he whispered through his deep voice. Soft laughter escaped my mouth. Like it was difficult for this man to get me into bed.

One look from Jared? Call me seduced.

Jared pulled us closer, and I listened to him murmur sweet words to our daughter, filling her tiny ears with the sound of her daddy’s voice, with the beginning of our story.