Sean: Denver Royalty (Book 3) Read online

  © 2018 Sheridan Anne.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Cover Design by: Sheridan Anne

  Photograph: Andrew Poplavsky

  Editing by: Sheridan Anne & Jessie Lynn

  Introduction

  Sean

  I’m a shell of the man I used to be.

  Three years ago, my world shattered.

  My wife died the day my daughter was born and she took my soul with her.

  I’ve never been able to get it back.

  Not until she came and saved me.

  Gigi

  He came storming into my ER screaming for help.

  I never thought that moment would define the rest of my life.

  He’s broken and tortured, but not for long.

  I’m going to bring his happiness back.

  WARNING: Sean is a steamy romance with a HEA and NO CLIFFHANGER. It contains sexual content and coarse language. It is recommended for mature readers. Please be aware that some scenes may cause stress for some readers.

  The Denver Royalty series is made up of standalone novels, however, for maximum enjoyment, it is recommended that readers start with the Kings of Denver series.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other books by Sheridan Anne

  Chapter 1

  Sean

  I lay awake on my daughter’s bedroom floor. I stare up at the picture of my wife on my daughter’s bedside table, watching over my little girl as she struggles to find peace in her sleep. The sound of her shaky breath is the only noise heard within this big house. Her asthma has been playing up a lot lately. We’ve already been to the hospital three times this month.

  It’s always bad but the second winter hit, it was like torture for my poor little Georgie. In and out of the hospital when she should be running around the playground with her cousins. Instead, she sits and plays quietly while watching her cousins with a desperate longing in her eyes. All she wants to do is run. She must think I’m a monster always telling her no.

  God, I just don’t know what to do. I wasn’t built to do this on my own.

  I need my wife. My beautiful Sara. She was ripped away from me three years ago and I’ve spent every minute of every day wishing I could get her back.

  Fuck, I miss her.

  My heart aches just thinking about her, but I’m used to it now. After so long, you need to get on with life, you need to find a way to carry on. For me, it was my daughter.

  Sara died after an emergency Caesarean and I’ll never forget that day. It’s forever ingrained in my memory, like a constant reminder of what I’ve lost.

  It started as the best day of our lives. It was late at night and we were wrapped in each other’s arms, watching some ridiculous dance movie. She loved that shit. I could never get into it. I’m more of an action movie kind of guy, but Sara, all that dancing and lovey-dovey shit, that was right up her alley.

  Her hand was firmly in mine when she gasped and looked down. She was so embarrassed because she thought she had wet her pants, but it was her water breaking. I didn’t even give her a second to worry about it before I scooped her up in my arms and deposited her in my truck.

  We were about to have the baby we’d always wanted. Things could not have been better.

  We were at the hospital in record time. She got dressed in a hospital gown, kissed me and climbed into the bed. Nurses came in and out, my family showed up and she screamed while digging her nails into the skin of my hand as she rode out her contractions.

  The baby went into distress and Sara was wheeled down the hallway for an emergency Caesarean. I had some nurse launch a pair of scrubs at me and order me to hurry up while Sara was prepped for surgery.

  She was terrified. I’ll never forget the look on her face. It still haunts me to this day. The last thing she wanted was to have a Caesarean, but we had no other choice in the matter. Our baby’s life was at stake. I held her hand and wiped away a tear as the doctor worked furiously to get our baby out.

  At five in the morning, our little Georgia was born and placed on Sara’s chest. She held our precious baby for the first and only time. I would give anything to have that with her again. It’s the most precious memory I have of Sara, apart from our wedding day.

  I leaned down and kissed her as we watched our baby take her first breath before screaming the room down. “I love you, so much, Sara,” I whispered before she turned and looked up at me.

  She gave me an exhausted smile and pulled me down to her again. “We did good,” she murmured against my lips before catching them in hers. I couldn’t have agreed more as I took in our little girl. I pushed Sara’s hair back off her face as she watched me with an overwhelming love in her beautiful blue eyes, eyes that I see every single day in my daughter. “Go tell them we have a little girl before they bust the doors down,” she told me, referring to my whole family who stood right outside the door, eager to know if they had a niece or nephew.

  She ripped her eyes away from mine and focused them back on our little girl. I smiled and took it all in while taking a mental of the image of the sight before me. I never wanted to forget that moment. I ducked out the doors to tell my brothers and my little sister that the first Waters’ niece was just brought into the world.

  We cheered and hugged and I got my ass straight back in the room as quickly as possible.

  Only things had changed.

  My daughter was no longer on my wife’s chest.

  My wife was no longer smiling with love at her newborn baby.

  The doctor was no longer stitching her up.

  The room was a flurry of chaos.

  I ran over to Sara and practically shook her. “Why isn’t she awake?” I demanded of the doctor.

  He ignored me as he worked furiously on my wife’s insides. “She’s hemorrhaging,” he said to a nurse before she pressed something on the wall. Before I knew it, an alarm was sounding throughout the whole maternity ward. Nurses and doctors flew around the room while my daughter was rushed out the doors.

  Nothing mattered to me in that moment but Sara. I ignored it all and focused on my wife. I shook her shoulders. “Wake up, babe,” I pleaded with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, a feeling I still remember to this day. “Sara? Open your eyes.”

  She didn’t move.

  “We’re losing too much blood,” the doctor had said.

  “What’s going on?” I demanded of anyone who would listen.

  “Get him out of here,” the doctor ordered.

  Hands started pulling at me, but I refused to move. Like hell was I going to leave my wife’s side. “Sean?” someone had said. “You need to wait outside.”

  Refusing to leave, I eventually had another woman gra
bbing at me and together they were able to haul me out the door and slam it shut in my face.

  I don’t remember a damn thing that happened after that. All I know is that when I went back in that room, my world shattered. I saw my wife’s lifeless body on the table with pools of blood on the floor.

  I think I screamed or maybe I cried. All I knew was that my wife was gone.

  She’d left me and my life has never been the same since.

  Every day without her is a challenge.

  I need her here to tell me what to do. Am I doing the right thing with Georgia? Am I raising her the way she wanted? Have I given her the life that she would have wanted for her daughter?

  Fuck, Sara, please come back to me. I hate that her last day on earth was during a torturous labor, but I’m happy that she had the chance to meet her daughter. It just kills me that she doesn’t get to raise her and that Georgia is growing up without her mother. Fuck, we need her here.

  I’ve been a shell of the man I used to be. Without Georgia, I don’t know how I would have gotten past it. Georgia is my absolute world, yet every time I look at her, it kills me. She’s the spitting image of her mother and has the same sarcastic attitude as well. She has the same strawberry blonde hair, the same soft curls, the same big blue eyes, and she’s even starting to get a few little freckles, the same way Sara had.

  I love her so much and I can honestly say that Georgia saved my life. I can’t wait to see the young woman she will grow into. I just hope I’m raising her right and that she aspires to be as amazing as her mother was.

  I hope that one day, she’ll find a love like we had and she’ll know the joy of raising a child. I just wish she never has to experience the pain of raising one by herself.

  A coughing fit takes over the silence in the room and my eyes are instantly ripped away from the photograph as I fly to my feet. I sit Georgia up and she cries at the intrusion of her sleep, though it doesn’t last long as she struggles to take a breath with her lungs screaming for Ventolin.

  “Shhh,” I soothe as I reach across and grab her inhaler. I place the inhaler to her lips and she instantly breathes in the Ventolin with slow deep breaths, something that’s become routine over the past couple of weeks.

  Fuck. There’s nothing worse than listening and watching your only child struggle for breath. And the fact that the Ventolin is something that my three-year-old has become used to, kills me. No child should get used to something like that.

  I place the inhaler back on her bedside table as she climbs into my lap with tears in her eyes. She snuggles into me and I wrap my arms around my beautiful girl. “Daddy,” she whimpers.

  “You’re ok, baby girl,” I soothe as I rock us back and forth trying to help her get back to sleep. I can never leave her. If I wasn’t there and she had an attack... fuck, I can’t even think about what could happen.

  She cries in my arms and I try my best to calm her down. The asthma attacks scare the living shit out of her and rightly so. She’s too young to understand what’s actually happening and the dangers of it, but she knows she doesn’t like it and she knows it scares the absolute shit out of me.

  She’s the perfect little daddy’s girl. She’s just as attached to me as I am to her. She’s my world, just as I am hers and I would never have it any other way… apart from Sara.

  I tell Georgie about her mommy every single day. I know she doesn’t have a chance in hell of remembering her, but at least she can know her through me. There are photos of Sara all over the house. From our wedding day, from when we first got together in high school to when she was pregnant with Georgie, and of course, my absolute favorite, the photo of Georgie on Sara’s chest with her arms cradled around her protectively as we welcomed her to the world.

  Georgia eventually calms down and her tears run dry. “You ok, baby?” I ask as a yawn rips through her.

  “Yes, daddy,” she tells me as she reaches across for her water bottle.

  I help her to reach it and place it back down on the table once she’s demolished the entire thing. She’s hit with another yawn and snuggles in closer.

  I sing her Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, the way I knew Sara would have if she was here now and she eventually falls back to sleep. I slide down in her bed and prop my head up under my arm with my daughter snuggled in close, knowing that tonight is going to be another sleepless night.

  If another attack happens, I’ll be rushing her straight down to the hospital for the fourth time this month. This is getting ridiculous. There must be something more I can do for her.

  She’s asleep for at least a half an hour when the sheets become very warm and very wet. Great, she’s wet her pants. I should have known better than to let her drink so much water, especially when we’re right in the middle of toilet training.

  I can only imagine the perfect little smirk Sara would have given me if she were here now.

  For the fourth time tonight, I wake my daughter. I get her cleaned up and into new pajamas before stripping her bed and throwing the wet sheets in the washing machine. Ten minutes later, I’m in my own bed with Georgie wrapped around me.

  I start on Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star again and sigh in relief when she finally falls into a deep sleep with even, steady breaths, allowing me the chance to finally get some rest.

  Chapter 2

  Gigi

  I am exhausted.

  I fall down into the nurse’s couch as I wait for my best friend to finish her shift. Mine was supposed to be over three hours ago and I’m only just finishing now. It’s been a huge day on the maternity ward. We’ve delivered eight babies, three of which turned into emergency Caesareans, two were elected water births leaving the other three normal, and mostly easy, apart from the lady who was screaming from the second she walked in and wouldn’t give in until the baby was out.

  I pull my phone out and send a quick text to Mel who works as a nurse in the pediatrics ward.

  Gigi – I’m finished for the day. How are you going?

  She texts back almost instantly.

  Mel – Just finishing up now. Be there in 10 minutes.

  Thank God. All I can think about is getting home and crashing. It’s been a massive week filled with extra shifts, new babies, screaming mothers and everything gross that goes along with being a midwife.

  I put my feet up on the couch and close my eyes as I wait for Mel to show up.

  True to her word, ten minutes later, the door is flung open before my best friend comes strutting in looking way too chirpy after the twelve hour shift we’ve both endured.

  “You ready?” Mel asks as she goes to her locker and grabs her handbag before flinging it over her shoulder.

  I jump up onto my sore feet and grab my bag off the floor. “Hell, yeah,” I smile as we walk out the door together. We head out to the staff parking and collapse down into my beat up car, thankful that we both have the weekend off.

  “I heard you had an exciting day,” Mel grins as I start up my car and back out of my spot.

  “You heard about that, did you?” I cringe.

  She lets out a booming laugh as she searches for some music to play. “How could I not?” she says. “Is it true though? The newbie spilled the piss bag all over you?”

  “Shut up,” I groan, confirming what she already knows to be true. “I got rushed straight into a C-section after so I didn’t even get to shower first.”

  “Ewww,” she say, scrunching up her face in disgust.

  “Tell me about it,” I say as I pull up at the liquor store for our traditional Friday night drink. “It was nearly an hour before I could get cleaned up.”

  “That’s the beauty of nursing,” Mel say as we get out of the car. We enter the liquor store and Mel looks down at the baskets, probably wondering if we’ll need one for this particular shopping trip. “How messy are we planning on getting?” she questions.

  “Depends if you have any plans for tomorrow,” I murmur as I begin searching the aisles and come across the vodk
a and baileys, then start debating with myself over which one I’d prefer.

  Mel grabs the basket before her and practically skips to catch up with me. “My only plan is nursing a hangover.”

  “Excellent,” I say before leaning down and grabbing both bottles. “Then we’ll be needing both of these.” I tell her as I place them in the basket.

  “Good thinking,” she chuckles as she heads round the other side of the store to grab a bottle of juice. We throw in a few extra odds and ends and head over to the checkout before dashing across the road to the pizza place and ordering take out.

  Twenty minutes later, we push through the door to our small apartment and come crashing down on the couch. Mel and I have been living together since we we’re both newbies at the hospital, both fumbling around like idiots hoping we didn’t kill anyone. We both started in the emergency room and since then have gone our separate professional ways.

  Mel absolutely adores children, hence why she works in the pediatric ward, and while I love kids too, I can’t go past newborns. They’re my weakness with their tiny little toes and fingers. Oh gosh, they’re beautiful. It’s a real shame I can’t find anyone to have them with.

  Me and boys simply just don’t mix. Every guy I have ever dated has turned out to be a complete twat. First, there was Johnny, my high school sweetheart who wasn’t so much of a sweetheart after I caught him screwing our science teacher in the backseat of his shit box car. Then there was the string of guys through college who were only interested in sex. Then came the star of my devastations, my ex, who tried to climb into bed with Mel, seconds after being with me. Like, seriously? Did he honestly think he could get away with that shit?

  So here we are, two very single ladies, scarfing down pizza on a Friday night, absolutely wasted. Sure, we could go out to a bar to try and find the loves of our lives, or we can sit here get shit faced with our feet up. Yeah, I know which option I’m taking.

  “Oh,” Mel gasps breaking me out of the thoughts of my failed love life. She jumps off the couch and dashes around our apartment searching for her handbag. She finds it by the front door and begins shuffling through it until she pulls out a little piece of paper.