With My Whole Heart Page 5

  Connor hadn’t felt the same calling, though. Cole had enlisted and headed to boot camp, and Connor had gone to college instead.

  He listened to the murmur of voices grow softer, more distant and knew Cooper, Marie, and the woman had gone into the kitchen. Connor had been supposed to meet her, not understanding why Cooper wanted him to have a face to go with the carrier’s name, Jaime Grimes, but he’d been willing to go along with it. He’d laughed and told his brother, “Least I can do.”

  Connor lifted a hand, knuckles grinding roughly across his sternum, accepting the pain as his due.

  Knowing this woman standing in his big brother’s kitchen understood about loss, too, he couldn’t go in there. Couldn’t face her, afraid she’d see the guilt he tried to keep buried. If I’d been there.

  Turning on his heel, he stalked to the door and went out, closing it soundlessly behind him.

  ***

  Jaime

  Marie glanced up at the clock over the stove and then back to Cooper. She appeared to be studying him, undecided about something. Jaime set her empty glass on the table, the rattle of ice cubes bringing Marie’s attention to her. “I’m so glad you invited me today.” That wasn’t a lie, either, because getting to know the couple had made Jaime even more determined to make this happen for them. “I need to call a cab, and then I’ll be out of your hair.” She smiled and reached across the table, covering Marie’s hand with her own. “So very glad.” She squeezed then released, pulling her phone from her back pocket.

  “Let me get you more tea.” Marie’s offer came quickly, and she was up and out of her chair before Jaime could respond.

  Cooper intervened, his voice quiet when he said, “Marie. Jaime’s got to go.” He twisted his neck and smiled at Jaime. “Nate’ll be home soon. And we”—he turned his smile on his wife—“need to pick up Sam from daycare.”

  Marie turned around, and her scrunched-up nose looked so much like an expression Nate used that Jaime had to stifle a laugh. “Connor didn’t come.”

  “You knew it was iffy.” Cooper shook his head. “He probably had to work. It’s middle of the week. He probably had trouble getting a substitute.”

  Call made, Jaime put her phone up and asked, “Substitute?” She knew a lot about Marie and Cooper, but Connor was more of a mystery.

  “He’s a teacher,” Marie said, at the same time Cooper said, “He’s a coach.” He laughed, walking to his wife to clasp her hand in his. “He’s both, actually. Teaches history and coaches basketball, too. Always been a multitasker.”

  “That’s nice.” She tried to keep the frown from her face when she asked, “He was supposed to come today? I didn’t know.” Good thing, too. I was nervous enough about meeting Marie and Cooper without knowing I was to meet the entire Thompson clan.

  “He’s worried.” Marie leaned against her husband. “With Sam, the donor and carrier weren’t the same person. He’s been concerned about our choice this go around. I wanted to set his mind at ease, and I knew just from the videos that meeting you would be what he needed.” She shook her head. “He worries.”

  Jaime thought about Jacob and Trent, and knew if they were starting this process, she’d be worried too. “I understand.” She smiled. “If I get a chance to meet him, I hope I can reassure him. I’m not surprised he’s concerned. I know from experience how brothers can be like that.”

  A horn sounded from the front of the house, and Jaime stood, patting her pockets to make certain she had everything. “Thank you again. I’m so glad to meet you both. I’m ready to get started as soon as the clinic calls.”

  Marie pulled away from Cooper and came to Jaime, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “We’re going to make a baby,” she whispered in Jaime’s ear.

  “We are.”

  ***

  “We’re late, Nate” she called, digging through the pockets of the jacket Nate had thrown on the couch. “Get a move on, Grimes. Put some hustle in your bustle.”

  “Minute.” He sounded distracted, so as soon as she retrieved the item she was looking for, she went to the doorway of his room. Tongue trapped between his teeth, he was seated on the edge of his mattress, bent nearly double as he scribbled in a notebook.

  When he didn’t look up, she reminded him, “We’re late. You don’t want to be late for the first practice.” He jerked his gaze to her, then back to the notebook with a nod. She smiled as she shook her head, having seen him like this more than once. Caught up in an idea, he could be lost in his head within moments, and stay that way for hours as he wrote and researched to prove or disprove his theory. “Wanna stay home?” Without looking up again, he shook his head. Fingers tight around the pen, his hand flew across the page for another few seconds. Then he folded it neatly and tucked it into the book open on the bed in front of him.

  “Ready,” he said. He looked at her, but she knew from his expression he didn’t see her face. Whatever this was, it had a tight hold on him. He didn’t move, didn’t rise from the bed as she waited, giving him a minute to pull himself out of the idea. “Mom.”

  “Bring the book, you can work on the bus?” She offered a solution that had sufficed in the past. He sighed. “Stay home and work?” His head shook back and forth slowly. “Leave and let your big brain work on the problem, and it will be sorted out when you get home all sweaty and body-tired?”

  His chin jerked up and he stared at her, eyes round in shock. “That’s really smart.”

  “You say that like you’re surprised,” she scoffed with a grin. “Come on, let’s go. We’ve got—” She pulled her phone out, and thumbed the welcome screen to life. “—three minutes to catch the bus.” He came off the bed in a rush and slammed into her, arms around her hips. “Hey, there. I know you.” Hands on his shoulders, she walked backwards, leading him out of the room before directing him gently towards the door, shoving the envelope into her back pocket. “You’re the kid who’s not gonna be late.”

  They sat on the bus, having made it just before the driver closed the doors, taking their seats still laughing like crazy people at how close it had been. Nate leaned into her side and she lifted an arm, circling his shoulders. “I love you, Nate.” The bus jerked and slowed, the sound of the air brakes pulsing through the air.

  Nate shifted, getting closer as he looked up. “Will you love the new baby?”

  His quiet question was so unexpected she simply stared at him for a moment, unsure. Do I tell him the truth and have him wonder how I could give away someone I love, or— She cut off the thought because she tried not to lie to Nate. “Yes, I will love it.” He kept his eyes on her, intent on her words. “There are different kinds of love, honey. Even in families with tons of kids, the parents don’t love the kids the same. The love I have for you is part of me. The love I have for Uncle Jacob, it’s part of me, too. But it’s not the same part. Sometimes loving people is about making sure you give them the best you have, and the things they need. I love your Uncle Jacob, but when he needed to go and live with Uncle Trent, I didn’t argue.”

  “Like you could have. Uncle Jakey is a beast when he’s on a mission.” Nate’s brow furrowed. “You wanted him to stay here?”

  “Of course, that’s the selfish kind of love, though. I wanted him to never leave. But that wouldn’t be good for him. And it wouldn’t have been good for Uncle Trent.” Jaime chewed on her lip for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I would have gotten what I wanted, but it would have cost them.”

  Nate’s eyes widened and he nodded. Something she’d said made sense. Thank God. “Necessary and sufficient conditions. I get it. You love Uncle Jake and want him happy. He makes you happy and is happy with you. He would have been happy here, but Uncle Trent makes him happiest. Uncle Jake’s happiness matters to you, so the quotient of his happiness was greater if you didn’t try and make him stay, even if that meant you didn’t have as much happiness. Him being happy made you happier even if he wasn’t here.”

  Jaime chewed her lip again, try
ing to follow his logic. “Uh, yeah. Him being happiest makes me happy, even if that happiest comes at the cost of me missing him like crazy.”

  “So you’ll love the baby like that.” Nate’s cheeks pushed up, his smile so wide he was squinting. “That makes sense.” He looked down a moment, and when he glanced back up, his lips were pulled to the side, giving her a lopsided grin. “You’re smart, Mom.”

  “And you’re a smart-butt.” She dug her fingers into his side, glancing up and looking around when he laughed loudly, successfully squirming away. “Next stop is ours, buddy. Big ole church coming up. And then—” She paused, leaning close. “—basketball.”

  Inside the church, they followed the posted signs leading to the back of the structure and hurried down a corridor, turning a corner to see a gymnasium that stretched the length of the building. There were at least a four dozen kids already in groups, but Jaime was relieved to see a fair number of boys still wandering around. Not late, she thought.

  A tall man stood to one side, watching the milling groups with a small smile on his face. With a whistle around his neck, he looked the part, so she assumed he must be the organizer of this program, which was new to their neighborhood. Nate trailed behind her a few steps as she made her way towards the man, giving her a moment to take in the masculine beauty in front of her. His sculpted forearms were folded across his chest, bringing her attention to the defined muscles of his entire upper torso. As she got closer, he glanced at her and she was startled by a sense of recognition. I don’t think I know him, she thought, studying his face for a moment, still feeling like she should. Clean-shaven, his jaw was firm and square, and his brown eyes looked at her, gaze holding steady. “Hi,” she began and waved a hand towards Nate, “he’s nine. Where does he need to be?”

  “Does nine have a name?” The gravel-filled voice stroked through the air and Jaime shivered. “Or can I name him?”

  She laughed, and hated the way it sounded, airy and flirty when that was far from how she felt. Tearing her eyes away from him, she stared down at her son. Remember, this is Nate’s coach. He probably has hordes of basketball moms hitting on him. Tone it down, woman. “Nate. His name is Nate Grimes.”

  A hand extended past her, and she watched as Nate gripped it in return, pumping solemnly two or three times. “Good to meet you, Nate. I’m Coach.”

  “Hey, Coach.” Nate’s smile lit up his face like it always did. “I’m ready to go.”

  “I can see you are.” Coach moved a step closer. Jaime could see his feet and legs, watched with fascination as they shifted towards her. “Eight through ten are in the far corner. We’ve got some good competition, Nate. You played ball before?’

  “Yes, sir.” Nate’s chest puffed out proudly. “I like basketball best.” Jaime grinned, and he looked up at her. “What, Mom?”

  “Nothing, honey.” He liked studying best, she thought, but basketball comes in a close second. Without looking at the coach, she turned and waved to where several other parents were perched on a set of fold-out bleachers nearby. “I’ll be over here.”

  She was walking away when she overheard Coach ask Nate, “Mom have a name?” Rolling her eyes, she didn’t wait to hear Nate’s response. Seated on the narrow bench, she pulled out the envelope she’d retrieved from Nate’s jacket before leaving their apartment. When he got home from school, he’d told her Solon had stopped him in the lobby and asked him to bring it up to her.

  Opening it, she pulled out a single sheet of paper and stared at it in disbelief. The first words were large and black, centered at the top of the page. Eviction notice.

  ***

  Connor

  Connor scowled down at the clipboard in his hands. He was supposed to be working with the older boys, having arranged this with his assistants before the clinic started. They never knew how many kids would actually show up to these clinics, so, long ago he’d established a protocol that everyone could recite in their sleep. Kids were divided by age, with those divisions getting smaller as the kids got older, and bigger. That helped keep the groups more evenly matched, physically at least. Talent didn’t discriminate, and a kid with the juice at eleven or twelve could still run circles around a sixteen-year-old. It’d piss off the teenager, and then he’d court injuries if they retaliated, so Connor kept the older kids together.

  Distracted, he had nearly let his group get out of control, and was now working to bring them back without being a dick about it. “Good,” he called, pointing at one boy. “Do that again, slower, show the group how to make the crossover work for you.” He’d seeded this group with a couple of kids he knew, talking them into coming tonight. He grinned. Not that it took a lot of persuasion to convince someone who loved the game to take advantage of some free coaching time.

  Glancing across the gym, he watched his friend working with the eight to ten boys. A grade school PE teacher, originally Miles had been scheduled for the group just under the ones Connor was working with. When the kid, Nate, had shown aptitude, Connor had shifted things on the fly, glad he didn’t have to make up a story to get Miles on the kid.

  Connor motioned to one of the roving assistants, telling him, “Keep them focused on passing. Do another set of one-hand passing, then a set of catch, dribble, pass.” Stepping to put his back against the wall, he turned his full attention to the other end of the gym. To anyone watching him, it would look like he was observing the entire practice. In reality, he only had eyes for the blonde in the bleachers. Jaime Grimes. Marie and Cooper’s surrogate.

  Her reaction when she came in didn’t tell him anything about her. Nothing except that she had not the faintest clue who he was. He hadn’t wanted to tip her off and was glad he’d introduced himself simply as Coach. Nate would have called him that anyway, or at the most Coach T, like a lot of the kids did. Jaime, however, didn’t call him anything. After she’d eye fucked him, she’d studiously ignored him. He had ceased to exist for her, and that bugged him in a different way.

  He’d been staring at her for several minutes before he realized she wasn’t moving. She wasn’t seeing anything. Not really. Face fixed forwards, someone could have been fooled that she was watching Nate’s group. When the other kids executed a move, their parents would straighten and glance around, hoping someone else had seen their offspring excel against their peers. Not Jaime. For as involved as she’d been when she and her kid had entered the gym together, right now she was lost inside her own head.

  Connor narrowed his eyes, seeing a piece of paper in her hand. Her other hand was curled into a loose fist, tucked under her chin, elbow propped on her knee. Bent over as she was, it looked almost like she was feeling ill.

  He strolled the length of the gym, talking to the assistants as he went, but his focus remained on Jaime. She didn’t move the entire time he was walking. It had been a week since she was at Cooper’s. Maybe they’d started the process and the paper was bad news. What if she wasn’t a good candidate after everything Cooper and Marie had been through? Connor grimaced. If it was bad news, he wanted to know before Cooper did, so he could try and soften the blow. He drifted in her direction, coming to a stop next to the bleachers. Surreptitiously, he eyed the paper, pulling in a hard breath when he saw why she was frozen. Evicted from her apartment.

  Fuck.

  He glanced over at Nate, seeing the boy had noticed his mother’s distress finally and was on his way toward them. Reaching up, Connor snatched the paper from her fingers and crumpled it, shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. Nate took two bounding steps up the bleachers, his tone worried beyond anything Connor would have expected, asked, “Mom, are you okay?”

  Connor had shocked her with his action and he could see the fear on her features, then she carefully smoothed her expression and faced Nate. “Right as rain, honey. You’re doing great.” She smiled, but something must have been off because Nate wasn’t buying what she was trying to sell.

  “Something’s wrong.” Chin out, Nate demanded, “What’s wrong, Mom?�
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  “Nothing I can’t fix.” Connor shifted so he could see her face, where the determination on her features backed up her confident statement. “Now go, don’t waste Coach’s time.” Nate hesitated, and she smiled, this one more genuine as she reassured the boy, “Nothing I can’t fix. I promise.”

  She waited for Nate to get all the way back across the gym and to his group before she turned to Connor. “May I have that back, please?” She’d projected confidence for Nate, but was more fragile than she wanted to admit, and her voice wavered for an instant, turning her request into a plea. Connor studied her, watched how she pressed her lips together and knew it was to keep them from quivering.

  Slowly he shook his head.

  She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest, fighting for control in a public place.

  He was an ass for making her go through this, but he had a feeling. One he hadn’t experienced in a long time. She pulled in a shuddering breath, and he watched as a single tear broke free, trailing down her cheek, that shimmering droplet reflecting the gym’s lights. His skin tingled as it traveled to her jaw, hanging there for a moment before it dropped to her shirt. “Please. If you saw what it said, you know what I’m dealing with. Please.” Her lips parted as she took another broken breath. “Don’t do this. I don’t even know you. Please.”

  “Let me help.” He didn’t know what he was going to say when he opened his mouth, but once the words were out, they felt right. “Let me help you.”

  Expression twisting, she looked anguished as she squeezed her eyes tightly for a moment then opened them and lifted her chin, staring into his face. “No, thank you.” One small hand extended, she repeated her request. “May I have that back, please?”

  Damn. Crystal blue eyes framed with tear-clumped lashes, she held his gaze. She doesn’t look anything like Marie, he thought. Marie was pretty, but this woman was beautiful. And this woman, this gorgeous, compassionate, fierce, protective woman and mother, did not want his help.