Captured(87)

I just laugh. “I was yours already, silly. I don’t know how this happened any more than you do, Derek. But I’m grateful, too.” I hang on to his neck and lift myself up for a kiss. “And I’ll never change my mind.”

“Swear?”

I push him; we roll so I’m on top. “Derek. To me, that’s what getting married is: a promise that I’ll never change my mind.”

“Oh.”

I kiss him then. Deep, long, and hard.

But again, before I can really get lost in it, he pulls away. “There’s one other thing, Ree.”

“What?” I breathe, kissing his jaw, aching for him, hungry for him.

“Tommy…I want to adopt him.” He drops this bomb in a calm voice, as if it’s not going to rock my world. “But I want him to—to keep Tom’s name. I want you to take mine, and keep…keep the Barrett. Hyphenate. So Tommy has…so Tommy knows exactly where he came from.”

“God, Derek.” I’m bawling suddenly. Even without pregnancy hormones making everything go haywire, this would have me in pieces. But both? I’m a wreck, instantly. “You mean—you mean it?”

“I love that boy, Ree.” He swallows hard. “And I loved his dad like a brother. I want Tommy to know, when he’s old enough, who his father was. Where he came from. I want him to know that Tom was one of the best men I’ve ever known.”

That makes me cry even harder. I can’t stop. The proposal, and then this? I can’t breathe.

Derek lets me cry, holding me tight.

When I get hold of myself, I’m still full of so many emotions I don’t know what to do with them all. I’m overflowing. Boiling over. The only thing I know how to do is crush my mouth to Derek’s and devour his breath, taking his strength into me. He holds me, and we kiss, and kiss, and kiss. And then his hands wander, and I moan into his mouth to encourage him.

We roll and paw at each other, peel clothes off, try to keep our lips connected while stripping each other. I reach for him, and when I’ve got him naked, he is hot and hard, and I’m wet and aching, and this is so perfect, him beneath me, his body a pillow, a rock, a shelter. I taste his tongue and impale myself on him, sinking down onto him. I fill myself with him.

I moan his name and begin to move.

I take everything I need from him, gasp his name and take and take. And between every breath, he says my name, and takes all I have. I take, he takes. It works, because I’m giving, and he’s giving, and we’re both complete.





CHAPTER 23





REAGAN





I’m wearing a white wedding dress, holding a bouquet of pink roses, white lilies, and lavender. We’re not in a church, though. We’re in the Brenham hospital. I’m walking down the aisle, which, in this case, is the hallway of the hospital leading up to Hank’s room. Ida is pushing his wheelchair, and I’ve got my hand on his arm.

Hank had a stroke last week. He was doing okay for a while, but then he got a cold, the cold led to pneumonia, and then a stroke. Now the right side of his face is pulled down, his lip drooping. But his left hand, clutching mine, is as strong as ever. He’s giving me away. The nurses and doctors are all lining the hall, piled into doorways, watching. They all love Hank here, because how can you not? Hank is amazing. Ida is blinking hard, fighting tears, like I am. Tears at Hank’s deteriorating condition, tears for me, tears about me getting married.

The wedding march is coming from an iPhone, played over a mobile speaker. Rania follows me, holding the train of my dress. Tommy? Ohhh, Tommy. So damn cute in his tux, walking in front of me beside Maida Lee. Maida scatters flower petals, and Tommy holds a pillow with the rings. He practiced for days at home, walking from the barn to the house and back with the pillow from his bed and a toy of some kind.

We move through the doorway into the room. The bed got moved flat against the wall for the ceremony, and someone found a lectern or a podium from somewhere. The hospital chaplain stands behind it, flipping through the pages of his Bible. Derek stands to the left of the podium, dressed in his best blues. The right leg of his uniform slacks is pinned up, showing the athletic prosthetic. He’s so gorgeous in his uniform it’s hard to look at him, but impossible to look away. Hunter is beside him, in his blues.

I stop in front of Derek, and Ida turns Hank’s chair so he can see us both, so he can hold my hand. He won’t let go. So I stand facing Derek, my right hand in Derek’s, my left clutched in both of Hank’s.

I’m half-listening to the chaplain say the words—dearly beloved, we’re gathered here—as I alternate my gaze from Derek to Hank and back again. We were going to wait to get married until the farm sale was finalized, but then Hank’s condition started worsening to the point that he couldn’t leave the hospital. A wedding without Hank was unthinkable, so we scrambled. I found a dress, Hunter and Rania and the girls drove down, making it in one marathon drive. They helped us find tuxes, flowers. It had to be a real wedding, even if it was in a hospital—that was Derek’s only request. So here we are, me in my backless, strapless dress gown with a short train. Ida, ever skillful, managed to alter the dress to accommodate my growing belly.

We come to the vows.

Derek looks me in the eyes. “I stayed up all night for days, trying to figure out how to write these vows. I must’ve scrapped a dozen attempts. None of it was right. So I’m going for simple. Just say what’s in my heart, right here, right now. And really, it is pretty simple. I love you. I’ll fight for you. For us. I’ll never give up, and I’ll love you more every day. I’ll always be faithful. I’ll always be there for you, for Tommy, and for whoever this” —he touches my belly— “little person in here turns out to be. That’s my vow, Reagan: to love you forever, no matter what, through everything and anything.”