Only for Us Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  COPYRIGHT

  ONLY FOR US

  ONLY SERIES: VOLUME THREE

  CRISTIN HARBER

  CHAPTER ONE

  Emma

  “Mommy!” There’s a clatter of noise that only a two-year-old can make coming from the back door.

  I’m frozen with ice-cold panic as Grayson rips on his pants. Two seconds ago, I was in a euphoric lull.

  “Emma,” he hisses at me. “Clothes.”

  Right. Shit. Shoot. Oh my effin’ God. Clothes. I grab my oversized T-shirt and pull it on. My heart is in my throat, trying to escape. Every bit of me wants to run out the door and give myself a chance to think. Just as Gray wasn’t supposed to find out the way he did, Cally is not supposed to learn about her dad this way. I hop into my flannel pajama bottoms, and my hands search for the drawstrings. But they’re on backward. Shit.

  Cherry’s voice calls out, “Emma. Hon, you awake? Where you at, babe?”

  “Breathe, Ems.” Grayson hovers over me. I can almost see his pulse pounding in his neck. There’s a nervous tension in the air that neither of us knows how to react to.

  Cally’s footsteps head in the opposite direction of the living room, away from us. “My bedwroom's back here. I wanna show you, Aunt Chwerry.”

  “I’m breathing,” I say to him breathlessly, confirming that I most certainly am not.

  His eyes are on the floor. Where’s his shirt? Oh, this is not going well.

  “Emma?” Cherry’s voice fades as she heads after Cally toward the bedrooms.

  “You should leave.” I bite my lip. “No, you shouldn’t.” My eyes sink shut, and I’m lost. I can’t kick him out the front door. I don’t want to kick him out the front door.

  “Seriously. Take a breath, Emma. It's not how we planned, but it’s going to be okay.”

  Not how we planned? We haven’t come up for air long enough to plan. I need to stall or redirect or—

  Cherry and Cally laugh loudly on the other side of the small house. My eyes shoot in their direction then back to Grayson. His face is calm, his eyes bright. A curious, almost excited smile plays on his full lips, and I try to understand the magnitude of what he might be feeling.

  Gray takes a step forward and cups my chin, letting his thumb softly stroke my cheek. “It’ll be okay.”

  I nod, listening to an excited Cally drag Cherry down the back hall.

  “It’ll be okay,” I repeat as if it’s a calming mantra that might save me.

  “You want me to head out?” His throat bobs. “I’m dying here. I need to stay. You get that?” His eyes glance over my shoulder. “You’re scared. I’m… freakin’ out. But I can’t leave.” He gulps again.

  God love him for giving me the option. How hard does it have to be for him? I shake my head and realize that my hands are trembling. I cross my arms and tuck them in tight. “No.”

  Cherry and Cally make their way closer. They giggle over a lost doll that has been found—the one I put in the center of all of Cally’s toys, lined up on her bed.

  I need to focus. Time feels as if it’s moving slowly, as though I’m swimming through sludge. I try to think. Okay. Grayson’s staying. “Hey, Cherry, hang on. Hang tight. Be in the kitchen in a sec—”

  “We were just—” Cherry falters at the mouth of the hallway and clings to the wall. Her face pales, and her mouth drops open as if she can’t understand what’s before her. “Um—whoa.”

  I cringe. Her eyeballs bulge, bouncing between a no-shirted Grayson and me guiltily smoothing my T-shirt.

  What am I supposed to say? You remember Grayson? Ahh—what the shiznittle do I say?

  “You’re… here.” Though I can tell she almost said “alive.”

  He nods. “I am.”

  “Gray’s back, Cherry.” Nervously, I twist my fingers in the hem of my ginormous shirt.

  “You cannot be serious.” Her hand juts to the wall as if she has to hold herself up.

  Not the reaction I would’ve dreamed up. But it’s not unexpected. “Cherry—”

  Cally is babbling behind her, my guess talking to her doll about hugs and sunshine. Then she bypasses my sister and runs into the room, a smiling blur of blondeness. “Mommy!”

  My heart’s in my throat, and I have no idea what to do. “Cally, honey, snugglebug, hi.”

  I sit down on the couch. So does Gray. Cally grips an overly loved doll tightly in her hand, and her eyes are curiously on Grayson as she slinks onto my lap. “Hi, mama.”

  “Hi, baby,” I nervously repeat.

  She shifts her weight, hugging me, then concentrates on her doll, apparently deciding that a shirtless Grayson doesn’t deserve more than a second glance. My eyes rocket to his awestruck green ones as I watch him see his daughter for the first time.

  A lump slowly works its way down his throat. Emotional restraint is visible in his corded neck, and his hard jaw flexes. He rolls his lips together as though he’s stifling his words, and his gaze is dancing, mesmerized by the pint-sized explosion who's hugging me and holding a doll.

  His reaction is… beautiful. I didn’t know a man that sexy, that hard, maybe even that dark and wounded could personify love. But there it is. And it’s amazing.

  My heart pitter-patters, and my eyes flood, brimming with a happiness that I will remember always.

  His gaze moves from studying her to locking onto me. “Oh… my… God,” he whispers.

  My chest hitches as my breaths stall. Warmth that I can’t explain fills my blood. I nod to Gray as Cally pushes back to interrupt my gaze.

  “Aunt Chwerry gave me p’cakes.”

  Other than her brief look, Cally hasn’t acknowledged Grayson. This isn’t how I wanted an introduction to go, if there ever even was one, but now that it’s happening, I try to breathe evenly and focus on her. “Yum, pancakes. You’re having a good time?”

  Her face brightens as though she’s ready to tell a secret. “We had hot chocwolate.”

  “We have plans to go to the park,” Cherry adds, staring at Grayson with unhidden shock. “But we needed a different doll.”

  Cally shakes her doll for us all to see then turns around to take in Grayson again. They’re nearly identical, with the golden hair and the emerald eyes and even the same perfect, pink smile.

  “Hi.” She shakes her doll at him.

  Grayson shifts on the couch as though he wants to inch forward but is unsure. “Hey, sweetheart.”

  She tilts her head. “Who’s dat?”

  I cough. Or choke. “He’s my friend, snugglebug.”

  Grayson’s smile falters for a brief second, but he rebounds and nods. Cally nods back, mimicking him with a huge smile.

  “My name’s Gray.”

  “My name is Cally Kingsley.” Her proud, drawn-out cadence warms my heart, and watching her introduce herself to her daddy is the most monumental moment of my life. I’m ready to bawl, and I’m certain Grayson’s choked up. His voice sounds tight, and there’s emotion straining in his jaw and neck, even when he smiles.

  But Cally hasn’t noticed a vibe from any of the adults. “Aunt Chwerry lemme have p’cakes for bekfast. Sooo good.”

  Gray leans forward and drops more to her height, propping his elbows on his knees. “That good, huh?”

  “Sywup, too. Lots of it.” Her grin reaches ear to ear.


  And, God, so does his grin. “Yeah?”

  Cherry grumbles playfully, softening for what she surely sees as an important thing playing out before our eyes. “It was a weak moment. She’s too cute. Can’t say no to her.”

  Cally jumps off my lap and lands on the couch between Grayson and me, keeping eyes on him. “Have you been to da pwark?”

  He shakes his head. “Not this park.”

  “Like pwaying outswide?” Her little brow furrows as though she’s sizing up his answers.

  “I love playing outside.” He rolls his bottom lip into his mouth. “Guess you come by it naturally.”

  She has no idea what that means, but she agrees. “You’re weally big.” Her little head goes up and down, assessing. “You could do the mun-key bars. But you have to wear a shirt.”

  Grayson lets out a huge belly laugh. I’m hot from head to toe, absolutely sure I’m going to fall over and die from embarrassment. Cherry presses her fingers over her mouth, trying to hide any reaction that’s not part of her confusion and concern.

  But Gray doesn’t miss a beat. “Bet I could handle the monkey bars, Miss Cally Kingsley.”

  “Bwing him?” She eyes me, urging me on like a little girl playing matchmaker. “And da swings, too.”

  “Maybe she’ll bring me one day.”

  “Today? Pwease.”

  He shakes his head. “Probably not today.”

  “Okay.” Cally jumps up, finished with her investigation and invitation. “Weddy for da pwark, Aunt Chwerry!” A second later, she’s off to the kitchen. I’ve childproofed everything in there except for her special drawer, which is filled with things like juice boxes and coloring books.

  Before Cherry can get a word out, I shake my head and cut her off. “Cherry. Chill.”

  Her long, cold stare ruins the moment. “Ryan know about this?”

  I assume that Grayson hasn’t informed my brother he is alive and in town. Because if he had, I would have heard about it; there would’ve been a fistfight in my front yard—the soldier versus the cop.

  “Prick.” Cherry’s eyes narrow at Grayson. “So, you’re alive. Got it. That just reminds me you’re a son of a bitch.”

  “Stop.” I’m losing all the warm fuzzies from moments before.

  “No way.” My sister the ice queen cocks her hip and rests her hand on it. “When I thought you died, I felt awful for them. I hurt for my baby sister and her daughter. Maybe even for you since you missed out on this—”

  “Maybe”—he pulls closer to me, an unsaid challenge to Cherry to back off—“that’s what I’m here to make up for.” His voice is deep and authoritative.

  The tension compounds. I hate conflict already, and this antagonism is so deep that I don’t even know how to describe it. “Please let it be. I need to go talk to Cally.”

  “She’ll be fine. We didn’t see anything other than Grayson’s not having his damn shirt on.”

  “I’m her mother. I’ll judge how she is.” God, I want to strangle Cherry right now. “You know what? You have no right to act like this.”

  “I have no right? I pull shifts so you can work and go to school. We all do. You sleep—what? Like, three hours a night? You are killing yourself, and he just waltzes in, and you spread—”

  “Don’t finish that.” Grayson stands, stepping in front of me, a protective growl coming from him. “You’ll regret it. There’s enough fucking regret standing in this room. We don't need any more of it.”

  I stand behind him, my palms flat on his back. “Gray…”

  Cherry’s eyes drop to the wound at his side then back up again. “You ruined her life.”

  My frustration multiplies, and I expect better from her than to pull that. “Nothing about my life is ruined. It has its hiccups, it certainly isn’t what I planned, but it’s mine, and I love it.”

  Her brow pinches. “Em—”

  “I get to say if my life’s been ruined,” I hiss. Then I look over my shoulder as Cally clangs and bangs a few feet away, singing about her water bottle and a milk box from her Cally-drawer. I don’t know how to ensure that permanent damage hasn’t been done, but I’m positive that the anger rolling in the room is bad for my girl. “Look—enough. None of this is a conversation for right now. Cally can stay home with me, and Grayson, you can go. You too, Cherry.”

  The singing comes closer as Cally wanders back into the room, all her attention on her hands as she tries unsuccessfully to tear into her milk box with her doll and a water bottle tucked under her arms. “My milk’s not listening.”

  “Snugglebug, why don’t you stay home with me. Cherry and Grayson were just leaving.” I take the box and pop the straw into it, handing it back after she has propped her doll on the couch with the water.

  Sudden tears spring in her eyes. “I wanna go to the pwark. Aunt Chwerry pwomised.”

  Shit, shoot, shit. I don’t know what to do right now.

  “Pwease.” Her little bottom lip pops out.

  I close my eyes and rub my temples for a minute. I hear Cherry take a step, and I sigh, turning toward her. We lock eyes. She’s sorry, I’m sorry—it’s just that this moment is unplanned.

  Cherry grins though I know it’s forced. “If you’d like, Emma, we can stick with the Cally-Cherry day of fun. It’s my fault we swung by. I forgot to pack her dolly. Lord knows I wasn’t going to survive the day without it.”

  “Pwease, Mommy.”

  I want to make sure Cally’s okay. We’ve never had this much time apart, and then she walks into a shirtless Grayson. Is she confused? Clueless? I don’t remember this chapter in any of the “how to survive teenage single motherhood” books I devoured. I’m sure scenarios like this were included, though not with all the drama. I just never thought I’d love anyone else—and I was right.

  Hesitantly, I eye Cherry and give Cally a hug. “Okay. Have fun, baby.”

  She squeals out of my arms and runs towards the back door. “C’mon, Aunt Chwerry!”

  “Coming, honey.” My sister turns but watches me. I’ve had more time than her to process Grayson. I can tell she’s struggling with knowing the right thing to say. “Emma… you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Better than okay. I’m on a high from watching Grayson fall in love with Cally.

  “You have to call Ryan. He’ll find out. He’s about as good with surprises as you are.”

  I cringe. “I will.”

  “I will first,” Grayson says.

  “Right,” Cherry shoots back, shaking her head. “Details later, Emma.” She casts a protective glance at me, shifting it to a challenging glare as she turns to Grayson. Seconds struggle by, but she relents. “Guess you two have a lot to catch up on.”

  “Aunt Chwerry!”

  “Coming, honey. For real this time.” She gives us one last hard look. “Bye.”

  My sister leaves us standing amid tension, conflict, and her judgement. She and Cally giggle in the kitchen as the back door opens.

  “Bye, Mommy,” Cally shouts then the door slaps shut.

  An overwhelming silence coats the room. So much just happened in the last fifteen minutes—just as so much has happened between Grayson and me over the last twenty-four hours. I take a deep breath and collapse on the couch. Grayson drops down next to me. One heavy arm wraps around me as the other hand takes my hand. There are so many thoughts running in my head that I’m not sure where one starts and another stops. What I do know is… I fell in love today. Twice. With the same man who has always had my heart.

  He squeezes my hand tight and clears his throat. “I’m… without words.”

  Know the feeling. Cherry honks twice as she pulls away. My heart is still in my throat, and I’m drifting down from my adrenaline high. “Cally’s amazing, right?”

  His perfect face and chiseled jaw tilt toward me, but his fierce green eyes remain on the path our daughter took on her way out. “Ems… she’s perfect.”

  I just witnessed a man meet his greatest weakness—and his truest
love—and embrace it without thought of complication or fear. He’s always been her father, but now I’m sure she’ll have a daddy.

  “Sweet little perfection,” he mumbles.

  I can’t take any more, and I bury my head into his neck. “What do we do after something like that happens?”

  “I don’t know. Sit here and think…”

  I nod into his strong hold. His soapy scent and abounding confidence make me calm. “That’s not how I thought a daddy-daughter introduction would go.”

  He leans into me as though I’m holding him up. “You’ve thought about it?”

  “Of course.” I’ve thought about our life as if he never left and was there when I delivered. I imagined that he was deployed and came back to our happy little family—as if he hadn’t abandoned us. We’d have little flags to wave and maybe paint a welcome-home poster.

  He presses his lips to my hair. “Might not be what either of us had planned, but that was one of the best moments… ever.”

  True. One for the record books.

  His cell phone rings, and I sigh. “You need to get that?”

  “Not mine. Oh—shit. Yeah. That’s me.” He reaches to his back pocket and digs out a phone, swiping the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”

  He listens, and I watch, curious about who is calling him on a Saturday morning when I didn’t think anyone knew he was back.

  Grayson pulls himself off the couch and paces. “When?”

  More silence, and his brow furrows. “Can do. Thanks.” He ends the calls and pockets the phone then crosses his arms over his chest and stares out the window.

  “Who was that?” I ask. There’s something on his face that I can’t read. An uncertainty. Or maybe apprehension. But there’s also a determination. It flexes in his jaw and his neck and burns brightly in his eyes as he casts his gaze out onto my little front yard.

  He’s standing at an angle that makes me appreciate how huge he’s become—taller and broader than in high school. Everything about him is masculine and magnetic. It’s a curious feeling—not having anyone to love or to stare at and then finding some combination of model and action hero who wants to play house with me. And he wants to do more than just pretend.