Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)

Contemptible. Reprehensible. And unforgivable.

She’d come to him. Laire had come back to him to tell him that she loved him and was having their baby, and his mother—his despicable fucking mother—had sabotaged his happiness. He’d lost six years of his life, and five and a half years of his daughter’s life, because of that night. He’d lost his faith in women and his trust in love. He’d lost hope. He’d lost himself. And it was so devastating to learn that it had been at his mother’s willful hands, he almost couldn’t breathe.

He threw his arm over his eyes, hiding his tears from her—from Laire, who must have been so scared and alone that night. She’d had no family, no money, no plan . . . and his mother, Ava Grace’s grandmother, had threatened to have her arrested, so she’d run away. How the hell had she survived? How had she and Ava Grace made it?

“Laire,” he ground out, still lying on his back. “Who helped you?”

“Who do you think?” she asked softly.

Erik took a deep breath, thinking back to those days: she’d had her family, right? But they wouldn’t have helped her. The moment they found out she was pregnant, they would have washed their hands of her.

So who else? Who else? Her whole life was Corey Island, except for the nights she spent at the Pamlico House.

“The Pamlico House,” he murmured, lowering his arm. “Your boss . . . Mrs . . . Ms. . . .”

“Sebastian,” she said softly with a sad smile.

Boone. That’s where Nana lived. Afore she died.

“Nana,” he said, rolling onto his side, mirroring Laire, watching her eyes soften as they spoke of her benefactor.

She nodded. “Nana.”

“She took you in?”

“She adopted me, for all intents and purposes. She was moving to Boone to be closer to her son, and she took me with her. She was next to me when I gave birth to Ava Grace, coaching me through my breathing. She gave us a place to live. She watched my baby while I went to college. Her son, Patrick, was an uncle to Ava Grace. We were . . . Erik, we were surrounded with love.” She was still crying, but her face wasn’t as heartbreaking as it had been when she was talking about his mother. “She saved our lives.”

“The condo here?”

“Was hers,” said Laire. “She left it to me when she died last summer.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, wincing at her loss. He reached for her hip, pulling her closer. When their foreheads were touching, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry you lost her.”

“I’m so grateful I had her,” she whispered back.

“Am I all caught up, darlin’?”

“Yes,” she said, her sweet breath kissing his lips as the tension drained from their bodies. “Wait. No.”

“No?” he asked, cracking open an eye.

“By chance,” she said softly, “I ran into the love of my life at the inn where she hired me to work so long ago. And I just . . . maybe this sounds crazy, but I feel like that was Judith’s—Ms. Sebastian’s—final gift to me: giving me a condo here so that I’d have to come back and find you.”

You don’t have any business with an island girl, now, do you?

He pictured Judith Sebastian’s stern face with a wave of gratitude that almost leveled him. She’d always wanted what was best for Laire, and maybe, finally, at the end of her life, she’d decided that was him. He’d always respected her—it comforted him to believe that Ms. Sebastian had put Laire in a position to find him again.

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” he said, tenderly kissing the bridge of her nose. “Sounds like she wanted you to be happy.”

“We’ll be happy if we’re with you,” she murmured, nuzzling him.

Erik drew her so close that their hearts were touching and their legs intertwined. “I want that more than anythin’, darlin’.”

“Good.” She snuggled closer, melting into him with a sigh. “This is so nice.”

He rubbed her back, pressing his lips to hers.

“Mmmm,” she sighed, her eyes closed, her body languid against him. “Would it be okay if we slept for a little while? I feel like I’ve been running for years. I’m so . . . tired.”

“Of course, baby,” he said, clasping her body tightly to his. “I’ve got you now. You sleep.”

“You too,” she murmured.

“Sure,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Me too.”

It took only a minute or two for her breathing to become deep and even, but there was no way Erik was going to sleep. His mind was racing, bouncing between the four most important women in his life and trying to make sense out of where they each fit into his after this epic conversation with Laire.