Twist of Fate

Prologue

Easing the expensive Cadillac Escalade into a section of slightly dampened grass, he took a moment to collect himself. As if he were preparing for another performance, he sucked in deep breaths and slowly allowed them to pass through his slightly parted lips; a technique graciously given to him by Kevin when his constant running wore easily on the older man’s nerves. He had already missed the funeral and, judging by the way the crowd of mourners trudged toward their cars in small clusters, he assumed he had also missed the burial service. He hoped that she would understand. After all, it had been difficult enough just to maneuver a way to get back to his roots while in the process of recording a new album. Management had been less than enthused with his plans, but he would not be deterred. Not after she had been so devastated when she called, each word filled with painful tears as she pleaded for him to come. She had never asked him to sacrifice before, so he made certain that he could fulfill her needs. For once in a long history of friendship.

Adjusting the knot of the sapphire blue tie wrapped around his neck as if he were afraid of being strangled, he stepped out of the vehicle and proceeded through the murmurs of parting family members and friends. Occasional whispers could be heard about the manner in which he died and how the family was suffering. He tried not to let the gossip influence him, keeping his eyes fixed to the damp blades of grass. It was unusual, to say the least, being home in Florida. When he moved to California, he had sworn that he would never come back to touch these familiar grounds with his feet. All that the city had provided him was heartache. But, then, she had called and everything changed. The first girl he had ever shared a bath with as a toddler. The first girl he had taken a bath with as a toddler. The first girl he had ever given a cookie to as a preschooler. The first girl he had defended as a child. The first girl he had made love to as an adolescent. The first girl that had broken his heart as a man, though she had never known it to be so. But, when the mourners gave way to reveal her standing at the closed casket, he found a woman.

Grace Ann Lord… Well, Grace Ann Reynolds since her marriage to Dr. Logan Reynolds four years ago. He could still recall the exuberance in her voice when called him from her dormitory, explaining that she had met a senior destined for medical school. Since she was only seventeen, he figured it would just be a fling and a few weeks later she would call him heartbroken. So, he threw himself into some casual flings himself in hopes to reconcile with her when the time came, but he never did get that phone call.

Throwing himself forward in time, he was forced to recognize that she had loved her husband dearly. And, now, even in her time of desperation she was beautiful. Her long, golden ringlets were weaved into an intricate French braid, only a few fallen curls framing her heart shaped face. One curl fell over her right temple were a faded scar remained from one of their childish excursions as pirates on the seas. A touch of makeup was added to give her color, but he knew that she was hardly a fan of the feminine wiles. Far more comfortable in her own skin than painted illusions. Not that it mattered, because her creamy peach skin was soft as silk underneath his touch. Her eyes were shut, the long lashes covering what he knew to be the most gorgeous pair of emerald eyes he had ever seen. A simple black dress clung to her figure that looked to belong to a teenager, though evidence of her maturity clung to her hand as the other rested against the curve of her hip.

The infamous rugrats. His godchildren to be exact. How they had grown in such a short time since he had last seen them. Photographs and phone calls couldn’t possibly make up for the development he saw now. The eldest boy was four years old now. His usually unruly strawberry blonde curls were swept back from his forehead in a formal fashion, fixed with gel, and not a speck of dirt could be seen on his cherubic face or pressed navy suit. His large, light green eyes looked curiously at the flowers strewn on his father’s casket as he clutched tight to his mother’s hand, finally turning to bury his face within the skirt of her dress. His free hand was tucked into a sling, wrapped in a thick blue plaster cast from the accident. He was quiet. Highly uncommon for the mischievous youngster. And the youngest, a gorgeous little girl made in the image of her mother, rested tiredly against her shoulder. Only a year old, her chubby hand clutched at the neckline of her mother’s dress, bunching it into wrinkles while popping her other thumb into her mouth for a soothing suck. Her platinum curls were growing faster than he had expected, already past her dainty ears, which were. Her doe-like, jade eyes drooped with exhaustion as she turned her face to bury into her mother’s neck.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Sweetheart,” he whispered regretfully, finally stepping beside her and folding his hands in front of him as a sign of respect for the departed. He never would have called the man laying at peace in the bronze casket a friend, but he knew better than to speak ill of him. After all, the man had won her heart fair and square, not that he had ever fought him for the right. He had naturally assumed that she would never leave. Yet, when he met her after her glorified graduation, the man three years her senior holding tight to her hand with a fake, welcoming smile, making a point to gesture toward the glittering ring upon her left hand. The claim of territory officially established and his heart literally broken.

“But you’re here, Nicky, that’s what matters,” she finally whispered, turning into the man who stood beside her, nuzzling his chest as a sob clutched at her throat. Feeling his arms wrap about her in a soothing manner, the tears fell. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

Chapter 1

“That’s quite an impressive Mater that you’re coloring, Benji,” Nick encouraged softly, pulling away from the brilliant world of his own Disney’s Cars coloring book to observe the youngster’s creative works. Of course, Benjamin said nothing to acknowledge Nick’s presence. Instead, he continued to use his blue cast as a paperweight and scribble on the old beat-up truck with a dark brown crayon. Circles swirled about the paper with no collective reasoning nor attempt to stay within the lines; no words parting from his pursed lips. In fact, since arriving Grace’s home for the funeral reception, Benjamin had said not a word. Instead, he had clutched to his mother’s side and became increasingly fussy when others attempted to pull him away. Nick, already entirely uncomfortable being around the mourners that encompassed his friend in a shroud of belittling sympathies, decided it was no trouble to scoop the child into his arms. Benjamin fought briefly, but his younger sister seemed to soothe his potential hysteria as Nick carried them into the playroom. After all, the deceased was not his friend. He was here for the widow. So, gathering coloring books he had remembered he bought for some miscellaneous holidays, he had hoped to entertain them till the crowds of family and friends parted.

“’Icky,” the toddler, Isabella, suddenly grunted, pulling Nick’s attention away from the pained Benjamin in a moment’s notice. Glancing away from Benjamin, he smiled toward the one-year-old girl standing at his feet, chewing on one of the large plastic blocks from a massive kit he had bought them recently. She had been constructing a tower, but by the looks of the stuffed animals seated atop the pile of blocks, he assumed destruction had been her ulterior motive. Her large emerald eyes looked hopefully to him before outstretching her hands.

Grinning, Nick leaned forward to help the little girl into his lap. “At least you’re talking to me, huh, Izzy?”

“’Ove, ‘Icky,” Isabella cooed in appreciation, offering him the block she had been chewing on.

“Well, thank you very much, Sweetness,” Nick retorted, taking the block before leaning forward to press a kiss to her face. Smoothing away the platinum curls that had fallen over her forehead, he smiled appreciatively when she leaned against him to smack a wet kiss to his nose. The photographs that he received in emails from Grace had not done justice to her daughter’s beauty. Nor had they been able to capture the wide-eyed attentiveness and impish curiosity that radiated from Isabella’s firming personality. “You’ve gotten so big, Izzy. Last time I held you, I know you fit perfectly into the crook of my one arm, but I doubt I’d be able to do that with you now. And, Ben--”

Looking down, Nick sighed when he noticed the preschooler take his crayons and coloring book to the opposite table. Throwing them upon the surface, he then slumped into one of the chunky, blue plastic chairs to continue his work, but not before offering Nick quite the sour glare. It was heartbreaking to say the least, having Benjamin act as if he were infected with the worst possible case of plague. Especially when months before, Benjamin had been attempting to crawl into Nick’s luggage as a stowaway when he prepared for the Never Gone Tour.

“Don’t take it too personally, Nicky. He hasn’t talked since…” Grace’s intrusion trailed to the inevitable conclusion as she stood at the threshold of the playroom. Her arms were wrapped protectively around her body as she crossed her bare legs and leaned against the frame of the door. Her entire body ached with exhaustion as if she hadn’t slept for years. Every person’s sympathies were no doubt appreciated, but ineffective at this point. The last of her friends and family had left with promises of returning soon; not that she had asked them to do so. If anything, she just wanted to be left alone with her children, Nick, and the hopes of not being asked to dredge up painful memories.

“He won’t even talk to you?” Nick questioned in surprise, watching Benjamin lurch up from the table to hurry toward Grace. Smiling softly when she bent down to receive the boy and heft him to her hip, he gestured there was room on the couch for them. There was no use in denying that Benjamin was a Momma’s Boy; he had been so since the day he was born. Though, Nick teased Grace it was because she opted to breastfeed and any man would be grateful to suckle at her breast. The bruise from her punch lasted about two weeks.

“Guess he doesn’t have much to say right now,” Grace murmured, running her fingers through Benjamin’s slicked curls while settling onto the couch. Tucking her bare feet beneath her, she shifted Benjamin into her lap, helping to curl her arms around him quite protectively. The boy said nothing as he burrowed deep into her embrace and rested his cast upon her thigh. “Right now, I don’t think any of us have much of anything to say right now… Do you know how useless idle chatter is at this point in my life? Not that I’m saying--”

“C’mere, Gracie,” Nick interrupted gently before she could begin her usual habit of rambling because of her discomfort. Reaching for her hand, he tugged her till she fit perfectly against his side. Then, keeping an arm around her shoulders, he helped Isabella cuddle between them before burying his face in the softness of Grace’s golden curls. She had gotten a quick shower it seemed, wanting to gather herself before assuming her stoic place. Dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a simple t-shirt, Nick couldn’t imagine her looking any better. Her hair damp and her skin soft from the lotion she always applied, she smelled of sweet vanilla; a familiarity Nick loved. And, before he could help himself, he murmured softly, “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too, Nicky.” Touched by his confession, Grace brushed her fingers delicately down his chest, thankful that he had come to her aid. She supposed she had sounded quite desperate on the phone, begging for him to put aside his daily tasks to fly home, but it didn’t matter. He was here now. All the pain that had been built underneath their relationship vanished, because he had finally come back. So, curling her fingers in his white undershirt, she relished in his closeness. Typical of Nick, he had done everything in his power to dress down when returning to the house. His black jacket had been shed. His tie unknotted and tucked into a pocket. His dress shirt unbuttoned. “Thanks for taking care of the kids.”

“Not a problem. I love the kids and I’d do anything for you, Gracie,” Nick promised truthfully, knowing there was no place in the world that he’d rather be than at her side. It might have been selfish, knowing that he was the only remaining man in her life that had any significance and had no remaining threat to that position, but he couldn’t deny the feelings. Logan had stolen Grace from him and there was still resentment toward the deceased because of that. It would be something that Nick had to come to peace with eventually, but not now.

“I appreciate that so much, Nicky. You have no idea,” Grace murmured, glancing down to see her children had both collapsed against her in an exhausted sleep. One of the wires of tension that had strapped over her heart seemed to break at seeing their peaceful expressions. Sleep had been a rarity in the house since Logan’s death; even the children, despite their young ages, recognized the loss that had occurred. Each day Isabella would still wander about the house in search of her father for her morning coffee break, though she would have a cup of milk to dunk a donut in and more milk and mashed donut would end up on the floor than in her mouth. And Benjamin would simply sit in his father’s private office, just staring at the empty leather chair, void of emotion. Grace would give anything to take the pain away from her children, but knew it was impossible.

“I know…” Nick trailed, gently playing with Isabella’s curls while he watched Grace. “I figured I’d stay for at least a week or so? I’ll do anything you need me to do. Fix dinner. Watch the kids. Do laundry. Snuggle you. Clean, even.”

Snorting with a small smile, Grace arched her golden brows with great skepticism. “Nick Carter? Clean?”

Grunting, Nick offered a rueful smirk. “I said I’d do anything for you, Gracie.”

“But what about all the recording and planning for the new album?” Grace suddenly inquired with a concerned expression crossing her beautiful face. She had always been mindful of Nick’s career, appreciating his talent in ways that he would never understand. She had made a point to always visit him during any vacations, several that actually had her flying across seas to be with him during tour. She had even established friendships with his band-mates, though she always teased Nick that she’d like to establish something deeper with AJ McLean. Of course, that was just to see the way Nick’s nostrils flared, a crease form in his brow, and his sapphire eyes turn into a potentially deadly storm. Just adorable. “Are the guys pissed at me?”

“God no. They’re all worried about you. Hell, I had to put a foot down to keep them all from flying out. Told them that even though you have a fucking mansion that we wouldn’t all fit in the guest bedrooms. Of course, Aje then suggested that he’d sleep with you--”

Grace laughed softly, leaning to rest her head on Nick’s shoulder, comforted at the perfect way his body accustomed hers. “How are they?”

“Like I said, they’re all worried about you, but they’re good. Brian is a married old crow and whipped more than a Dominatrix’s favorite boy-toy. But he just celebrated his fifth wedding anniversary with Victoria, who is getting ready to write another book. Then their son, Baylee, turned four this past November, so he’s just a bundle of…”

“Boy?” Grace guessed, subconsciously brushing her fingers down Benjamin’s cheek. Baylee and Benjamin were the same age and Baylee was not much older. Their birthdays were separated by a few days, Baylee being born on November twenty-sixth and Benjamin being born on December seventh. In the best of circumstances, they should have been best friends, but they had been babies when they met. And, afterwards, life became complicated once more and Grace had been separated from her friends.

“He is exactly like Brian in every sense.”

“And probably fifty percent of your personality rubbed off on him in the process, too.”

“Probably.”

“But, they’re doing well?”

“A sickeningly happy and perfect little family.”

“Good. Now, the rest?”

“Howie’s good and doing business as usual. Kevin decided not to come back for the next album because he wants to concentrate on his family, mostly because his mother’s been riding him for a grandchild, though he’s too much of a man to admit that. And, Aje, he had his birthday last week and--”

“I forgot to call him!” Grace groaned, rubbing her face against his shoulder in dismay.

“Such a tragedy,” Nick murmured, unable to hide the pleased smirk creeping to his face. He had always regretted introducing Grace to AJ, especially when the older man’s first comment was offering her a chance of scoring with a potential pop-star. He had just been thankful that she said she already met that goal while pinching Nick’s backside. But that never stopped AJ from trying. Not even her marriage.

“He must think I’m--”

“You had an excuse, Gracie.”

“And you’re just enjoying this too much.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Nicky…”

“You can always call him later.”

“I suppose…” Grace trailed, shifting carefully to snuggle closer to the warmth of Nick’s body. Her husband had died last week and every day she had mourned the loss. Tears came randomly just like the memories of a beautiful marriage. Now, sitting with Nick, she was comforted that he hadn’t bothered her with questions about her time. She just wanted to gather her bearings before she told him what had happened. The pain was too fresh from the funeral and just to hear that the others were doing well pacified her. “I will call him later, but I need to know about you.”

Nick tensed for a moment, wondering if she would bring them back into the same familiar dance of arguments that had always kept them from being lovers. Neither of them had ever denied the love they had for one another, but the obstacles in their way proved to be too difficult. He was constantly running all over the world, leaving Grace behind to ache in loneliness without him until she found a way to rise above the fame. To get her own life. To marry another man and have children with him. Children that Nick always hoped would be his. “…What?”

“How are you?”

“Gracie…” Nick sighed, leaning close to press a soft kiss to her temple. “What are you worrying about me for?”

“Because I haven’t seen you in over a year—And don’t even make that face, because phone calls, emails, presents, and letters just aren’t the same.”

Groaning, Nick affectionately rubbed his nose against the side of her face. He couldn’t imagine any other woman who had just lost her lover of almost seven years to be concerned about the welfare of others. It was a quality unique to Grace’s personality that Nick admired. “You’re right, but I’m fine, Sweetness.”

“You always say that…”

“Okay, so I’m better now that I finished filming House of Carters with the kids and shit-machines they call pets.”

“Everyone thinks that you guys act outrageous just for the cameras, if they could have only seen the brood when you were little. You always trying to give Aaron away. Aaron always trying to outdo you. Angel rushing around doing fashion shows. BJ getting into trouble. Leslie stuck in the middle. I always missed having Leslie tag along with us…”

“She misses you, too, and Aaron sure does miss watching you change through the window at night--”

“And how would you know?!”

“Fuck, I gave him the ladder and twenty bucks for copies of his pictures.”

“Nickolas Gene Carter,” Grace laughed with disbelief, lightly pinching his shoulder. “You’ll never change…”

“Neither will you. You’re still the same girl that stole my heart when we were in diapers.”

“But are there any new girlfriends that I need to scrutinize?”

“Nah,” Nick chuckled with a soft smile. “No woman is even close to meeting those high standards of love that you set when we were teenagers.”

*~*~*

Opening the door that separated the master bathroom from the master bedroom, Grace had to fumble momentarily to locate the light switch, surprised that the room was encased in darkness. Night had quickly approached since she snuck into the bath for privacy. She hadn’t expected that she’d take that long of a soak, but the opportunity had presented itself when the children were tucked into their beds for naps and Nick confessed that he was exhausted from jetlag. Since Logan had passed away, she couldn’t even manage to think of a single occasion where she had been alone. Now that she was the sole caregiver of her children, they demanded her attention more so than before. Then Logan’s parents, especially his mother, sought solace in her. Then came the friends and coworkers. Just the thought of the next wave of the mourners caused a familiar exhaustion to settle over her already weary soul. Not that she didn’t appreciate the love and support, but she feared she couldn’t possibly offer the comfort that the others hunted her for. She was supposed to be the mourning widow, not the soother.

Wrapping the thick terry towel about her body, she moved into the bedroom and went about the familiar motions of preparing for bed. Tossing the towel about her golden locks to the nearby chair, she allowed her curls to fall loosely past her shoulders while she retrieved her favorite bottle of vanilla scented body lotion. Working the lotion into her arms and then legs, she walked over to the dresser to pull out a shirt for the night. But when the familiar spiced scent of Logan’s cologne swept over her, she stopped. Looking down, she realized that she had taken one of Logan’s t-shirts to wear as she always did. Feeling the impending sob form a tight ball in the back of her throat, she stuffed the worn t-shirt back into the dresser and wrenched out a camisole and shorts. Clutching the garments to her chest, she collapsed onto the large, plush bed and felt the tears start to swarm.

No one ever told her how hard it would be to face the constant reminders of her love after his death, not that anyone had ever prepared her for the chance that he might die. It just didn’t seem fair. Logan had been a great man and a dedicated pediatrician. He loved children and did everything in his power to provide them with the best care, which might have made him an eel in the eyes of other local physicians, but a hero to nurses, parents, and children. And as fabulous as he was as a pediatrician, he was even more astounding as a father. She still remembered the day he asked if they could have children. The sparkle in his eyes and the hopeful expression on his face had been undeniable, which had only seemed to magnify with each child’s birth. And a husband. How he had been an extraordinary husband. God she missed him.

“Logan, I miss you so much…” she whispered painfully, reaching for the familiar photograph on her nightstand. It was her favorite image of her husband when they had gone on their honeymoon to Puerto Rico. They had been taking a walk on the beach and he tripped, causing them both to crash upon the shores, her on top of him. Looking down at his embarrassed face and adoring smile, she couldn’t resist stealing the moment forever. Blinking rapidly, she stifled a sniffle while her fingers brushed over the face she had adored for so long. The dark almond eyes that always found her even in the most crowded of hallways. The thick light brown locks that she always played with in the afterglow of making love. The smile that always caused her to do the same even when it was at its smallest hinting. The heart that loved her no matter how many buttons she pushed to elicit a terrible fight, which always ended in some kind of snorted laughter. “Damnit, how can I live without you?”

When no answer came from any source, Grace pushed the photograph away and began to cry openly. She had been so numb since the funeral, afraid that she had no more tears within her body that could possible slip out. But, overcome with grief, the tears never seemed to cease. Instead, her body shook with the power of her loss. Her breathing ragged as she wrapped her arms about herself, void of the comfort that Logan’s arms would never be able to bring again. How she wished she could have been the one in the vehicle instead—

“Mommy?”

“Benji,” Grace stifled in surprise, torn away from her grief with the timid call from her eldest. Looking up, she sucked in a deep breath to hold the sobs at the sight of her son standing in the shadowed doorway. Tucked behind the cast braced against his chest was a stuffed Mater from Disney’s Cars – the last birthday gift from his father. His blonde curls were wild from sleep and his reddened and weary with exhaustion. Furiously rubbing her face, Grace ushered her son into the room, opening her arms. “What are you doing up, Sweetheart?”

“Can’t sleep,” Benjamin stated simply, carefully shuffling forward into the room before climbing onto the bed. When he came close enough, his mother hurriedly wrapped him into her arms and leaned back against the headboard. Resting his head on her shoulder, he regarded Grace with a soft sigh. “Mommy, are you crying?”

“Yeah…” Grace trailed softly, not wanting to lie to the boy. Years of studying the science of nursing and a focus in pediatrics had afforded her the skills to help the grieving child, though she hoped she’d never have to help her children grieve. Sighing, she gently pulled back the locks from Benjamin’s forehead to assess the healing wound on his right temple. The stitches had been removed before the funeral much to the boy’s relief, who constantly complained of being itchy. “I’m pretty sad right now, Benji.”

“’Cause of Daddy?”

“Yes, I miss him very much.”

“Can he come home soon?”

“Oh, Benji… Remember what we talked about today? How Daddy went to Heaven?”

Benjamin offered a meek nod. “An’ he can’t come home.”

“But he’ll watching us every day.”

“From Heaven?”

“From Heaven.”

“…Mommy?”

“Yeah, Sweetheart?”

“Is him’s still got owies in Heaven?”

“Oh, Baby…” Grace whispered painfully at the innocence of Benjamin’s question, now realizing why the preschooler couldn’t sleep. Curling her arms quite protectively around Benjamin, she stifled another soft sniffle as tears started to fall. Benjamin had been in the accident that had killed his father. He had been so excited that day when Logan told him they would go shopping for Grace’s birthday. Benjamin had been working hard on chores to earn money for the shopping trip and his father had promised him freedom to buy whatever he thought Grace would love most. Then, on their way to dinner with Grace and Isabella, a car filled with delinquent teenagers blew past a red light and plowed into the side of the vehicle. Trapped in the mangled mess, Benjamin had been witness to his father’s painful death. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the psychological damage that her child had suffered that day on top of the injuries from the accident. And, of course, the teenagers walked away with little to no injuries. “No, Baby, no. Daddy doesn’t hurt anymore. You can’t hurt in Heaven. No more owies for Daddy.”

Nodding slightly, Benjamin was diligent in clearing the tears away from his mother’s face, hating that she was crying. When he was sure they were all gone, he leaned up to press soft, feathery kisses to her face. “Nicky still here?”

“Yes, he’s going to spend a few days with us. He said he missed us bunches and he can’t wait to play with you.”

Benjamin offered his mother a skeptical glance. “And then? He no be here like Daddy?”

“No, Nicky’s not going to leave like Daddy.”

“You no leave?”

“No, I’ll never leave you,” Grace promised soothingly, understanding why Benjamin had been so distant with Nick earlier that day. Young children thrived on stability of their relationships and the loss of his father had been detrimental, shattering any type of security the boy had felt. Now, he feared that others in his life would disappear as well. And, since Nick usually did come and go and was like another father, Benjamin prepared himself for the inevitable loss by already severing ties with him. “I would never dream of leaving you, Benji, and neither did Daddy. We love you and your sister so much… Sometimes bad things just happen.”

“…Mommy, c’I sleep with you?” Benjamin asked, obviously tired with the conversation as he reached for the covers of the bed.

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Grace agreed, not having the strength nor the confidence to push them into a conversation she herself couldn’t enter just yet.

Chapter 2

Leaning against the center island counter of Grace’s kitchen, Nick intensely studied the newly bought pack of cigarettes in his hands. He had impulsive picked up the pack from one of various stores near the airport, knowing it was his only way of coping with the crisis. His body truly craved the nicotine laced within the paper tube of chemical products and the Lord knew he deserved the calming effects in such a stressful situation, but he resisted in opening up the package. He knew how much Grace loathed the filthy habit and worried about his safety as well as her children’s safety in his presence. As a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner, she understood the hazards of smoking and reminded him daily. He could even recall a few graphic photographs of black lungs sent in emails. She had also suggested early that morning that he do his best not to smoke around the children, fearful of the dangerous effects second hand smoke could have on their lungs. If it were anyone else who had asked him to change, he would have told him or her to simply fuck off. But, Grace was different. So, with a whine of displeasure, he buried the pack of cigarettes deep into the trash before moving into the living room to make a phone call. He’d pick up some Nicotine patches and gum later.

Usually, when he visited the Reynolds’s residence, he was overcome by the chaos of the experience. The entire family had been charismatic and fun loving. If someone wasn’t howling with laughter, then the day had been a complete disaster. If Benjamin had been running around in just a pair of underwear, Grace would soon come chasing after him in her own underwear. If Logan and Benjamin were swimming, they would do their best to coax Grace into the pool before Logan would launch out to grab her amidst peels of laughter. If Isabella were screaming in pain from cutting teeth, then the whole family would surround her with adoration, coos, and playful tickles till she smiled. They had been so uninhibited, but the death had sobered the joy of the house.

A cold silence filled the rooms with a suppressing quality that made him apprehensive, especially when he was the only one home at the moment. Grace had taken the children out for a few hours, wanting some private time with them, which Nick understood. He just couldn’t stand the thought of being alone in another man’s house, especially a deceased man who had always been competition. Every room had his memory, reminding Nick of what could never be with Grace, which chilled him to his very bones. So, dialing a familiar number, he slumped on the couch and waited for a response.

“BAYLEE THOMAS WYLEE LITTRELL! YOU ARE NOT A COWBOY! AND IF YOU TRY TO ROPE TYKE AS YOUR BABY COW ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR THE WRATH OF GOD ON YOUR FATHER! IT’S THE LAST TIME I LET YOU TWO WATCH CITYSLICKERS—Hello?”

“Boy, did I just have a flashback of Bay’s terrible twos!” Nick whistled suddenly, relieved to find that things weren’t so depressing everywhere in the world. As a matter of fact, it seemed to be quite opposite at the Littrell household when he heard Baylee’s defiant whine followed by the family dog Tyke’s yelp. Victoria Littrell, Brian’s beloved wife and Baylee’s adored mother, seemed at her wits end with the rambunctious household. “Tori?”

“BRIAN! TAKE CARE OF YOUR SON RIGHT NOW! …Y’know, handling Scooper’s temper wasn’t that bad. It was only when Scooter started pouting on top of Scooper’s temper when I told them both no that had me reeling. Those two will be the death of me,” Victoria answered easily, though she immediately laughed at the memory. She never stayed furious with her men for long, jokingly deciding that she would only wait long enough for the first piece of expensive jewelry. “But, Nick, I’m so happy to hear from you.”

“It’s good to hear your voice, too, Tori,” Nick promised, leaning back on the couch to rest, soothed by the caring quality in her voice. She wasn’t like the previous women that Brian had dated, who loathed the unique bond that had formed between them during the years. Instead, she embraced the very quality that made the friendship special and enhanced it in ways that Nick couldn’t even begin to identify. In fact, she had been the one to first suggest that Nick be the best man at the couple’s wedding, before Brian could even think of how to phrase his want exactly. She anticipated the needs of the friends and did her best to facilitate the strengthening of the bond. She treated him as if he were a little brother and had made sure that Baylee thought of Nick was an older brother or uncle of sorts. Without her as a friend and attentive “sister-in-law,” he knew that he might have been doomed many years ago.

“How is everything?”

“Okay as it can be, I guess.”

“How’s Grace?”

“I…I don’t really know… We haven’t talked about anything really. I got here the other day and the jetlag was fucking horrible, so I crashed early. Then, this morning the kids were around and asked her to take them out for a bit. So…” Nick shrugged helplessly though Victoria wasn’t aware. He just wasn’t sure about anything anymore. He wanted to tell Victoria about the surge of powerful emotions that had overcome him the second he saw Grace, but couldn’t form the proper sentences. Right now, he just wanted to hear a familiar voice until she returned.

“Nick…” Victoria trailed in a soft understanding. “You want to talk to Scooter for a bit?”

“Yeah, I guess I could really use the old B-Rok-Bitch-Bash for my cursing,” Nick agreed with an amused smile, listening to the shuffling on the opposite end of the line, knowing Victoria was on the hunt in the warm California home. “…I’ll never understand why you call him that.”

“Because you never saw him burn his backside on the fire he had been dying to make when he proposed on our camping trip.”

“True… Think if I set some hot pizza on his favorite chair I could recreate it?”

“We’ll have to try it when you get home, Sweetheart, but right now you talk to your beloved big brother, okay? I love you.”

“Love you, too, Tori…” Nick called, overhearing the smack of lips when Victoria kissed Brian goodbye. Then, Brian offered his familiar greeting and Nick knew he was grinning like a fool. “Have I mentioned how much I love your wife?”

“Every day,” Brian promised with a small chuckle. “And she says she loves you, too.”

“I needed that.”

“So, should I just put her back on the phone? ‘Cause it’s obvious you didn’t need me to say I love you--”

“B, don’t get jealous of your wife again,” Nick groaned. “Because, you know that if it came down to blows and I had to pick between you and her--”

“You’d pack my bags and move right in.”

“Exactly!”

“I’m glad that I’ve come to terms with the fact that you love my wife more than you love me.”

“Me, too…”

“So, how’s it going?” Brian questioned after a moment of silence had evaded them. “And don’t tell me things are fine, because I know you were absolutely hysterical about going back there.”

Nick sighed heavily as he buried his face within his hands, using the crook of his shoulder to pin the phone to his ear. “It’s just so many memories, B… At first, when she called I thought she was going to tell me she was pregnant again. And then I was just going to end our entire friendship. Knowing she was so fucking happy with Logan and I was miserable… I was just so pissed… Then she tells me that Logan’s dead and my first thought was – Good riddance. I mean… What kind of person thinks that?”

“Nick--”

“I didn’t hate Logan, I mean… Well… Okay, I did hate him. He got Grace and he knew the whole fucking time how much I loved her. But then he was so fucking noble at their wedding, pulling me aside to tell me that he knew I had a special place in Grace’s heart and he could never take that away, so he hoped I would continue to visit. Had made sure that Grace called during every one of her pregnancy appointments with the kids. Then he dies and I’m hoping to take his place in bed. I feel so fucking guilty...”

“You’ve known and loved Grace for how long, Nick?”

“Since before I can remember…”

“So, don’t beat yourself up for thinking those things… I mean… You can’t control it… I think you should just concentrate on Grace for now. Make sure she’s taken care of. Put all your energy into helping her and you won’t be kicking yourself.”

“But I don’t know what to say…”

“Then tell her that.”

“Since you have all the answers, why don’t you come here and handle this?”

“Because you’re the one she wants at her side right now, Nick. She called you.”

“God, the last time I visited her was when Isabella was born and that was over a year ago. I’ve missed out on an entire year of her life because I was so jealous and hurt. I missed her every day. Every damn day.”

“She missed you, too.”

“I hope.”

“I know.”

Groaning when the doorbell chimed, Nick climbed begrudgingly off the couch and slowly shuffled toward the door. He could just imagine what friend would be arriving with another heaping platter of food for the family to nurse their aches upon. The entire fridge was already filled with casseroles, he didn’t know where he’d put the next one. “B, you know I didn’t call just to get a pep-talk, right?”

“I know, you missed me.”

“And I love you, bro.”

“Finally he says it!”

“You’re such a self-righteous prick, just hold on a second,” Nick chuckled, opening the front door as he pressed the cellular phone to his shoulder. Though, the lightness of his mood seemed to erode when he faced the familiar older woman on the porch. She was dressed with expensive impeccably, like the wife of a chief surgeon was supposed to look. Her raven locks twisted into a tight bun; make-up hiding the age of her face, though the lines from a frown seemed emphasized. She looked none too pleased to see him and Nick realized that the feeling was quite mutual. “Hello, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Mr. Carter…” Samantha Reynolds, Grace’s mother in law, replied in a cool kindness that sent a shiver ripping through Nick’s body. Her dark gray eyes seemed to burn through him when he stepped aside to grant her entrance. A muffled grunt of annoyance could be heard in her throat as she entered and glanced casually about the residence. “I missed seeing you at the funeral.”

“I had some trouble getting time off and catching a flight--”

“How is the business?”

“Fine…” Nick trailed, resisting the urge to scowl with disgust at the way she regarded his career. She acted as if he were some kind of louse who fed off the lives of hardworking individuals and was an imbecile because there was no letters behind his name marking his superior intellect. Since the beginning of Grace’s relationship with Logan, Mrs. Reynolds made sure to emphasize her distaste in her daughter-in-law’s best friend. And, he was almost positive that she did nothing to hide her feelings for him in Grace’s presence. “And, I’d just like to say how sorry I am for--”

“Where are my daughter-in-law and my grandchildren?”

“Gracie took them out--”

“How long will you be staying in my son’s home exactly, Mr. Carter?”

Biting down hard on his inner cheek to keep from spilling out a long list of expletives, he was assured that he could taste blood as he forced civility. “Long enough to make sure Grace and the kids are okay.”

“I’m sure you’ll be gone in a week.”

Growling, Nick clenched the doorknob with a thought of slamming the door against the crow’s face. “Listen here, you fu--”

“Would you let Grace know that I stopped by? We need to meet with the lawyers to go over the legalities of… Oh, look who I’m talking to, never mind, I’ll just give Grace a call later to let her know,” Mrs. Reynolds decided with a flit of her hand, exiting the house as quickly as she had approached. “It was nice to see you again, Mr. Carter.”

“I’m sure,” Nick gritted, vaguely aware of Brian’s voice chirping worriedly within his ear as he wallowed in a prideful hurt.

*~*~*

Hearing the soft snores emanating from her current pillow, Isabella tore her gaze away from the rolling credits of her favorite Disney movie to see Nick slumbering peacefully. He had been the one to scoop her up to watch a movie, insisting that he adored Ariel just as much as she. Yet, he had been asleep before Flounder was almost chomped by the shark. Wrinkling her nose at the rush of wind that blew into her face from Nick’s parted lips, she reached her small hands up in attempts to cover the wind tunnel. Giggling at the overwhelming ticklish sensation of his warm breath, she squirmed beneath the Princess throw and tumbled to the floor. Unfazed, she crawled for the coffee table and pulled herself up. Admiring the array of technical equipment, she seized a familiar remote and slapped her hands over the buttons until her mother’s stereo system came to life.

“JESUS CHRIST!” Nick howled in shock when the wholesome twang of country exploded about him like a gunshot of sound. Tumbling from the couch in a knot of blankets, he grunted in shock when his forehead connected with the coffee table. Struggling to stand as he fought the swarm of blankets, he howled in horror, “GRACE! CRAZY HICKS ARE INVADING THE FUCKING HOUSE!”

Hurrying from the playroom at the sound of the commotion in the living room, Grace was amazed to find Nick continuing to fight the blankets as if they were attackers as Isabella stood in awe at the limber movements of her Godfather. Ducking from getting caught in Nick’s imaginary fight, she reached her daughter who cooed a hello. Taking the remote from Isabella’s hands, she turned the volume of Trace Adkin’s sultry voice down and snorted with disbelief when the blankets fell from Nick leaving him free. “For goodness sakes, Nick! Crazy hicks invading the house?”

“With pitchforks and wads of tobacco stuffed in their mouths for machine-gun-style ammunition!” Nick defended, seemingly turning crimson with embarrassment though he continued to defend his position. “Who the fuck is that anyway?”

“Trace Adkins,” Grace groaned, watching Isabella squirm in attempts to reach the remote, knowing exactly what she wanted. “A famous country artist?”

“Since when do you listen to country music?!”

“Since I went to college at Duke University and the only bars in town were honky-tonk bars,” Grace defended, grinning when Isabella’s jade eyes electrified at the word ‘honky-tonk.’ Nodding to her daughter, she set the remote on top of her large stereo system and manually turned the CD to her daughter’s favorite song. “And don’t even make that kind of face, Nick.”

“But what happened to my Rock-Star?”

“I still love Meatloaf and Journey and 3 Doors Down--”

“But--”

“My tastes have been altered slightly and your damn lucky that I can otherwise your singing style would have been doomed by me a long time ago, Carter.”

Flabbergasted, Nick looked to his goddaughter who gleefully clapped her hands at the introduction of the song, falling onto the couch. Staring in disbelief when she spun in a circle with a squeal of delight, he sighed heavily, “You turned my Rock-Star Baby into a Bumpkin Baby…”

“Damn straight,” Grace laughed, scooping up her daughter when she lifted her arms. Swaying her hips to the beat of the song, she blew a kiss to Nick. “And you can’t fight the country fever, Son.”

“Do you know how damn long it took to break Brian of that southern twang?” Nick whined, reluctantly pulling himself from the couch when Grace beckoned him. Stepping forward, he took the hand she offered and swayed cautiously to the beat.

“You can’t take the country out of the boy no matter how much you try, Baby,” Grace disagreed when Nick brought a hand to her waist to keep her close. Smiling, she rolled her hips as she moved to the floor, though she never expected Isabella to squirm out of her brace. Pausing slightly near the floor, she watched Isabella dance off and Nick reached for her hands to bring her back up. Smiling nervously at their sudden closeness, she realized that her feelings for him had never really faded since she had married Logan. That, deep inside, she had always harbored a secret love for Nick that transpired beyond friendship. But, never anticipating to act upon the emotions, she rested her hands on his shoulders. “Are you going to dance with me?”

“Just trying to see if you have that fire like back in the day,” Nick agreed, pressing a kiss to the tip of her nose before pushing her away. Then, grasping her hand, he twirled her back into his arms, surprised at how easily she moved and tucked against him. But, when she rocked her hips against his pelvis to the torrid beats, he wasn’t surprised at the heat she stirred in his loins. “Damn.”

“I know, I got moves,” Grace rivaled with a winsome smile, although she wasn’t naïve. She knew what the wheeze of breath that seemed to collapse Nick’s lungs had been about. She had felt the telltale hardness grow against her backside. So, stepping away from him to alleviate the pressure, she kept their hands linked and kept it light while she sang, “We don’t care about the drinking / Barely listen to the band / Our hands they start to shakin’ when she gets the urge to dance / Driving everybody crazy / You think you fell in love / Boys, you better keep your distance / You can look but you can’t touch / That Honky-Tonk Badonkadonk…”

“You got that right,” Nick breathed, jerking in surprise when he felt a hard fist to his kneecap. Looking down, he noticed Isabella attempting to dance on his feet with a frustrated look that caused her bottom lip to pucker. Crooning at her adorable nature, he ruffled her platinum curls. “Izzy, what’s wrong?”

“Me!” Isabella demanded, looking to her mother with a scowl.

“Woah! Sorry!” Grace whistled, holding her hands up in innocence and stepping away. “Didn’t mean to hustle in on the dance!”

“Damn straight,” Nick chuckled, leaning down to scoop Isabella into his arms. Layering her face with sweet kisses, he grinned in sudden triumph. “Izzy, I say we get her back.”

“Mama?” Isabella questioned.

“Oh yeah…” Nick enthused, smacking a loud kiss to her cheek before setting her on the ground. Signaling for her to wait a moment, he hurried over to Grace with a renewed energy. Scooping her into his arms, he was oblivious to her screech of defiance as he playfully threw her to the ground. Then, covering her small frame with his, he pinned her and waved erratically at the toddler. “Izzy! Attack!”

“Mama!” Isabella squealed, toddling over to fall onto her mother’s chest, attacking her with the loudest and wettest raspberries.

“Isabella Elizabeth! You heathen!” Grace squealed with laughter, arching her back off the ground to raise them all before collapsing in a fit of giggles.

“I got the other side, Izzy!” Nick promised, leaning to the opposite side of Grace’s face to smother her cheek with raspberries.

“Nicky!” Grace groaned in disbelief.

“All is fair in love and war!” Nick quoted, starting to tickle her as she squirmed and squealed while making sure that Isabella was firmly planted on her mother’s chest as a weight. Chuckling at the hysteria of giggles he was creating, he looked off to his side to find Benjamin had appeared at the couch. He was watching in confusion at the laughter, but a small smile played at his lips. Noticing the smile and without thought, Nick hauled him into the pile so he had the chance to participate in the festivities. Reaching for his small body to attack with tickles, all the joy ceased when Benjamin let out a petrified scream.

“Benji!” Grace gasped, immediately reaching out to bring him into a comforting hug. “Honey--”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” Benjamin heaved, throwing his cast into Nick’s jaw to knock him away. Terror seized his still achy body and disgust at the smile that had played overwhelmed him. When Nick released him, the young boy scurried away from the pile and went hurrying up the stairs in sobs.

“What the Hell just happened?” Nick groaned, holding the side of his aching face when Isabella gave chase after her older brother.

“He doesn’t think he’s allowed to be happy because of Logan,” Grace breathed with hurt, scrambling to her feet with every intention of finding Benjamin. But, when she heard the sharp slam of his bedroom door, she realized that he wanted no company. Tears wetted her cheeks when she slumped onto the couch, an overwhelming sadness washing over her without any warning whatsoever. Heaving a tired breath, she broke into a soft sob, wondering where she had gone wrong. “Damnit…”

“Gracie…” Nick trailed in confusion, not knowing what to say exactly or if he ever would.

Chapter 3

Unable to sleep, Nick entered the kitchen with every intention of filling the empty void in his body with the various casseroles in the refrigerator. He would have been much happier with Grace’s phenomenal hand in the kitchen, but she hadn’t the energy nor the time to prepare a good home cooked meal. He felt guilty for only focusing on his needs and when he groped for the lights, he realized that he wasn’t the only soul awake that night. A bottle of wine was opened on the kitchen island, half drained, and Nick knew that Grace was hiding somewhere. Turning, he felt the breeze of the open glass doors leading to the back deck, noting the familiar figure. She was leaning over the railing with the large wine glass cupped in both her hands. Her long honey curls floated in the breeze from the ponytail, fallen curls kissing her face with each change in the breeze. She studied the skyline intensely, seemingly mesmerized by the rolling waves. She always sought solace when she was upset and needed to think, but he knew she longed for company anyways.

“Hey, Gracie…”

“What are you doing up, Nicky?” Grace returned with a sharp intake of breath to stifle the sniffle. It seemed to suck the breath from the deepest recesses of her lungs, making an abnormally strangled sound in the bottom of her throat. Pulling a hand from her wine glass, she used it to furiously wipe away the telltale tears glistening on her face. She didn’t turn to face him until she felt his soft hand on her shoulder, comforting her in ways that he would never understand. Shivering, she turned to meet his gaze.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he explained, tucking away the curls that had fallen from her ponytail before kindly clearing away the remaining tears that she had missed. Smiling softly, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead in hopes to stir a familiar warmth within her unusually cold emerald eyes. “Guess I knew that you were up.”

“I don’t get much sleep anymore,” she admitted, leaning into his kiss when she felt the slightest flicker of warmth.

“You’d think the wine would knock your ass out. I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but you’ve never been the type to fuss with wine or beer. You always made the most adorably hideous faces when you tasted it, as if you had just yanked a chunk of sour lemon from the peel. Hell, you were happiest when you were drinking something that had more fruit punch than liquor!” Nick teased, lightly tickling her neck to elicit a smile.

“Not everyone can drink Grey Goose Vodka from the bottle then chase it down with tequila like your sorry ass,” Grace laughed softly, pulling away when she lightly jabbed his stomach.

“Ouch,” Nick hissed as if she had scorched him. “That’s hitting below the belt, Gracie.”

“Had to learn to be ruthless growing up with your family, Nicky,” Grace reminded him, leaning against the banister once more when she drained the last of the wine from her glass in a heavy gulp. During their youth, she had spent most of her days in the Carter household. Her mother had left her father because of infidelities; so she worked most of her days to simply put food on the table. It was a strength that Grace truly revered in her mother. God rest her soul.

“You ain’t fucking kidding…”

“Hell, I had to be ruthless just to fit into Logan’s family. His mother, who you forgot to tell me stopped by, is the shrewdest woman I have ever met in my life…” Grace trailed, setting her wine glass onto the banister to rub her aching temples. The migraines came far more easily since the passing of her husband. She assumed all the stress accumulating in her life was the cause, but she couldn’t exactly deal with it in a healthy way. She had too much to do.

“Shrewd. Sly. Bitchy. She has many adjectives in my book,” Nick muttered, moving to sit on the wooden porch swing. “And she told me not to tell you. Apparently, she thinks because I live in California and work in the music industry that my brain has been permanently warped by drugs and alcohol.”

“She’s not that skeptical of--”

“Gracie…”

“I know,” Grace groaned, pushing away from the banister. “She’s not very fond of you and I’ll be sure to hear exactly that when I go to lunch with her tomorrow.”

“And that’s putting it lightly.”

“I’m sorry, Nicky…”

“It’s not your fault and before you go hurrying into the house, I already checked on the rugrats. Both are asleep,” Nick assured, gesturing for Grace to take the spot next to him on the swing. “So, c’mon, we haven’t had time to ourselves in awhile. We need to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Grace inquired skeptically, though she joined Nick on the swing nonetheless. Tucking her bare feet beneath her body, she leaned against him for support as he started a gentle swinging motion with his feet anchored to the deck. Tucking her arms around him, she smiled softly when his arm wrapped soothingly around her shoulders, allowing her to fit perfectly into the curve of his side.

“Whatever you want to talk about,” Nick suggested, gently rubbing her shoulder as they swayed within the cool night air. Usually, he would consider this the perfect romantic setting. The shoreline a few yards away with the ocean waves gently rolling inward since the fading of the tide offered a romantic lullaby. The full moon shining upon them in a soft glitter gave them a sensual lighting that could never be captured in any other essence. Yet, his love was aching so painfully that all the romance had died. And he had so many questions that he wanted answered. What had happened to Logan to cause his death? Why was Benjamin so angry with him? Why was Benjamin injured as well? How was Grace truly doing with the passing of her husband? What were her plans now? And, most importantly, how could he help?

“Nicky, I honestly don’t care about what we talk about. I just want held,” Grace murmured honestly, bringing his other arm about her in a protective hold.

“…So, I can ask the questions that have been burning in my brain?”

“I’ve been waiting for them all to come blurting out.”

“Gracie, they’re pretty intense…”

“Just give me time to answer and don’t mind the tears. We’ll get through it.”

“That just means you have home field advantage of pushing without consequence when I fuck up and don’t want to talk about it.”

“Damn straight.”

“Good to see we’ve ended up in a give and take situation--”

“Just ask the questions.”

“When you called me, all you told me was that Logan had died. Then I get to the end of the burial service and all I hear is everyone whispering about it… I just… I want to know how it happened… I mean, Jesus, what happened?”

“It was a car accident,” Grace whispered before she could think to save herself the pain of reliving the moment. She could still hear the chimes of her cell phone as she sat in the restaurant with Isabella in her lap. The sound of the officer’s impassionate voice when he revealed the situation followed by the distinct shattering of her drinking glass when it fell from her hand. And then that horrified scream at the hospital echoing in her ears; the agonized banshee cry that she didn’t even recognize as her own. Squeezing her eyes shut, she warded off the memories and forced herself to remain calm. “Benji had been begging his Daddy to take him out shopping. He had done some chores around the house to earn his own money so he could buy me a b-birthday present… He was so proud of that… Made Logan promise that he could buy whatever he wanted… So, they planned to go out and wanted to meet Izzy and me for dinner… Then these… God, Nicky, they were just
kids…”

“Gracie, you don’t have to--”

“I need to,” she whispered, reaching for his hand to thread their fingers. “These kids were goofing off and speeding… Deciding to blow this red light when Logan had green… They plowed straight into Logan’s side of the car going at least sixty miles an hour… The car was completely totaled and they were trapped… My boys were trapped… Benji had to watch Logan pass away while these damn kids just tumbled out of their car with a few scrapes.”

“Jesus Christ, Gracie…” Nick murmured, not knowing what to say. He guessed there wasn’t much to say at that point. The horror of the situation screamed volumes anyway; Benjamin trapped and forced to watch his father die in a painful agony. Instead, he tightened his hold about her, realizing that hot tears were falling from his eyes and mixing with the painful tears that Grace also allowed to rain.

“That’s why Benji is so… He loves you so much, Nicky, honest. Just seeing his Daddy die and… He’s afraid that you might die, too… I tell him that you won’t, but he’s just so scared right now and, as much as I’ve studied pediatrics, I can’t seem to get him to open up. Not that I blame him. All the books on children’s grief say that they need a normal routine as much as possible. They need to stay in the same house. But, I look at this house and all I can see are memories. I hate it so much… I just want to leave… I think they do, too…”

“Where would you go?” Nick murmured, having every intention of getting every signal piece of contact information so he could follow her, knowing she was not strong enough to stand on her own. Not yet.

“I don’t know… Just away… Anywhere…”

“You haven’t seen the new house that I bought in California yet…”

Grace sniffled sharply at the direct shift in the conversation, casting him a bewildered glance. “I know, you complain about that all the time--”

“So, why not stay with me? I live right on the beach, Gracie. The kids can go outside and play all day. I can babysit if you need a break. Or if you need me, then I can just call the other Carters. The house is huge with tons of guest rooms. I have my boats if you feel like taking a trip. Hell, we can go to Disney World with Brian, Tori, and Bay. Anything you want. Just say you’ll stay with me for awhile? Till you can get back on your feet?”

“God, Nicky, that’s just--”

“I know you’re going to say it’s too much, but it’s not. I want you three out there with me. It’ll make me feel better knowing that you’re taken care of. That you’re within an arm’s length. Just think about it.”

“Nicky--”

“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.”

*~*~*

Looking at her mother-in-law over the neatly pressed linen tablecloth, Grace was amazed at the classical regal air that the woman exuded. Not a piece of what she knew to be frequently dyed, dark raven locks were free from the tightly upswept hairstyle of the latest European trend. Her onyx eyes were blazing with a hidden agenda that she would never reveal. Her trim form was dressed in an elegant gray Chanel suit and accessorized to even the minute details. A thick layer of make-up was dabbed to her face in order to make it appear as if she wore only the slightest touch of the most naturalistic material. Among all the social events that Grace had been forced to attend with Logan as a prized trophy for the family, she could recall several occasions when her mother-in-law’s social sphere snickered and suggested that the make-up was to hide the surgical marks of several face-lifts. After all, her husband, chief surgeon of the most prestigious hospital in all of Florida, knew several plastic surgeons that could very well give his wife a significant discount. Her mother-in-law would later tell her that the socialites were jealous, after all, who wouldn’t be envious of such a woman in her position? She didn’t even look as if she was a grieving mother, but perfection personified. It was a hard image to compete with, especially when Grace was beside herself with grief. She had barely managed to wrangle her body into a pair of worn jeans and a pale cream camisole. And she knew that her hair, wrapped into a messy bun, was nothing to be--

“Grace, have you heard a word that I said?”

Blanking at the invasion into her private thoughts, Grace jerked into a rigidly erect position and realized she had been tightly gripping the menu as the waiter stood with a pen poised. His eyes were focused on her with a slight agitation, wanting to just take the order and leave. Hurriedly scanning the menu, she made a quick order and apologized for the wait. Then, shifting uncomfortably, she took the glass of water for a tentative sip. Since the passing of her husband, Grace had been prone to periods of disassociation from the world. She would feel as if she had even left her body for the time being, but Samantha pulled her back with the sharp snort of annoyance. “I’m sorry, Samantha.”

“You should be, Grace,” Samantha Reynolds sighed, obviously already annoyed when she dismissed the waiter with a quick flick of her wrist. When they were left in the privacy of the private dining area, she took the white linen napkin from her silverware and folded it primly into her lap. Looking over to her daughter-in-law, she made a guttural sound in her throat that was tainted with disappointment. “Couldn’t you have dressed better? I know that when you were married to Logan that you dressed shabbily, but you think being in our family would have given you some sense of self respect--”

“Samantha, I haven’t exactly been feeling--”

“Still wallowing in your self-pity,” Samantha suspected quite cruelly, narrowing her onyx eyes toward her daughter-in-law. She had always been quite critical of Logan’s girlfriends and then finally the woman he wanted to be his wife. He had been Samantha’s only child and, therefore, her only attempt to create a legacy of her husband’s name. She had molded him into what one would jokingly refer to as a “Momma’s Boy.” Usually, Logan had listened to her advice, but Grace had been completely unexpected. When first meeting her, Samantha had been appalled, but upon taking her out for a “make-over,” she assumed that if Logan insisted on keeping this fantasy that work could be done to ensure her dreams still remained alive.

“I loved Logan--”

“So did I, but you don’t see me sobbing hysterically like some emotional actress, do you?”

“No…” Grace murmured softly, wanting to make a comment to the thick layer of ice that wrapped around her mother-in-law’s heart that prevented her detachment from her deceased son. But, Logan had always asked that Grace maintain a docile demeanor in front of his mother. He didn’t want her to ruffle the matriarch’s feathers, knowing that it would likely cause Armageddon. So, Grace had swallowed her anger, again, because of Logan.

“But yet you find it appropriate to cry in front of your son?” Samantha immediately questioned, seemingly drawing her expensively finished nails like the sharp claws of a perturbed feline. “Benjamin told me that you were crying. Since when was it appropriate to cry in front of children? You’re supposed to be strong for them. It was terrible enough that you insisted that they attend the funeral--”

“Psychology--”

“Is a profession for buffoons.”

Staring at Samantha for a moment, Grace found herself at a loss for words. The frostiness of her words sent a sharp chill down her spine. Never before had she thought that Samantha was so cold, though she supposed that Logan had done his best to dull the sharp edges of his mother’s attitude toward her during their years together. To suggest that Grace wasn’t doing right by her children was highly offending. She had done her best considering the circumstances. No one had a guide on how to deal with losing a husband and father at the ripe age of twenty-four. And Samantha most certainly didn’t understand the pain that came with losing her other half. So, balling the linen napkin into her fist, she had every intention of telling her just that. “Samantha, I--”

“While I’m on the subject, Grace, Dear, do you really think it’s proper etiquette for a bereaved widow to have a man living in her deceased husband’s house?”

At a loss for words again, Grace managed to sputter, “What?”

“Mr. Carter is still staying at my son’s house, correct?”

“It was our house--”

“Surely you don’t think that your nursing salary paid for such an expensive home built specifically for your family--”

“Samantha--”

“My son had that home built for his family, not for you to abuse as some sort of brothel. My friends and I were just saying how improper it is for you to allow Mr. Carter to stay there. He’s such a poor excuse for a man. I can’t understand why you insist he be around the children. My son always thought you two were having an affair and if I find out that was true, Grace, I swear to God I’ll make sure you don’t inherit a dime--”

Growling, Grace lurched from the table when her anger surpassed its boiling point. To make such filthy, slanderous remarks about her best friend was disgraceful. To suggest that she had only married Logan for the money was reprehensible. But to accuse her of being unfaithful to the man she loved was unspeakable. “I don’t want the money and I don’t give a flying fuck about your social circle gossip, Samantha! Jesus Christ! I’m taking the kids to California for a vacation. Nick offered to let us stay in his home. As a professional nurse and mother, I think it’s in the best interest of my children. I’ll be sure to make sure that the legal matters are all tied up before I leave.”

Chapter 4

Glancing up from the monotonous game of Go Fish he had been sneakily drawn into by his son and wife, Brian was honestly surprised that he hadn’t drifted into a comatose state and was startled when the door opened to reveal Nick. Lurching from his spot on the floor, his cards scattered from his lap and onto the coffee table, but he hadn’t been in a mind to finish the game anyways. Greedily, Baylee and Victoria dove to collect his cards into their own hands with the exclamation that it was fair game. Though, they seemingly fell into a vicious attack of tickles so they would get the best-matched pairs. Shaking his head in disbelief at their silliness, Brian hurriedly attempted to mask his pleased smile when he noticed Nick’s exhausted features, realizing that the younger man was in no mood to return to their scheduled work.

“Did you just get in?” Brian asked. “Because the other two aren’t even here yet, so--”

“It makes no sense to head back to the house now,” Nick answered, declining the offer Brian was about to make. Rubbing his weary face, he knew that if he traveled back to the house that he’d never return to the studio. Ten stuffy hours on a cramped flight, complete with time zone changes, and an aching heart for his beloved; Nick wanted to do nothing more than sink into a dark oblivion. “I’m here and I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t look ready to be back in the recording studio, Frack,” Brian commented carefully, reaching out to gently embrace the younger man. Management had been quite heinous about Nick’s personal life, demanding he be back to work within a week of the funeral. In fact, Brian had been skeptical that he would return, considering Nick’s defiance against management when he had initially been told. Brian was convinced that he had seen a few rude gestures that would have made the devil blush, but he understood Nick’s annoyance. After all, management had been the one to keep Howie from saying his final goodbyes to his older sister, Caroline. They had no respect for the men’s families in general. And, when Nick was so overly protective of Grace, it was natural that he’d react violently to anything that could potentially harm his relationship with her.

“I don’t think I really am ready to be back in the studio,” Nick agreed whole-heartedly, not having the strength nor the conviction to attack his best friend. Instead, he stooped in time to receive the exuberant four year old racing to tackle his legs that had squealed loudly with his praises. Baylee giggled when Nick swayed slightly, throwing his arms about the man’s neck for a jubilant squeeze. Smiling ruefully, he squeezed the youngster back before leaning to accept Victoria’s kiss. He always admired the closeness of the family and how they worked so steadily to make him part of the niche.

“I’m sure AJ will be quite excited to see you’ve returned,” Victoria suggested in hopes to elicit a smile from the younger man, but when he didn’t even seem to smirk with the knowledge that AJ would simply want information on Grace, she sighed and toyed with a short strand of her layered mocha locks. Reaching out, she gently squeezed the man’s upper arm, her soft caramel eyes warm with a kind understanding. She had always thought of Nick as a little brother, adopting that mantra from her beloved husband, who she had been with for many years. They even had taught Baylee, their only son, to think of Nick as an uncle or brother of sorts. But, looking into his dark sapphire eyes, she realized he did not want to be reminded of familial times. He wanted a chance to grieve for his love. “So, how is Grace?”

“Honestly?”

“I know when you’re lying to me, so yes.”

“She acts like she’s okay, but I know that she’s not, which is killing me,” Nick admitted honestly, shifting Baylee into his mother’s arms before collapsing on the nearby couch, having no desire to travel beyond those doors into the studio. How could he possibly sing of love and life when the love of his life was dying inside? She had looked so broken when he said goodbye several hours ago. A few tears had slipped past her beautiful emerald eyes, but she simply said that she would see him soon. She didn’t even acknowledge that she’d miss him, though he knew otherwise. Groaning at the thought, he furiously rubbed the palms of his hands into his eyes as if to clear away the grit of his mixed emotions.

Moving to sit on the opposite couch that faced Nick, Brian was loving in the way he reached to thread his fingers with Victoria’s, pulling her to rest at his side. The couple had spent many nights discussing Nick’s dilemma in the soft darkness of their bedroom. They worried about him as much as they worried about Grace. Leaning forward, he carefully cleared his throat to catch Nick’s attention. “Her husband just passed away, Nick, it’s going to take time for that pain to heal. She loved him very much. I remember being at their wedding and how she shrieked bloody murder if he pushed cake into her face. He did it anyway and she still loved on him for the rest of the night, despite the brief slam of cake into his crotch for paybacks--”

“Please, don’t remind me,” Nick muttered, throwing his head back against the couch. The wedded union of the two had been one of the most painful experiences in his life. To see Grace looking at another man with such romantic adoration had caused a deep wound in his heart that had never healed.

Victoria offered a small sigh of sympathy and squeezed Brian’s upper thigh to keep him from reminiscing, knowing it would do no good. “Nick--”

“Her and the kids are flying out soon.”

“To California? They’re staying with you?” Brian guessed, deciding to carry the conversation before Victoria could nag at the old recurring wounds opened in Nick’s heart from the sudden death.

“Yeah. Grace told me that it’s really hard for her to keep staying at the house that Logan built for them. She’s not sure what to do, so I told her she could take a vacation. With that fucking mother-in-law… She needs it. So, I’m going to fix up the one guest room for the kids. Izzy’s just turned one, so she’s still sleeping in a crib. Benji is four now, so he can use a regular bed, I guess?”

“Bay sleeps in a big boy bed and he’s four,” Victoria confirmed, playing with her son’s thick platinum curls.

“A very big bed!” Baylee agreed with a wide grin. “Daddy an’ me play jumping beans on it!”

“Which I’ve told you not to do how many times?” Victoria sighed, casting an ominous look toward her husband. But when he shrugged and offered the same wide, innocent grin as her son, she rolled her eyes and looked back to Nick. “I’m sure Grace will enjoy the vacation. Your house is beautiful. When’s she coming in?”

“End of the week, so I’m definitely going to be working my ass off to get everything ready--”

“Scooter will help you,” Victoria suddenly volunteered.

“I will?” Brian grunted.

“Of course you will,” Victoria enforced, casting him a warning glance that caused him to immediately nod. Smiling, she nodded at Nick as well. “Scooter will be happy to help you get everything around. Whatever you need help with, just tell him. Then, let me know what time Grace’s flight gets in and then Scooper and I will pick them up.”

Nick hesitated for a moment, “Tori--”

“I insist. And make sure to tell Grace that I’d love to spend time with her and the kids. Bay and Benji could be perfect playmates.”

“Playmates, Mommy? I get a new toy?” Baylee inquired with a curious glance.

“Not a toy, Scooper,” Brian laughed. “A friend.”

“Oh…” Baylee trailed, sliding away from his mother to collect the cards on the floor. “C’we get a new toy together?”

“We’ll see,” Brian chuckled.

“Guys…” Nick trailed when Baylee went rushing off to locate his bag of toys, which inevitably held a toy magazine within it. The boy always carried around a magazine in order to select toys, especially when he was around his father’s band-mates, who bribed him often. Waiting till he was fully immersed in his selections, Nick shifted to look at his parents. “Benji’s not exactly up to playmates right now with everything and being there when it happened, y’know?”

“Being there? When his father died?” Brian asked in confusion, furrowing his dark blonde brows when Victoria curled against his side. “How did it happen, Nick?”

“Car accident,” Nick whispered softly, squeezing his eyes to ward off Grace’s devastated expression when she explained. “Logan was taking Benji out to pick out presents for Gracie for her birthday. They were going to meet her and Izzy later at her favorite restaurant. But, some asshole… Some asshole of a kid was driving hard and fast and…Benji was pinned in his booster seat and had to watch his father die… I mean, it’s a miracle that he wasn’t killed, either… He got hurt and… Well, it could have been worse…”

“Jesus,” Brian breathed, feeling his wife’s arms wrap tightly about him in a fierce hug of protectiveness. “I can’t imagine…”

“Yeah…” Nick trailed, haphazardly shrugging his shoulders as he stooped to collect the cards that had fallen. “Anyway… She’s flying out with the kids in a few days. She had some stuff to wrap up with Logan’s lawyers and whatnot. She got some kind of grieving leave from her job and she can’t stand the thought of being in the home that they built together right now. I’m not even sure she’s going to go back to work… The life insurance and his practice and… I don’t know… She needs friends and family and--”

“She needs you,” Victoria suggested softly, knowing that he needed to hear it.

Nick looked up from the cards he had been diligently shuffling. “I hope she does…”

*~*~*

“Mommy, y’think we find a bed soon?” Benjamin questioned, breaking an exhausted yawn against the back of his cast, having slipped it from the sling momentarily. Once it was freed, he took the time to scratch the roughened cast material against the back of his ear, because it was itching terribly. Halting halfway when he heard the clearing of his mother’s throat, he squinted up into the sunlight to take her advice. Seeing his mother arch her light brows inquisitively toward him, he offered a rascally grin and snuck the cast back into the sling as if nothing had happened. Then, squeezing the hand he had been made to grasp, he quickened his steps so they could enter the air-conditioned airport terminal.

“Very soon, Benny-Boy,” Grace promised with a soft coo, knowing that her son must surely be exhausted. His cheeks were reddened from the steamy heat of the encapsulated Los Angeles. In fact, Isabella was already snoozing against her bare shoulder, wisps of her golden curls pulling away with the hot breaths blowing from the girl’s pursed lips. When she had been active in flying around the world to visit Nick on tour, she could always remember the familiar weight of time zone changes on top of the exhausting jet lag, but the effects it had on children must have been the equivalent to ten shots of Benadryl. “We just have to find Nicky among these throngs of people so we can get to his house.”

“Thongs?” Benjamin repeated with distaste, his drooping eyes popping open in surprise. “Mommy, you said them’s uncomfortable as a monster Nicky wedgie! How come all these people have thongs on?!”

Snorting with laughter and unable to answer his curiosity, Grace shifted the carry-on bag to her back and scooped Benjamin onto her opposite hip with an amused growl. Blowing a soft raspberry on his neck, she was relieved to hear him giggle with appreciation while his arm wrapped about her neck. Maybe this change in scenery hadn’t been a hasty decision after all. She had feared uprooting the children from their home so early after Logan’s death, knowing that all the books on childhood grieving suggested otherwise. But the change in Benjamin was unmistakable. He seemed to be in better spirits as the days wore on. Every now and then, when she looked at him, she could even see a soft smile hinting at his lips. She just hoped that he wouldn’t revert back into his protective shell upon seeing Nick, knowing that her friend ached to have his connection with the boy rekindled--

“Mommy, we staying with Nicky?” Benjamin suddenly interrupted.

“Yes, we’re staying at Nicky’s big house. He said he has a room picked out especially for you and Izzy. He also has tons of toys to play with. And he has a pool for when your cast comes off. He even lives by the ocean! Just imagine how great it’ll be to have our own private beach, Benji--”

“Is his fans gonna be with us?”

“His fans?”

“All them people that jump on him all the time?”

“Oh, Lord no! We’d never have enough room.”

“Then can you tell them to get out of our way?”

Following the direction of Benjamin’s pointing, Grace swallowed the urge to groan when she noticed the tightly knitted group of girls circling around a particular area. Flashes from cameras exploded and Benjamin tucked his face into the crook of his mother’s face, not wanting to become the center of attention. Paparazzi and fans had already mauled him when Nick had taken him out before. It was the one part of Nick’s fame that she didn’t particularly care for, the massive invasion of privacy. Every time she was with him in public, the crowds were not far behind, demanding to know if she was his next love affair. So, curling her arms around her children, Grace carefully maneuvered her way through the crowd, surprised to find Victoria and Baylee Littrell waiting.

“Grace!” Victoria breathed excitedly, hurriedly scrawling her name over another notepad before excusing herself. Making sure to keep hold on her exuberant son’s hand, she stepped forward and wasted no time in embracing the younger woman. She had been waiting for what seemed like hours for the plane to touch down, but couldn’t deny the buzz of fans milling about that asked for photographs. She knew it was the implied duties when she wedded Brian. Not that she minded being adored by millions, especially when she gave Brian an adorable little boy. “It’s so great to see you!”

“Victoria,” Grace murmured in surprise, not able to return the affectionate squeeze with her children settled on opposite hips. Though, it was easy to see the delight gracing her lovely facial features. The last time she had spent time with Victoria would have been at her baby shower for Isabella that Nick had actually planned with Logan. All the men in the group had been invited, so Brian had brought his newly wedded wife. Grace found her to be a great friend, better than the nightmare Brian had been dating who had been too many years his senior. “It’s been--”

“Way too long!” Victoria interrupted with a laugh, pulling her toward the private waiting area that she made sure to reserve beforehand. Gesturing toward the bodyguards, she thanked them in advance for gathering Grace’s luggage from baggage claim, not wanting to cause too much of a stir within the airport. She wanted this transaction to go smoothly for the family, knowing that Nick only wanted the best. “I’m sorry that Nick couldn’t come. He was getting the house ready for you guys, so then I made sure that Brian stayed to help him, which meant that we got to come pick you up!”

“We could have just taken a cab--”

“No, I wanted to make sure that someone picked you up,” Victoria declined with a small smile, watching Benjamin squirm within his mother’s arms so he could be placed upon the floor. He immediately rubbed his face to clear away the sleep, but stood close to his mother while eyeing the other preschooler. Natural curiosity had won over the melancholy. “Benji and Isabella have gotten so big.”

“So has Baylee,” Grace agreed with a small smile, shifting Isabella to her hip while she ran her fingers through Benjamin’s blonde locks. “I think these two could pass for twins.”

“No doubt,” Victoria laughed, crouching down to meet her son’s height. She had great hopes that Baylee would befriend Benjamin; especially hearing about the traumatic experience the younger boy had endured. Benjamin needed a friend desperately. “Scooper, remember how Daddy and I were talking about you having a new person to play with?”

“That him?” Baylee questioned, gesturing toward Benjamin.

“That’s him,” Victoria agreed. “His name is Benji. Why don’t you say hello?”

“Okay,” Baylee agreed, stepping forward while yanking on his Thomas the Tank Engine shirt, stained with the chocolate ice cream his mother insisted he couldn’t have before lunch, but his father had given him anyway. Regarding the other boy for a moment, he wiped his nose against the back of his hand with a snort before extending it, mimicking his role models. “S’up?”

Furrowing his light brows in confusion, Benjamin wasn’t sure how to regard the other toddler. So, when Baylee stepped forward and waved his hand in an aggressive manner so Benjamin would shake it, he instead turned to stare up at his mother in horror. Grace’s encouraging smile did nothing to help as he scurried behind her for protection. Clutching her leg, knowing she would protect him, he carefully peeked around his mother. “He eat Boo Berry today, Mommy? ‘Cause he scary!”

“Benjamin,” Grace groaned with a small laugh, shrugging her shoulders at Victoria.

“Why him got that hard bone on his arm? Him get in a fight with a ‘gator in Florida?” Baylee suddenly inquired.

“Baylee!” Victoria growled, reaching to scoop her child up. “Less AJ and more Kevin modeling next time, Okay?”