Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27599 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
She handed me a notebook. I slowly took the leather-bound journal from her. “Yes. Write to your baby every day. It may help you sort through everything you’re struggling to come to terms with about this entire situation.”
I blew out a soft breath, my heart hammering in my chest.
She was really forcing me to face it now. There was no more slowly working me into it.
15
Jonah
The house was extremely quiet when I walked in that evening. Blaze had texted me and Montana earlier in our group chat that he was working late due to an issue at one of his other offices. But still, Montana should have been here. She never left without letting one of us know first that she was going somewhere. Blaze even made sure she always had access to one of his vehicles so she wasn’t always stranded at home.
I toed my boots off by the front door, and that was when I heard it.
Montana was crying.
My heart thumping quickly in my chest, I rushed into the living room. She was sitting on the floor at the coffee table, a journal open in front of her. She was crying as she wrote in it. A sob tore from her chest.
“Montana,” I breathed, quickly sinking onto the ground beside her. She gripped her pen tighter, another sob ripping from her chest. I quickly wrapped her up in my arms. “Fuck, baby girl. Come here.”
I pulled her onto my lap and gently rocked her, holding her in my arms. “Please don’t hate me,” she cried, her voice wobbling.
I tightened my hold on her, cradling the side of her head. “I could never hate you, baby girl,” I promised her. The mere thought of ever hating her made me want to laugh. This girl was my entire world. Hate wasn’t a word I could ever associate with her.
“I came to a decision about the baby.”
Shit.
And she’d come to that decision with no one here to console her. Goddammit.
“Talk to me,” I coaxed. “Tell me about it.” I rubbed my hand down her spine, hoping it would soothe her.
She rested her hand on her belly, surprising the fuck out of me. It was the first time she’d touched it without looking freaked out. “I want to give it up for adoption,” she whispered, her voice cracking on several words. “I can’t—fuck, I feel like I’m giving up on it, but I can’t do it, Jonah,” she croaked.
“There’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl,” I soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Being strong enough to make this decision, being strong enough to let this baby be with a family that has doting parents that will love on it and give it everything in the world, that takes strength.”
She curled her fingers into my grease-stained, dirty t-shirt. “You don’t hate me?” she asked.
I shook my head at her, pressing my lips to her forehead. “I could never hate you,” I repeated. “I’m so fucking proud of you for making this kind of decision. So goddamn proud of you, Montana. Because being a mother means making hard decisions and sacrifices.”
She tucked her face against the side of my neck and continued to cry, allowing me to just hold her as she got this out of her system.
Time would heal all wounds. I knew that, and until she got to the point that she could heal from this on her own, I’d fucking hold her together the best I could.
Blaze stepped into the living room, frowning when he saw Montana curled up in my lap, asleep. I hadn’t moved from the floor. For me to get up, I’d have to wake her. And I didn’t want to do that. She needed the rest after what I’d walked in on.
“Help me get her to bed,” I whispered.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves before coming over and gently lifting her from my lap. She moaned softly in protest but thankfully didn’t wake up. I stood from the floor, groaning when my back popped.
I followed him into the bedroom, watching as he gently deposited her on the huge bed and covered her up. He took a moment to brush his fingers over her cheek before standing up to his full height.
“I need to get a shower, and then we need to talk,” I quietly told him.
He nodded, gesturing to the bathroom before leaving the room.
After my shower, I found Blaze in the kitchen, where he was eating leftover lasagna from the day before. Montana had taken to cooking. It was one of her new healthy coping mechanisms. Some days, we came home to whole cakes and multiple batches of cookies. Sometimes, we had enough food to feed an army.
But she was learning ways to cope on her own, so we never said anything. I took food to the guys at work and sent extra home with John. Even today, he’d joked that he hadn’t eaten take-out in two weeks because of all the food his little sister was making.