Bye-Bye Baby: The Baby Saga, #2

Also by Airicka Phoenix

Games of Fire

Betraying Innocence

TOUCH SAGA

Touching Smoke

Touching Fire

Touching Eternity

THE LOST GIRL SERIES

Finding Kia

Revealing Kia

REGENERATION SERIES

When Night Falls

THE BABY SAGA

Forever His Baby

IN THE DARK SERIES

My Soul For You

Kissing Trouble

SONS OF JUDGMENT SAGA

Octavian’s Undoing

ANTHOLOGY

Whispered Beginnings: A Clever Fiction Anthology

Midnight Surrender Anthology

Dedication

My Readers,

For helping keep my dream alive.

Acknowledgement

I want to start this acknowledgement off by thanking my readers. It’s because of you that this book exists. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read and love Forever His Baby. Please enjoy Bye-Bye Baby as my thank you for being so incredible.

More thank yous go to Katherine for squeezing in time for me, no matter how crazy the deadline. You are such an amazing and generous friend.

Jaime and Krystal, you ladies never fail to make me feel like a rock star. Thank you for always having my back and for being as strange as I am.

My online family, the girls in the dark court, thank you for never letting me fall, but always helping me soar.

My real life family, thank you as always for loving me. All of me. The love I have for you, there is no word for it in the human language. It is beyond this world.

Please enjoy and thank you again.

Love always,

~Airicka

Bye-Bye Baby

Chapter One ~ Cole

There is a fine line between patience and murder.

At least, that was what his college professor had always told him. Cole had never understood the terminology until moving back to Willow Creek and remembered why he’d been so adamant to leave in the first place.

Mrs. Boyce, I can’t sue your neighbor just because he likes to water his grass early in the morning, he explained through gritted teeth for the ninth time with all the patience he could muster without shattering his jaw. He can water his lawn whenever he wants.

But his hose is so loud! Mrs. Boyce stressed. It sounds like a horse is taking a piss in my begonias.

While the image made Cole want to recoil, he forced a smile and decided to take a different route.

Why don’t I talk to him and see if we can’t come to some type of arrangement?

The heavy creases around her gray eyes deepened when she squinted at him. Well, that’s all I asked you to do. She shuffled to her feet, barely able to see over the desk as she pried open the top of her clutch purse and rummaged inside. Cole started to tell her not to worry about paying him; after all, it wasn’t like he actually had to do anything. But she pulled out a peppermint candy and set it down on his desk. She smiled fondly at him.

For being such a good boy.

Cole simply smiled and waited until she was out of his office before dropping his forehead against his desk with a tortured groan.

It was noon on a weekend and Mrs. Boyce had been the only person to pass through those doors in over two weeks. The deafening silence of his office was beginning to grate on his nerves. Even the tiny radio he’d brought in to fill it seemed only to agitate him with useless noise. Every stitch of paperwork had been filed, refiled, and then filed again, just to keep his mind from going insane. Yet, nevertheless, he would return the next day, and the next, feasibly until the day he died, because at some point during his short few years in law school, he had sold his soul to the devil and purgatory was now his new home. Which meant he would be trapped in that closet sized space, tucked into the very far corner of an even smaller building forever. And, possibly as a joke, someone had lined his room with paisley red wallpaper, so not only did it feel like hell, but it looked like hell, or some scene from The Shining.

He was still hunched over with his eyes closed when the door opened and the sweetest sound in the world filled the room.

Daddy!

Cole’s head jerked up. He blinked back the blur across his vision and focused on the tiny blonde person bounding past the empty reception’s area, straight into his cramped little office.

Hey!

He lunged out of his chair, ignored it when it rolled back a foot and slammed into the filing cabinets behind his metal desk, and hurried around just as Calla leaped into his outstretched arms. Her thin ones wound around his neck and she held him with all the strength in her tiny body. Her riot of curls the color of spun gold smelled of strawberries and he breathed it all in with his eyes closed.

A shuffling alerted him to the second person stepping into the room. His eyes opened and he grinned at the tiny blonde woman grinning back at him.

Hey, stranger.

Lily McClain, sister-in-law, baby mama, and all around best friend in the world, raised a fine, blonde eyebrow. Hey, yourself.

She was a tiny thing with sleek blonde hair and a thin face. Her eyes were a wide brown that reminded him of a doe’s. Looking at her, it was impossible to tell she’d had two babies. Her silhouette was slender beneath the heavy coat and jeans. Calla, the love of Cole’s life was the one they shared together thanks to a very stupid pact six years ago involving an old condom and their virginities. Finding out they had a daughter hadn’t changed the dynamics of their friendship. Lily, who had been in love with Cole’s brother, Sloan, her entire life, had gotten and married the man of her dreams and Cole had gotten a beautiful daughter. Cole couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.

He glanced down around her legs for the second small person that should have been with her.

Where’s pipsqueak?

Lily and Sloan’s daughter, Willa, was two years younger than Calla and the exact opposite of her sister. While Calla was bold and loud, Willa was shy and pensive. Cole guessed that Calla had gotten that streak from him, while Willa was the miniature version of Sloan with his ever brooding demeanor.

With my mom baking cookies. Lily moved deeper into the room. Calla wanted to come see you since we were already in town shopping. I hope that’s all right?

Cole propped his daughter onto his hip. Of course it’s all right. I’m always happy to see my girl. He tweaked her nose and earned a giggle. You’re getting heavy.

Uncle Sloan says I’m almost big enough to help him move people, Calla announced proudly. Willa’s still too small.

Cole nodded. He could be right. I’d have to see your muscles to be sure.

Face bunched into one of comical toughness, Calla raised a bony arm and tried to make her biceps bulge beneath the puffy material of her jacket.

Cole made the appropriate sounds of awe and wonder. Would you look at that? He squeezed the soft muscles with his free hand. "You’re practically He-Man!"

Blue eyes bright with excitement, Calla looked from her mother to her father. "Who’s He-Man?"

Someone before even your father’s time, Lily muttered with amusement.

Hey, I’ve seen posters. Cole replied with feigned outrage. So where are you guys headed after here?

Mommy says I need shoes, Calla said, jutting out a foot so he could see the worn tops of her sneakers.

Cole frowned. Didn’t mommy buy you shoes a couple of weeks ago?

Calla nodded with all the seriousness of a six year old. Uncle Sloan says I play like a boy.

I believe it, Cole replied, gingerly setting her down. I have four more hours here, but I can swing by after supper and pick you and Willa up. We can go out and get ice cream, if it’s okay with your mom.

Calla’s eyes widened. Is it, Mom?

Lily nodded. Sure, but why don’t you come over for supper, Cole?

Because I had supper with you guys yesterday, and the day before that.

Lily rolled her eyes. So?

Well, I do have my own apartment with a functioning kitchen.

Lily frowned, her lips pursing. Yes, but I don’t like you being there by yourself. You really should consider moving back.

Cole burst out laughing. Move back? He laughed harder. In a two bedroom house with four other people?

It’s not that funny, she grumbled. We can move the girl’s playroom from the basement, or ... I don’t know, build another room, or something.

Cole raised an eyebrow. Seriously?

She threw her hands up. We can figure it out.

Stepping around their daughter, he pulled Lily into his arms and kissed the top of her head noisily. Will you stop fussing? You’re giving yourself gray hairs.

She smacked his chest. Shut up.

Chuckling, he drew away.

Lily eyed him, her expression sad and he knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth. It’s been four years, Cole. Maybe it’s time you—

I don’t want to talk about it, Lil, he cut in sharply. I need to get back to work.

She looked like there was more on her chest she wanted to get off, but reluctantly relented and set a gentle hand on Calla’s shoulder.

Will you at least come for supper? Please?

Yeah! Please, Daddy? Calla chimed in, doing a little bounce on the balls of her feet.

His heart softened at the sight of his baby’s big, blue eyes and puckered bottom lip.

Yeah, I’ll be there. He ruffled her curls fondly. But no Brussel sprouts!

Yeah! No Brussel sprouts! Calla recited with verve, pointing a stubby finger at her mother.

Lily glowered at him. Brussel sprouts are good for you!

They smell like feet, Calla complained.

You smell like feet, Lily muttered with a teasing grin as she poked Calla in the nose.

The two giggled and the sound was pure, unduplicatable magic.

Cole watched them with his own mouth twitching.

When they left with a final hug and kiss from Calla, he just stood there, staring at the ugly red wallpaper and brown, wood trim and wondered if the devil would sprout out of the walls if he set the fucking place on fire.

Policer and Warner Law Firm was owned by Stan Policer and Gabe Warner. The pair were old as dirt and were usually off spending their remaining days fishing, which had been awesome when Cole had first signed up. All he had to do was sit there and wait for someone to come to him with a case. Cole hadn’t minded being the only person there in the beginning, but as time went by, the vast amount of free time had begun to drive him batty; there weren’t many actual legal cases in a town as small as Willow Creek. There was the occasional divorce, the odd neighborly spat that was resolved over homemade cookies before the ink dried on the file and once in a while, someone came in asking if they could use his phone. It was any wonder he made any money at all. Stan and Gabe paid him—thankfully—biweekly, or he’d never make ends meet, or help pay for the many number of sneakers Calla seemed to go through in a month.

When he’d gone to college to become a lawyer, he’d always pictured himself in a fancy top floor office with wall to wall windows and thousand dollar suits. That dream had nearly become a reality, then he learned about Calla and all that changed. And while he didn’t regret his decision, he couldn’t help wondering what his life would have been like if he had stayed on course, if he had gotten that junior position at Barkley and Boyd and moved into the city.

Maybe then, she wouldn’t have left him.

As quickly as the thoughts resurfaced, he squashed them. He had no right thinking that way. He had a beautiful little girl that he wouldn’t give up for anything. Thinking otherwise was a betrayal of the unconditional love she had for him. Plus, thinking what if did nobody any good. Beth was gone. She left him. There was nothing he could do about that.

With the all too familiar weight of grief, anger, and disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach, Cole finished his work. He closed up the office and made his way the two blocks to his apartment to shower and change. Autumn had fallen over Willow Creek and everything held the crisp scent of approaching winter. Several people waved to him in passing. They asked how he was, how Calla was, and if he’d heard anything about what was going on with the Porters. Cole had no answer to the latter. The Porters kept to themselves and he wasn’t the sort to care one way or another if they were having marital problems. Although, if they were, maybe it would finally give him some work.

At home in his two bedroom apartment, Cole showered and switched his navy blue suit for a pair of jeans and a sweater. He drew a light coat on and headed out to his car.

The old farmhouse Sloan had bought years ago looked nothing like Cole’s childhood memories of the place. It had been freshly repainted and the summer blooms that Lily religiously planted every summer had been dug up and the soil had been turned over for next year’s planting. There were toys strewn across the lawn, a bicycle was propped against the stairway, and one of the girls had drawn colorful people with chalk on the path to the front door. Cole climbed the steps and helped himself inside without knocking.

The beautiful sound of chaos greeted him first, followed by the warmth and the sweet smell of something rich and creamy. He shrugged out of his coat and snagged it on the hook marked Cole. His shoes went on the plastic mat and, in his sock clad feet, he padded into the sitting room.

The TV was blaring. A series of colorful ponies were running through an apple orchard. Calla sat on the floor, head bent over a coloring book, frantically rubbing a pink crayon down to a nub. Willa was on the sofa, mouth slightly gaping, as she watched whatever was taking place on the screen. Her hair, a shade darker than Calla’s, was in a messy ponytail that left tendrils framing her rosy cheeks. Her tiny feet twitched every so often, like she wanted to jump up and gallop along with the ponies on TV.

Cole smiled. Hello darlings.

Calla’s head jerked up first. Her face lit up. Daddy!

Pink crayon forgotten, she bolted across the room and threw herself at his midsection. It took Willa a second longer to wiggle off the sofa, but she followed her sister and latched on to Cole’s other side with an elated, Uncle Cole!

How’s my two favorite girls?

He scooped Willa up into his arms, took Calla by the hand and led both girls back to the sofa. He sat with Willa in his lap while Calla described the pink mess on her pages.

Then they popped him with a needle and pink goo went everywhere, she finished with flourish.

That is very interesting. He remarked carefully, still not sure why the butterfly had eaten all the pink flowers, or why anyone would pop him with a needle. Where’s Mommy and Daddy, Will?

Head resting on his shoulder, Willa pointed towards the kitchen. Kissing.

Cole rolled his eyes. Of course they are. He planted a smacking kiss to Willa’s nose before dumping the girl onto the sofa and getting to his feet. I better go in there before they burn the food ... again.

Both girls giggled.

At the kitchen doorway, he paused and called, I’m coming in! You better be dressed.

There was a stretch of silence, followed by a series of hushed whispers, then Lily’s voice calling his name.

Is it safe? he asked.

Of course it’s safe, Sloan muttered. The girls are awake.

And yet, when Cole walked into the room, there was a dark flush on Lily’s face, her lips were wet and swollen and her clothes looked like they’d been pulled together in a rush. Sloan just looked irritated, which was normal whenever Cole interrupted their make out sessions.

Get a room, you two, he teased.

This is a room. Sloan answered as he always did. How was work?

Cole rolled his eyes. Long. Tedious. Normal. You?

Sloan shrugged his wide shoulders. About the same.

After the death of their mother, Sloan had taken it upon himself to buy out a dying moving company with whatever was left of the insurance money after he’d bought the house. While he didn’t rake in the big bucks, he made a good living, but moving wasn’t something Cole was ever good at. Hard, manual labor, sweating, and lifting and bending made him shudder. He was more of a sit and work type of person, which was why, when Sloan had offered him a place in his company, Cole had refused, to which he had a feeling Sloan was secretly relieved.

Spatula in hand, Lily ventured to the stove and began stirring whatever was boiling there. Is no one going to ask how my day was?

Cole dumped himself into one of the chairs at the table. How was your day, Lil?

She smiled. It was fine. Thank you for asking.

Sloan went over to possibly help. Cole wasn’t sure, but his hands found their way on Lily’s hips instead and the two forgot all about him as Sloan went on to nuzzle the curve of her neck.

You know, you two really know how to bring a guy down, he said, only half teasing. I mean, not all of us have women we can freely grope, and no, that wasn’t a request to find me someone.

With a giggle that had nothing to do with Cole’s statement, but the fact that Sloan had been nibbling on her ear, Lily pulled away from her husband and turned to face him.

You need to find someone, she told him. There are tons of girls in town.

Yes, but he didn’t want a ton of girls. He wanted one girl. Unfortunately for him, she didn’t want him.

I’m done with girls, he stated simply. I’m swearing off them forever.

Lily scowled at him. That’s ridiculous. You can’t swear off women.

Sure I can. I already have a kid so I don’t even need to worry about someone not carrying on my lineage.

The look on Lily’s face told him he was an idiot. You are not serious. What about sex?

Cole snorted. Unlike you two who fuck like bunnies on crack every chance you get, I can wait, or if I really need to, I can take matters into my own hands, or I can—

Okay, oh my god, stop! Lily covered her ears. That is a disturbing visual. Thanks.

Cole shrugged. You asked.

Shaking her head, she went back to stirring. You need someone, Cole. You’re twenty-five years old. You can’t be alone for the rest of your life. I mean, yes, Beth left you, but that doesn’t mean you can just swear off women forever.

She didn’t just leave me, Lily, he muttered, feeling his good mood literally drain out of him. I asked her to marry me and she all but passed out, and it wasn’t out of joy. I honestly didn’t think a person could turn that shade of green.

Okay, so she’s not the marrying sort, but that doesn’t mean—

I don’t have anything to give anyone else, Lil. Everything I had, I gave her, and she never gave any of it back.

Lily turned, her brown eyes unusually bright. Oh Cole...

He looked away. I’m not going to put myself through that again.

Thankfully, Lily knew when to drop a topic. Discussions about Beth were shoved back into the closet, possibly for another day, and the subject turned to the new batch of photos Lily’d taken earlier that morning. They talked about her small photography business that was mostly big online and the new picture Calla had drawn in school that was pinned to the fridge along with all the others. When it was time to eat, Cole helped set the table, got the girls to wash their hands, and joined his family in eating supper. Most of the conversation was kept up by Willa and Calla telling everyone about all the things they did that day. Cole didn’t know what it was, but he could sit there for hours and hear those two chatter on. He loved hearing their stories, no matter how big, or small, or horribly embellished they may have been.

After supper, he bundled the two up and drove them into town for ice cream. He made sure they took their time, knowing full well his brother and Lily would need at least an hour to finish whatever they’d started before he’d arrived.

Sure enough, the moment they stepped into the house—to which Cole made sure to make as much noise as possible—the two were still breathless, disheveled, and grinning like lunatics.

Cole shook his head at them. You two need help.

Lightly smacking his arm, Lily turned to the girls. Time to wash up and then bed.

Their groans filled the house as the three of them went through the motions of putting the girls to bed. Hair and teeth were brushed, pajamas were donned, and both crawled into Calla’s bed so Cole could read them a story.

Willa passed out first, her head on Cole’s abdomen, her tiny, four year old body twisted at an odd angle that couldn’t have been comfortable. Cole called for Sloan, doing his best not to be too loud. Sloan must have been in the bedroom across the hall; he appeared almost immediately and scooped Willa up into his arms. He carried her to her bed across the room and gently tucked her in. He smoothed her hair off her face and kissed her cheek before moving back to Calla’s bed.

Good night, love, he murmured, bending down and kissing her on the nose.

Calla wiggled deeper under her pink blankets. Night, Uncle. She turned sleepy eyes towards Cole. Night, Daddy.

Cole bent at the waist, slipped one arm around her and nuzzled the side of his daughter’s face. Love you, baby. Goodnight.

Sloan was gone when Cole slipped off the bed and moved to Willa’s bed. He kissed the side of her head, tucked the blankets more securely around her and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Lily and Sloan were in the living room, bathed solely by the warm, golden light of the lamp. The two were entwined in each other. Lily had her face tucked beneath Sloan’s chin as he moved them slowly to whatever music only the two of them could hear. He murmured something into the top of her head and she lifted her face to his. Her mouth moved, and even though Cole couldn’t hear the words, he knew what they were; love you, too.

Irritation that had nothing to do with them flared through him. His temper edged him towards the door, careful not to disturb them.

Cole. Lily’s voice caught him mid escape. Are you leaving?

Careful to keep his face impassive, Cole turned. Yeah, I have work to finish for tomorrow.

Such a lie, but they didn’t need to know that.

She broke away from his brother and moved towards him. Her arms lifted and anchored around his shoulders. She hugged him tight.

Love you.

He squeezed her back. You too.

He pulled away, gave Sloan a brief nod goodbye before turning on his heels and leaving the house.

Frigid night air greeted him, forcing him to zip up his coat all the way to his throat. His breath came out in a fan of white as he fished into his pockets for his keys. They jingled loudly in the silence. His hands shook as he wedged the key into the lock and threw himself into the crisp, cold leather. He grunted his displeasure as the chill seeped through his pants and froze his balls.

He had just turned onto the main road when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Shooting the numbers on his dashboard a glance, he frowned as he dug his phone out. With both eyes on the road, he hit talk and mashed the device against his ear.

Hello?

There was a moment of silence as though, by answering, he’d somehow surprised the other person. Then a soft, female voice filled his ears.

Mr. McClain?

Bemused, Cole nodded, even though the other person couldn’t see him. Yes?

There was another pause.

Cole McClain? the voice verified.

Yes. Who is this?

Something rustled in the background. It sounded like papers. Something else beeped noisily and a voice echoed through a loudspeaker. Cole recognized all those sounds from when his mother was in the hospital, just before she died. It was a sound that had haunted him for months before she died and even long after. It was the reason he never went to hospitals, why he couldn’t even watch a show with doctors. It was the sound of his own personal hell and it was filling all his senses.

Who is this? he asked again.

The woman returned after a full heartbeat. This is Vancouver General Hospital. We have a patient who was admitted earlier today. You are listed as her emergency contact.

His heart plummeted, falling like a chunk of ice into his writhing gut. Automatically, his mind reminded him that he just left Sloan and Lily. They were fine. The girls were fine. Nevertheless, his fingers tightened on the wheel.

Unable to think straight, let alone drive, Cole pulled onto the shoulder of the road, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. There was a strange metallic tang in his mouth and he couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

Who ... who is it?

Bethany Doan.

Chapter Two ~ Beth

The doctors promised that the pain would eventually fade. They weren’t so sure about the scars. The burns, they told her, were extensive and odds were that there would be minor scarring.

Beth didn’t know what that meant. About ninety percent of her arms were mummified, along with her legs and her sides. How could she possibly walk away from that with only minor scarring? At least the fire hadn’t touched her face and had only singed parts of her hair; she could feel the ends crackle where they flaked off onto the flat hospital pillow. Yet, the worst part of it all was her inability to eat her green jello, and, while she had no real love for the stuff, she was starving. The thin slivers of turkey, gravy, and mashed potatoes they’d given her nearly six hours earlier were long gone and had barely scratched the surface of her hunger, and they refused to bring her anything else. One sour-faced nurse had actually told her to wait until breakfast, which would have been fine if the wait period hadn’t been in the double digits.

Bastards, she mumbled to the dark, quiet room, eyeing the tiny plastic cup.

The single, florescent bulb above her head flickered over the smooth, glossy surface, giving the taunting substance an almost ethereal glow. A plastic spoon lay next to it, a sick mockery of her disability. Her bandages, while each finger was individually wrapped, went from shoulder to fingertips, making movement nearly impossible. Picking up a spoon seemed like an infinitely unmanageable task when moving her arms at all pierced her through with unimaginable pain. So she sat there, having a silent showdown with her food, wondering if she could somehow bring it to her mouth with the powers of her mind.

The hospital was quiet. It hummed with the familiar echo of machines, the buzz of lights dying, and the occasional cough from somewhere down the hall. She was too used to that sound, albeit, it was usually broken by the wail of new born babies, but all hospital floors were blessed with the same brand of near silence in the wee hours of the morning. Four AM, to be exact.

The morphine the doctor had prescribed against her will had run out hours ago. The nice nurse, before her shift had ended, had smiled kindly and told her to just ring the front if she needed more. But Beth hadn’t. She wouldn’t. While it had served its purpose while she was too helpless to stop them, she wouldn’t willingly inject herself with the stuff. She had seen what it did to people who became too dependent on their numbing relief. She wouldn’t let it add her name to its list of victims.

So she sat in the still night, having a face-off with a cup of jello while the pain screamed through her. The skin beneath the bandages throbbed with a heat that made her want to forever sit submerged in a tub of ice water. A very large part of her wanted to call the nurse down with bags of ice, or cooling pads like the ones they’d used when she’d first come in to dull some of the throbbing. But she didn’t. Not because she was too tough to let