Ugly Love Part 41

I was scared that my memories would take away from the day I became a father again.

Well, it just happened.

And I'm still scared.

Terrified.

"It's a girl," the doctor says.

A girl.

We just had a baby girl.

I just became a father again.

Tate just became a mother.

Feel something, Miles.

Tate looks up at me.

I know she can see the fear in my eyes. I also know how much pain she's in right now, but she still somehow manages a smile.

"Sam," she whispers, saying her name out loud for the first time. Tate insisted we name her Sam in honor of Cap's real name, Samuel.

I wouldn't have had it any other way.

The nurse walks over to Tate and lays Sam in her arms.

Tate begins to cry.

My eyes are still dry.

I'm still too scared to look away from Tate and down at our daughter.

I'm not afraid of what I'll feel when I look at her.

I'm afraid of what I won't feel.

I'm terrified my past experiences have ruined any ability I have to feel what every father should feel in this moment.

"Come here," Tate says, wanting me closer.

I sit down next to them on the bed.

She hands Sam to me, and my hands are shaking, but I take her anyway.

I close my eyes and release a slow breath before finding the courage to open them again.

I feel Tate's hand fall gently to my arm.

"She's beautiful, Miles," she whispers. "Look at her."

I open my eyes and inhale sharply when I see her.

She looks just like he did, except that she has Tate's brown hair.

Her eyes are blue.

She has my eyes.

I.

feel it.

It's all there.

Everything I felt the first time I held him in my arms is every single thing I'm feeling now as I look down at her.

Believing that I lacked the ability to love someone in this capacity again was the only fear I had left to conquer.

One look at Sam, and she just helped me conquer that fear.

She's already my hero, and she's only two minutes old.

"She's so beautiful, Tate," I whisper. "So beautiful."

My voice cracks.

My face is covered in tears.

Falling Falling Falling.

For the first time since the moment I held Clayton in my arms, I'm crying tears of joy.

Rachel was right. The pain will always be there.

So will the fear.

But the pain and fear are no longer my life. They're only moments.

Moments that are constantly overshadowed with every minute I spend with Tate.

And now with every minute I spend with Sam.

Me and Tate and Sam.

My family.

I kiss her on the forehead, and then I lean over and kiss Tate for giving me something this beautiful again.

Tate lays her head on my arm, and we both watch her.

Our daughter.

I love you so much, Sam.

I'm looking down at the perfection we created when it hits me.

It's all worth it.

It's the beautiful moments like these that make up for the ugly love.

If you loved Ugly Love,

read on for a sneak peek of

Colleen Hoover's HOPELESS.

Available in both paperback and eBook Sunday, October 28, 2012

7:29 p.m.

I stand up and look down at the bed, holding my breath in fear of the sounds that are escalating from deep within my throat.

I will not cry.

I will not cry.

Slowly sinking to my knees, I place my hands on the edge of the bed and run my fingers over the yellow stars poured across the deep blue background of the comforter. I stare at the stars until they begin to blur from the tears that are clouding my vision.

I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my head into the bed, grabbing fistfuls of the blanket. My shoulders begin to shake as the sobs I've been trying to contain violently break out of me. With one swift movement, I stand up, scream, and rip the blanket off the bed, throwing it across the room.

I ball my fists and frantically look around for something else to throw. I grab the pillows off the bed and chuck them at the reflection in the mirror of the girl I no longer know. I watch as the girl in the mirror stares back at me, sobbing pathetically. The weakness in her tears infuriates me. We begin to run toward each other until our fists collide against the gla.s.s, smashing the mirror. I watch as she falls into a million shiny pieces onto the carpet.

I grip the edges of the dresser and push it sideways, letting out another scream that has been pent up for way too long. When the dresser comes to rest on its back, I rip open the drawers and throw the contents across the room, spinning and throwing and kicking at everything in my path. I grab at the sheer blue curtain panels and yank them until the rod snaps and the curtains fall around me. I reach over to the boxes piled high in the corner, and without even knowing what's inside, I take the top one and throw it against the wall with as much force as my five-foot, three-inch frame can muster.

"I hate you!" I cry. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

I'm throwing whatever I can find in front of me at whatever else I can find in front of me. Every time I open my mouth to scream, I taste the salt from the tears that are streaming down my cheeks.

Holder's arms suddenly engulf me from behind and grip me so tightly I become immobile. I jerk and toss and scream some more until my actions are no longer thought out. They're just reactions.

"Stop," he says calmly against my ear, unwilling to release me. I hear him, but I pretend not to. Or I just don't care. I continue to struggle against his grasp but he only tightens his grip.

"Don't touch me!" I yell at the top of my lungs, clawing at his arms. Again, it doesn't faze him.

Don't touch me. Please, please, please.

The small voice echoes in my mind and I immediately become limp in his arms. I become weaker as my tears grow stronger, consuming me. I become nothing more than a vessel for the tears that won't stop shedding.

I am weak, and I'm letting him win.

Holder loosens his grip around me and places his hands on my shoulders, then turns me around to face him. I can't even look at him. I melt against his chest from exhaustion and defeat, taking in fistfuls of his shirt as I sob, my cheek pressed against his heart. He places his hand on the back of my head and lowers his mouth to my ear.

"Sky." His voice is steady and unaffected. "You need to leave. Now."

Sat.u.r.day, August 25, 2012

11:50 p.m.

Two months earlier . . .

I'd like to think most of the decisions I've made throughout my seventeen years have been smart ones. Hopefully intelligence is measured by weight, and the few dumb decisions I've made will be outweighed by the intelligent ones. If that's the case, I'll need to make a s.h.i.tload of smart decisions tomorrow because sneaking Grayson into my bedroom window for the third time this month weighs pretty heavily on the dumb side of the scale. However, the only accurate measurement of a decision's level of stupidity is time . . . so I guess I'll wait and see if I get caught before I break out the gavel.

Despite what this may look like, I am not a s.l.u.t. Unless, of course, the definition of s.l.u.t is based on the fact that I make out with lots of people, regardless of my lack of attraction to them. In that case, one might have grounds for debate.

"Hurry," Grayson mouths behind the closed window, obviously irritated at my lack of urgency.

I unlock the latch and slide the window up as quietly as possible. Karen may be an unconventional parent, but when it comes to boys sneaking through bedroom windows at midnight, she's your typical, disapproving mother.

"Quiet," I whisper. Grayson hoists himself up and throws one leg over the ledge, then climbs into my bedroom. It helps that the windows on this side of the house are barely three feet from the ground; it's almost like having my own door. In fact, Six and I have probably used our windows to go back and forth to each other's houses more than we've used actual doors. Karen has become so used to it, she doesn't even question my window being open the majority of the time.

Before I close the curtain, I glance to Six's bedroom window. She waves at me with one hand while pulling on Jaxon's arm with the other as he climbs into her bedroom. As soon as Jaxon is safely inside, he turns and sticks his head back out the window. "Meet me at your truck in an hour," he whispers loudly to Grayson. He closes Six's window and shuts her curtains.