Uniting Hearts: Discovering Me #3 Read online

  Uniting Hearts

  Discovering Me #3

  A.M. Arthur

  Briggs-King Books

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Also by A.M. Arthur

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Uniting Hearts (Discovering Me #3)

  Can their hard-won romance survive a new test of love and devotion?

  Cole Alston’s only goal when he returned to his rural hometown was to offload his inherited property and leave. Now, he’s very much in love with Jeremy, and he’s determined to make his own career goals mesh with the life he wants to build here. But an unexpected announcement from Jeremy throws Cole’s carefully ordered life completely off track.

  Adjusting to their new normal isn’t easy, but Jeremy Collins is determined to make things work. To build the life he’s always wanted with Cole by his side. Reality doesn’t always place nice with dreams, though, and it will take both men’s strength and love to truly unite as a family.

  This is a brand-new conclusion to the Discovering Me trilogy.

  First Edition © 2020 by A.M. Arthur

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of the author.

  All characters and events in this book are purely fictional and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names.

  Cover art by Sloan J Designs

  Briggs-King Books

  Created with Vellum

  1

  COLE

  “Bethann’s in labor.”

  Simple things like seeing Jeremy’s name light up my phone always made me smile, but I felt my entire face go slack at his unexpected announcement. “Labor?” I stared straight ahead at the row of hammers and screwdrivers hanging on the workshop’s peg board, trying to process the word. “But it’s too early.”

  “I know it’s too early.” Jeremy was always great in a crisis, but a bit of panic leaked into his otherwise steady voice. I knew him well enough to pick up on the clues. “Suzy called me a few minutes ago, said Bethann was working a shift and started cramping. That she thought they were Braxton-Hicks again, like a few weeks ago, so she sat down in the office for a few, and then her water broke all over Mr. Smith’s chair.”

  “Fuck.” My heart twisted.

  I didn’t know much about women’s bodies or giving birth, but water breaking was a sure sign of a baby coming in the near future. Bethann Quinn was only thirty-two weeks into a pregnancy that had been difficult for her ever since the second trimester. The stress of being a single mom with zero support from the baby’s father hadn’t helped, and neither had facing the scorn of the small-town gossip circuit when she flat-out refused to name the dad.

  After lying and saying her best friend—and my boyfriend, lover, business partner—Jeremy Collins was the baby daddy back in February. That lie went over with us like a ton of bricks, and even though she eventually told the truth, the damage was done. I’d never completely trust her.

  Then again, the only person in my life I completely trusted was Jeremy.

  “Okay, where are you right now?” I asked.

  “On the road, halfway to County Hospital. I was making that delivery over to the Euall place when Suzy called me. That’s where she took Bethann.”

  “Do you want me to come meet you there?” The slight upward pitch my voice took on betrayed me. I hated hospitals. The last time I was in one was about three years ago. I’d been recovering from a broken nose, second-degree scalding burns on my legs, and dozens of cuts from being thrown through a glass shower door by my ex. And that hadn’t been the first time Martin put me in the hospital.

  It had, however, been the last.

  Jeremy knew I hated hospitals, which was probably why he didn’t answer straight away. “Not right this second, Cole. Let me get there and see what’s what. And even if it is labor, that can take hours. No need for us both to sit around twiddling our thumbs.”

  I adored him for letting me off the hook, even though it meant staying behind instead of being there to support him. Jeremy had done so much for me in the eight months since we met, supporting me through fits of PTSD and learning how to stay put after being on the run for two years. I loved being able to return the favor once in a while.

  “Okay,” I said. “Is Meredith okay to watch the store all day?” Meredith was minding the shop today while Jeremy was supposed to be out running errands and following up on some leads. It was the middle of July, which meant an increase in traffic on and off the interstate to visit our little town’s few attractions, including Jeremy’s store Lost Treasures Antiques. Meredith worked for Jeremy about twenty-five hours a week so he wasn’t there all day, every day.

  “Yeah, she assured me she’ll be fine,” Jeremy replied.

  “Okay. Call me if you need anything. Anything.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Me too.”

  I shoved my phone back into my rear pocket, all inspiration to finish my latest refurbish project gone. The bench I was assembling from various parts I’d picked up at a local salvage yard, including a rusted iron grill that had once been part of a child’s day bed, looked like a bunch of crap on the worktable, and my original vision fled.

  Jeremy needed me, and instead of insisting I go to him, I stayed behind like a coward.

  Par for the course.

  I put my tools away, locked the workshop door, and then trudged across the driveway to the house. The first floor of the three-story home I lived in with Jeremy held his antique shop, full of treasures from all decades and walks of life. Jeremy had been in the antiques business most of his life, and his interest in picking and rooting around on properties is how we met last December.

  I’d returned to my hometown of Franklin, North Carolina, with the sole intention of collecting my mother’s ashes and selling off her property as quickly as possible. The issue had been both of my deceased parents were hoarders, and the house, sheds, and rusted-out VW bus were packed with…well, I thought junk. But then Jeremy rolled up in his big work van, dug an old bicycle frame out of the ground and, later on, handed me sixty-dollars cash for it. What began as a business arrangement quickly became more for us both, and bless the man for having the patience of a saint with my issues.

  My nightmares might be fewer and farther between now, as the months passed, but a tiny part of my heart still panicked when I saw the dark spots under Jeremy’s eyes. The part that couldn’t let go of the fear that one day, Jeremy would get sick of me. Sick of my nightmares and jumpiness and occasional panic attacks. That the quiet, beautiful life we were building together would shatter into unfixable pieces. Pieces that no amount of rearranging or upcycling could make whole again.

  I walked in the back door of the house, which opened into a mud room that held the washer and dryer. Another door to the shop was directly ahead. I ascended the stairs in front of me to the second floor. The sense of wonder I’d felt the very first time I saw the gourmet kitchen and open living room floor plan still hit me every time I entered. Jeremy had gutted and redone the entire second floor when he bought the place.

  The kitchen was our favorite spot to spend time together, usually cooking. We ate at the counter most days. Once in a great while, we made love in that kitchen, but not often. Hard s
urfaces against my knees still sent me back to my years of abuse at Martin’s hands, no care for my discomfort or pain, so long as Martin got off. And Jeremy was so crazy sensitive about how we had sex, careful with things that might trigger me. We both loved the bed we shared, so we made most of our memories there.

  Our room, a guest room, and the bathroom were on the third floor, so I trudged upstairs to take a whizz. It was only noon, and now my day had been shattered by Jeremy’s phone call. I worried for Jeremy, but even more, I worried for Bethann and her baby. Thirty-two weeks was early. Really early. And a lot of the time, premature babies had all kinds of health issues. The baby wasn’t Jeremy’s biologically, but I’ve never seen a man fret more over a pregnant woman than he had over Bethann.

  Former sister-in-law or not, sometimes it was pretty damned irritating.

  I made myself a tuna sandwich for lunch, then puttered around the living room for a while, alternately trying to read my latest novel—I kept trying to get Jeremy into the thick, fantasy novels I loved, but he always said they were way too complex for him to keep track of everything—and simply pacing around the place.

  At four o’clock, my phone rang again. My heart thumped. Instead of Jeremy’s name, though, Connor Realty lit up the screen. I hadn’t heard directly from them in several weeks. Penny Connor was handling the sale of my mother’s property. We’d originally sold it at auction last December, but then the deal fell through and it went back up for sale. For a while, I’d told myself I was only hanging around in Franklin because I wanted the land sale money to start over with.

  Now I was staying because I loved Jeremy, and I wanted to be with him for as long as he wanted me. Selling the land simply meant a final end to that part of my past, and a chance to discover my future.

  Our future.

  I answered the call. “Cole Alston.”

  “Cole, it’s Penny Connor. How are you today?”

  Stressed out over another man’s baby, thanks. How’s your day?

  “Fine, Mrs. Connor. How’re you?”

  “Can’t complain too much, especially today. I finally have good news. Got an all-cash offer on that property of yours.”

  Something giddy and wonderful spread warmth all through my body. “Really?”

  “Yup. Not quite what we listed, but it’s the first offer we’ve had in months.”

  “Okay.”

  The number Mrs. Connor quoted was practically half of what we’d listed the property for, but she was right. No one had offered anything in months, and the previous offer hadn’t gone any further than that. The buildings were unusable in their condition. And land around here was a hard sell most of the time. Despite Franklin being right off a major interstate, we were a small town in the middle of northeastern North Carolina with no real tourist draw, other than the Sow’s Ear’s famous barbeque and Jeremy’s antiques store. My parents had a lot of land, and with the house being unlivable, it was a hard lot to sell.

  “Like I said,” Mr. Connor said, “it’s a lowball offer—”

  “Take the offer.” I couldn’t stop the words, and I didn’t want to take them back. I hated that land. I wanted it out of my hands at any price. “Sell to them.”

  “You sure you don’t want to think this through or give them a counteroffer?”

  “Mrs. Connor, I’ve wanted to sell that piece of land since December. It’s been eight months. I don’t care if the buyer wants to tear it all down and build a hippie commune out here. I don’t want it in my life anymore.”

  “I understand. I’ll call them back and let them know.”

  “How long do you think it will take to close?”

  “Well, with an all-cash offer and no negotiations on price, I’d guess we’ll have this deal finished by the end of next week.”

  I released a long, relieved breath. In one more week, that chapter of my life would close—just as a new chapter opened, with Bethann and her newborn coming earlier than expected. I always knew the birth would change things between me and Jeremy, but I honestly thought I’d have more time to prepare. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Connor. You have no idea.”

  “I’m happy to help, Cole. I’ll speak to you again soon.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up and stared at my phone for a few minutes, cataloguing the faint creaks of the old house, my slow breaths, the vague scent of stale coffee and our breakfast bacon. Things to prove I wasn’t dreaming, wasn’t imagining that call. It had really happened. I was finally selling that damned piece of property I’d never wanted in the first place.

  I was finally setting myself free from my last official tie to Franklin.

  Except…

  My gaze fell on the framed photo atop the bookshelf near the television. Jeremy had given it to me for my birthday back in April. Bethann had taken a picture of me and Jeremy at the Sow’s Ear, while we were eating dinner and she was waiting on our table. Neither of us realized she’d taken it until she showed it to Jeremy later. Jeremy and I sat across the table from each other and were sharing an appetizer of Cajun shrimp skewers, smiling and so in-tune with each other. A simple moment in time; I loved that photo.

  Maybe I was no longer financially tied to Franklin, but my heart belonged here with Jeremy. For the first time in my thirty years on earth, I understood what real love was, thanks to Jeremy and his unwavering support. We’d nearly imploded back in February, because we hadn’t been able to voice our deepest fears or our deepest desires. But we got through it.

  Our life here wasn’t always perfect. I was the gay son of two crazy hoarders and have been called crazy myself by association—and because of a very public PTSD-related meltdown. Jeremy was bisexual and openly with me. A queer couple in a small town made us the frequent subject of gossip and occasionally outright rudeness. But Jeremy’s business was steady and we’d never been overtly threatened.

  I could stay put, continue loving Jeremy, and maybe invest more in my upcycling hobby. Ever since going along with Jeremy on my first pick, I’d been turning broken things into usable…well, Jeremy called it folk art. I call it new furniture. Since I couldn’t afford college until I sold the land, I’d been reading books and magazines about upcycling, woodworking, and design. And every piece I’d consigned in Jeremy’s store so far had sold.

  Still, I sometimes missed the hustle and bustle of Chicago, where I’d gone to college and lived for nearly a third of my life, and I wondered what else was out there beyond the borders of my small hometown. A kind of wanderlust I’d grown up with, always wishing to live anywhere else but my parents’ hoarded property, and I’d never truly lost it.

  I don’t need to think about it yet. We haven’t closed the sale.

  Until that money was in my bank account, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I wandered into the kitchen to ponder dinner and my phone rang again. Jeremy this time. “Hey, any updates?”

  “She’s progressing on schedule,” he replied, his voice much calmer than the last time we’d spoken, and that relaxed my own anxiety over the early birth. “But the doctor doesn’t think she’ll give birth before midnight.”

  “Yikes. That’s a long time away.”

  “You’re telling me. Despite reassurances that the baby seems to be in perfect health, no distress, Bethann is scared. Between me and Suzy, keeping Bethann relaxed is a full-time job.”

  A flash of gratitude that Jeremy wasn’t alone in this warmed my insides. I didn’t know Suzy well, aside from a few interactions at the Sow’s Ear, but she must be a good friend to stick around the hospital. “So you’re going to be there all night?”

  “Looks that way. Sorry I’m messing up our date night.”

  I’d completely forgotten we’d made plans to have a late dinner at Vincenzo’s Bistro, the place where we’d had our first official date. We tried to go back at least once a month, maybe twice, because their food was worth the drive. “Don’t worry about it, Jeremy. You’re Bethann’s birth coach, so you have to be there. Want me to bring you dinn
er?”

  “That would be amazing. My lunch was a bag of Cheetos and a Sprite.”

  I laughed. “Vending machine lunch?”

  “Yup.”

  “There’s a diner on the way to the hospital, isn’t there? I can stop by and get takeout. Something hot to prepare you for a long night of Bethann squeezing the hell out of your hand.”

  “Sounds perfect. Love you.”

  “Me too. See you in about an hour.” Sometimes I felt guilty for not saying “I love you” back every time Jeremy said it, but the words still felt strange. Unpracticed. Growing up the way I had, in a hoarded home, just another thing my parents had collected, my life had lacked real love. Even though Martin had said he loved me a handful of times when I first moved in with him, my life with Martin had lacked real love, too. It had taken so much self-reflection to finally tell Jeremy I loved him the first time. For me, those words were for precious moments, not everyday language.

  But I adored it every time Jeremy said them to me, because I knew in my bones he meant it. And I did my best in our everyday lives to show Jeremy how much I loved him back.

  On a whim, I checked to see if the diner had a website and they did, complete with their menu and online ordering. Jeremy was a big fan of red meat, so I got him a double cheeseburger with sweet potato fries, and a turkey club with coleslaw for myself. Pickup time was forty-five minutes, which gave me plenty of time to get there.

  I changed out of the grubby clothes I wore in the workshop and into clean khaki pants and a t-shirt. Even though it was July and hot as hell outside, I always wore long pants when I was in public. I hated when people saw the burn scars on the backs of my legs. And I never went shirtless in public, because of the other scars on my back and shoulders from being pushed through a glass shower door.