It’s Always Us (Abandoned Brothers #3)

Chapter 36

LEX

I squat, trying to get low enough to see how bad the undercarriage is as the soft country music plays on my phone. There’s rust, but the floor panels don’t look as bad as I expected.

I hoist myself up, surveying the classic truck, still unable to believe Mark bought this. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would have picked, and somehow he knew.

The driver’s side door whines with age as I open it, and I see the potential. My hands itch to get to work. The heavy stuff is where I need to start, but it’ll have to wait until the babies are born. It doesn’t mean I can’t plan, though.

This past month and a half with Mark has been amazing. It’s been six months since Vegas, and I’m finally getting to know the man I married again.

Mark relies on consistency. He always has. When things are unstable, he’s not giving away a single part of his anxiety and fear. It’s too risky and scary, so he keeps it all locked up tight. I see all of that clearly now.

I ache for him. I’m filled with sorrow for the part I played in making him feel like he has to guard himself.

I’ve seen it while he waits to hear from teams. He’s good at pretending to be patient and believing the right team will come through, but underneath, the idea of not being wanted or sought after is eating him alive. The thought that the very thing that has kept him going might be over, and it not being his choice, is wreaking havoc on his need to feel secure .

Mark needs security—something he’s never had. I’m understanding that now. I need him to feel safe with me and know I’m not going anywhere ever again, but getting him to trust me enough to truly believe it will take time.

I hurt him more than I may ever know, but I’ll wait, give it time, and keep showing him until he has no choice but to believe.

The door to the garage swings open, and Mark steps into the garage, rubbing his eyes. His hair is swept across his forehead, and his joggers hang low on his waist. Oh, man. Sleepy, Mark, uninhibited by the protective layers of carefree bubble wrap he surrounds himself with, is almost too much. This will never get old.

He squints his dark eyes at me, trying to avoid the bright light. “What are you doing? It’s one a.m.”

“I can’t sleep. I was laying there, staring at the ceiling, so I came out here to figure out what parts I’ll need.”

He moves into the light, more awake now. “I don’t like waking up and you not being there.” He says it with a bit of force, and it only confirms the scars run as deep as I’m gathering.

“I’m sorry.” I smile, liking his groggy irritation. “She’s got potential. I’ll eventually need Slade out here for a weekend to help me pull the engine.”

“Slade, huh?” he grunts.

I glance at him, unable to hide my grin at his jealous tone. “Yeah, he’s big and strong and will be able to help me strip it.”

“Big and strong, my ass,” he grumbles.

I laugh. “You know you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

He stands straighter, his hands on his hips and fully alive. “Baby, he had eight years to make a move, or he did and didn’t work. Either way, you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. I’m not jealous.”

I eye him, knowing he’s full of crap. He’s a little jealous, but he’s one hundred percent right. I’ve always been his.

I peek in the back seat. “I’ll need to attach safety anchors to the body for the baby seats, but there will be plenty of room.” One side of his mouth tips up, and I have to look away. “I need a few more minutes. Hang out with me, and then we’ll go back to bed.”

He moves to me, sliding his arms around my middle, and pulls me against him .

“I told you if I hang out with you in the garage, especially wearing my T-shirt, you won’t get much work done.” He pushes my hair away from my neck, his mouth running over it.

“You’re trouble.” I tip my head to the side to give him better access.

“I never pretended not to be.”

I turn in his arms to face him and find his lips. His hands slide into my hair as mine glide over the muscles in his back. It only takes a second, and he’s pulling me toward the door, and who am I to fight him?

“It’s time for bed,” he mumbles against my mouth, and I have no doubt if I weren’t pregnant, I’d be over his shoulder right now.

The music on my phone suddenly breaks into ringing, halting our steps. Mark pauses but doesn’t release me.

His lips brush against mine. “It’s probably a robot.”

It stops ringing, and I fall against him as his hands pull at the hem of my shirt. It doesn’t get past my bump before my phone starts ringing again.

Mark groans, loosening his grip as I let my head fall to his shoulder.

“I should check it.” I tug my shirt down and grab my phone from the stool, seeing that it’s Grandpa. My stomach hits the concrete floor.

“Grandpa. Everything ok?”

Mark moves to stand next to me, his comforting hand on my shoulder, while all I can do is listen as my dream come true crashes into reality.

“Ok,” I say because there’s nothing else. “I’ll see you soon.”

I hang up, holding my phone and unable to look at the face I’d walk through fire to never ever hurt again.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Is Cal, ok?” His voice is so soft and tender that it only plunges the sword of truth deeper with a twist.

I pinch my eyes closed, wanting this to all go away. I want to ignore it and let it be someone else’s sacrifice this time and prevent Mark from ever having to relive the nightmares he escaped from.

“Lex . . . ”

I hear my name, but if I move, if I speak, everything I’ve finally let myself believe I could have will disappear.

“Baby . . . ” Mark’s hands grip my elbows. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

I force out a breath, needing the tears and utter terror about what’s coming to stay at bay. What is it they say? The truth always catches up with you. Or is it the past? Either way, it just snagged my ass, and the only thing I can do is hope that he’ll see that I did it for him.

I swallow the tidal wave of dread and fear for what’s to come. “I have to go . . . back.” I could have said home, but Mark is my home now. At least, I hope he’ll still be.

“What happened?”

I move, suddenly needing to get out of the garage—this place where I see everything we’re becoming. I move quickly, unwilling to let him trap me there.

Inside, I go straight to our bedroom as he calls my name.

“Lex, stop.”

I keep going, flipping on the light.

He finally catches my arm, stalling my attempt to flee. “Lex, you need to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Knowing I can’t protect him from this any longer, I force my eyes to his. The severe concern I find there rips my chest wide open.

I inhale as the weight of crushed dreams fills my lungs. “I have to go back. There’s . . . ” I sink down onto the edge of the bed, hoping the padding will somehow soften the blow. “I have to tell you something.” I wrap my arms around myself, preparing for the aftershock.

“Ok.” His brow scrunches tight, and his stance is strong and wide. His defenses are in place. I fucking hate it. All of it.

I don’t even know where to start or what to say, so I jump in, needing him to hear me and understand. “Please just . . . listen to me.”

My pathetic voice sounds weak as I watch his muscles contract.

“Ok.” His tense tone makes it already feel like a lie.

I shove out a quick, short breath, my heart beating too fast. I slide my sweaty hands under my thighs to prevent them from shaking. “Remember that day after graduation when we had the party at the shop for you and Shane and Sean, and the newspaper showed up to feature the three of you? Three guys from the system headed off to major universities.”

“Yeah.” His stance softens, but only slightly.

“Pictures of you made circles around the state for weeks. People couldn’t stop talking about it as you left for camp that summer.”

I kissed him goodbye, promising I’d be there. I wasn’t. It’s a fresh, direct punch to the diaphragm every time I let myself remember .

I swallow the painful lump in my throat. He deserves the truth, free of my heartache and suffering.

“Two weeks after you left, I was at the garage working.” I peek at him, praying he’ll listen. “A woman walked in with a baby. She was looking for you.”

The crease between his eyes deepens, like he’s trying to recall something or make sense of my words.

“Lex, I don’t know—”

“It was your mom.”

He physically pulls back. “My mom?”

I nod. “She saw your picture in the paper and was looking for you and for . . . help.”

I wanted to kick her out and tell her every single thing I thought about her. Then two tiny brown eyes, much smaller versions of the ones staring at me now, peeked at me from the hip of a woman who was strung out and reeked of alcohol.

“She was a mess, slurring her words, and had the shakes.” It was the first time I’d ever seen someone like that, and I could have vomited all over the floor thinking of Mark living with that for years.

“I told her to leave and that I had no idea how to get in touch with you. She started to cause a scene and begged me to help her find you. When I didn’t budge, the baby began to cry. She was jostling her around, calling me names, and telling me I was keeping her from trying to do the right thing.”

Mark steps away from me, his eyes dropping to the floor. “I don’t understand.” He shakes his head, his voice rough.

“She said she was trying to get clean, wanted money, and needed someone to take Bree.” At her name, his head pops up. “Your . . . sister,” I say softly. “She stormed out, calling me a liar, and said she’d find you.” Despite my protest, my eyes fill with tears. “I ran after her and told her I’d help her as long as she’d leave you alone.”

His eyes flick between mine so fast I can’t keep up. “You.” The word comes out with force. I nod. “What? You helped her?” His tone is filled with nothing but betrayal.

Stab. Stab. Stab.

My shaky hand pushes my hair behind my ear. “She left her with me. Just handed her over and walked away. Grandpa and I worked with a social worker. I made sure your mom got into a treatment program and . . . ” I don’t finish when I see rage flood his dark eyes.

“Why the hell are you telling me this now?”

A tear slips down my cheek. He’s angry, but there are wounds underneath that I’ve sliced wide open.

“Eventually, she got clean and regained custody of Bree. I’ve been making sure that there weren’t any slips. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to Bree like . . . ”

What happened to you. My gut squeezes so tight bile creeps up my throat, knowing what Mark went through as a child.

I don’t say it, but I can see he knows. His jaw is set, his hands fisted, but he needs the rest.

“I told your mom about us getting married and the babies. I told her that I was going to tell you. She . . . has a lot of regrets.”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare defend her,” he spits.

“I’m not. I reminded her that she needed to keep going . . . to stay clean . . . for Bree.” I drop my head. “She’s been arrested.”

I don’t want to say the rest, but protecting him went out the window. “She was picked up and is being charged with manufacturing and delivery, and . . . ” The last part is going to shove a hot poker into every freshly opened wound. “Child endangerment.”

I give him a minute, watching him struggle with it all. “Bree is sitting in a facility right now. I don’t know the details, but I have to get back to speak with the social worker. Grandpa tried, but . . . ”

I don’t continue. There’s no point. I can tell he’s done listening. His eyes are trained on the floor. He won’t even look at me.

“So, you just decided to keep your mouth shut about this? This whole time. You never once thought you should tell me.”

“Yes, I was going to, but . . . ” What can I say? Nothing. I tried to tell him, but we got caught up and . . . It’s all one fat excuse when nothing will make this better for him.

He shoves a hand through his hair, gripping it tight. “But what? How about, hey Mark, I’ve been hanging out with your shitbag mother, and oh, by the way, you have a sister? That would’ve been a good place to start!”

I have no defense.

“I want to know why you didn’t tell me. ”

I need a second to think about it. I had a million opportunities over these past months, and I didn’t take any of them.

“You can’t be the woman of few words right now, Lex. I want to know.”

A sheen of sweat covers my body. I pull my hair back, twist it around my sweat-soaked hand, and let it fall again. “I know. Just give me a minute to find the right ones.”

He waits. His hard eyes stare into me while I think, process, and hunt for the truth. My fingers twist my earring. I don’t have to search very hard, and there it is.

I suck in a breath for courage, hoping it will slow my racing heart. “I tried a couple of times, but . . . ” I drag my eyes up to his, needing to see him. “I know what she did to you. How much she hurt you, maybe even more than your dad.” It’s possible the lump in my throat might burst as I think about the stories he shared with me, and I know they weren’t even the worst of them. “The absolute last thing I’ve ever wanted to do was hurt you, and I know this hurts like hell.”

He scoffs. “Hurt. Fuck! That doesn’t even begin to—”

I stand. I can’t be a coward. His shoulders are rigid, and his eyes are wild with anger and pain. All I want is to make it better, and nothing I say will.

I let the rest of it go. My voice is only a whisper. “How could I? How could I tell you about her and Bree . . . when she didn’t even try for you.” I ached to touch him, hold him, and make him see. “Mark, you deserved for her to fight . . . for you. To put you first, like she did Bree.”

He scoffs. “Just like you put me first and disappeared.”

I feel the smack all the way from my face to my toes, and I can’t even say I don’t deserve it. I step away from him, sliding a hand under my growing belly to support it, and move toward the door.

He spins, watching me. “Where the hell are you going?” I don’t stop, but in two seconds, he’s standing in front of me. “Where are you going?”

My skin is hot and sticky, and I’m one second from melting down as I watch my dreams swirl in the toilet. My stomach lurches again, but I force it down.

I will myself to stay strong. “I’m going to give you some space.”

“Seriously, is that how this will always be? You just leave every time things get hard.” I pull back at his words. That’s not what I’m doing. Am I? “I’m pissed. No, I’m so angry I can’t see straight, but I don’t want space. I want you to stay here and help me understand. I’ve never left, Lex.”

Another punch right between our twins.

“I’ve never left and never will, but I need to know that you won’t either.”

It’s the truth. His truth. He’s terrified I’ll leave again. That I won’t show up or be here. That I won’t fight for him. I hate myself for letting him ever doubt my love.

I pull myself up, letting the total and complete truth go. Nothing reserved. “Even if your mom hadn’t shown up. Even if I’d made a different choice that day, the only thing I would have done was hold you back and slow you down. Mark, you lived through hell and somehow walked out alive. There wasn’t a chance I was going to be that person to you.”

I suck in air. “You made it to Notre Dame! Walked on as the starting quarterback.” Everything in me rises to the surface. All eight years worth. “I was only ever going to be in that shop, covered in filth. Just a girl who can’t fucking read.” I shrug as one tear rolls out. “I could’ve never kept up with you. I wanted you to soar, not be the weight that tied you down.”

The burn in my throat is so strong I’m not sure it won’t close up. I let the tears stream down my cheeks, no longer caring to hide them.

“When she showed up at the shop with a baby, asking for help, that was it. I gave up every hope of ever seeing you again. I knew if I told you, if I came to you and told you that sweet baby girl existed, you would’ve sacrificed everything for a person who never deserved you in the first place.” My voice breaks. “She never deserved you.”

I wipe my nose on my wrist. “So, I took Bree and cared for her until Linda could again. I didn’t know if she’d ever come back, if rehab would work, or if she’d stick it out, and if she did, that she’d stay sober. I’ve made sure Bree was healthy and safe because that’s exactly what you would’ve done.”

I match his stance, more convinced of that now than ever. “Right or wrong, I did it for you. Being anywhere near Linda would’ve pulled you so far into the dark. I would’ve rather spent my life without you than let that happen. ”

He scoffs. “So, you left me, made me wonder if it was all a joke, if I made it all up, everything we had . . . to save me?” His voice is softer now, but the pain has never been more apparent.

“Maybe you can’t see. Maybe I was dead wrong in what I did. I couldn’t even breathe for months after you left. But I kept going, and I’d do it all over again if it meant saving you from ever returning to any part of the life you’d been pulled from.” I move one step closer. So close, but I don’t touch him. “I love you so much. I did then, and I love you even more now. I don’t care what I have to do. I will never let her or any part of that life touch you ever again.”

There was no one there to protect him when he was just a little boy. Even at eighteen, I’d sacrificed it all to make sure that never happened, and I do it again.

I take a step away. “Now, I have to go back and make sure nothing happens to that little girl.”

He stands tall again. “I’m going with you.”

I shake my head, wiping my face clean and knowing it’s time to do things right, whether that’s together or apart. “No. No, you’re not.”

“Like hell—”

I cut him off and risk it, putting both of my hands on his face so I know he hears me. “You’re staying here. You’re going to stay here and calm down and have that meeting with the Kings. Then you’re going to Houston. You are going to sign with a team and play football. All of this . . . it wasn’t for nothing. You made it out, and you have turned into the most incredible man. I’m . . . ” I can’t breathe, and my voice breaks with everything. “I’m so proud to be your wife.”

Tears spill over my cheeks again as he blinks, holding his own back. “I have to talk to the social worker, find out what’s happening with Linda, and hopefully get Bree. Then, you and I will figure this out.”

“So that’s just it. You’re leaving, and we’re what?”

“You and I are us, always, but right now, there’s a terrified little girl who needs us to put her first. I don’t know what she’s been through.” My stomach rolls with the possibilities. I step closer, my body pressing against his and needing him to know I’m still here. “This can’t pull you under. I can’t lose you again,” I whisper .

His forehead falls to mine. We stand in silence for a few long seconds before he surrenders and pulls away. I give him a minute and when he doesn’t say anything I find my phone to book my ticket.