Free Wicked Intentions (Steele Secrurity Book 4) by A.D. Justice

give you in person, eye to eye, so you’d see, hear, and feel everything I’m feeling. For now, I have to hope and pray this letter will accurately convey what I need to say to you.
    Here we go.
    My hands were shaking so badly when I took that pregnancy test, I’m surprised I didn’t pee all over myself instead of that little stick. I already knew the results before I even looked at the little window. My period had always been like clockwork until the day it just stopped showing up completely. Morning sickness had already reared its ugly head enough that I couldn’t deny what was really happening. But I still needed the proof that little test provided before I’d accept it.
    I remember walking out of the bathroom, hiding the test in case my parents were nearby, and rushing straight back to my bedroom. You were waiting for me, sitting on my bed and using my pencils as drumsticks, without a care in the world. You knew what the results would be, too. Unlike me, you were excited about the odds that I was really pregnant. But then, it was always hard to rile you up, unless some other guy ignorantly thought he could take your place by my side.
    When I handed the pregnancy test to you without even looking at it myself, I turned around and put my head against my chest of drawers. You wrapped your arms around my waist and pulled my back flush against your front. Your hands lovingly snaked up my torso until your forearms crossed over my chest while you held me tightly. Your lips were against my ear when you whispered, “It’s positive, Heather. We are pregnant.”
    At first, I didn’t realize you’d said “we” instead of “you.” I shouldn’t have been surprised by it, though. You never would’ve made me feel like I’d have to face it alone. And I didn’t, not one step of the way did I ever feel alone. When we told my parents, my dad threatened you by saying, “I’ll cut your dick off and mount it over the fireplace.”
    You calmly replied, “Your mantle isn’t big enough to hold my dick, so it sure wouldn’t hold it with you mounting it.”
    I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, and that’s all it took to calm my frayed nerves so I could function again. After that, I put my dad in his place and showed them both my place was by your side. Though the rest of conversation wasn’t pleasant, you helped me make it clear we would get married and they couldn’t stop us from having our own family. Of course, then we had to pretend it was our choice to wait a couple of months until we’d both turned eighteen so we could marry without their permission.
    Our wedding and reception were interesting, to say the least. My dad finally agreed to walk me down the aisle, if for no other reason than he wouldn’t stand for someone else doing it instead. When the preacher asked who gave me to you, I thought he’d change his mind and drag me out of the church. But he surprised me and went through with it as planned. I’ve always wondered if my mom had something to do with that, whether she threatened him to make him do it.
    Our reception was small but nice. Our three-tiered wedding cake was everything we could have asked for, the punch was perfect, and the candles that lit the room cast the perfect ambiance. Until Kelly leaned over to cut the cake and caught her hair on fire, that is. The flash from her hair spray igniting was both loud and bright. While the others patted her head to stop her hair from being charred, you and I were doubled over in laughter with tears streaming down our faces.
    I’ll never forget how you carried me over the threshold of our tiny little apartment when we finally left the reception. You refused to let me walk inside on my own two feet because you said it was your job to carry me. To you, it was symbolic of how you’d always be there to carry me, care for me, and love me. I didn’t doubt your love then, Brax, and I don’t doubt it now.
    As my belly grew, so did our love and excitement for the