Conception (The Wellingtons #4) - Tessa Teevan Page 0,1

I was never that lucky. When Andi’s concerned face enters my vision, I close my eyes for a quick moment, grateful that all my kids, no matter how grown, still call this house their home. Because if these are my last moments, my last memories, I’m comforted in the fact that this house is filled with my boys, their wives, and an ever-growing brood of Wellington children I haven’t had enough time to spoil.

At the same time, it’s the fact they’re all here that makes me want to stay that much more. Because even though I made countless mistakes as a parent, my sons make up the other half of my world, and life without them wouldn’t have been worth living. I wasn’t always the father I should have been, and though I’ve spent the last five years making up for it, it hasn’t been enough. I’m not sure it ever will be.

Branson, the headstrong chip off the old man’s block who was always there, yet for some reason, I couldn’t see the man he’s become even though he’s exactly like me—for better or worse. From the day he was born, I loved him more than life itself. They say you don’t know love until you meet your firstborn, and it’s true. I knew I loved Amelia. I hadn’t known how much more my heart would expand until the first time I heard Branson cry. I spent my life molding him into the man I wanted him to be. Who I thought he should be. Never once did I realize how hard I was pushing—or that some part of me was trying to make up for the fact that he didn’t have my name. Far too late, I learned what it’d done to him, and to this day, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven myself. I haven’t had enough time.

Knox, my namesake and the son I lost for nearly a decade because of my own foolishness and pride. I don’t know if I’ve ever hurt Amelia the way I did when I pushed our son away, and I haven’t had the time to make it up to her. To him. He’s back in my life, as my son, because he found what I did: the love of a good woman. I haven’t had enough time.

And my youngest boy, Cohen, the one son I didn’t seem to screw up, though I’m pretty sure I can thank my wife for that. I’d nearly ruined two sons. She wasn’t letting me ruin her baby boy. I certainly haven’t had enough time with him.

Through it all, she’s stood by side. She’s been my rock, my lifeline, my everything even when I was too stubborn to see it. I haven’t had enough time.

I haven’t had the time to make amends. I need more time. I need more…

I love my boys. But as darkness envelopes me, it’s Amelia I see.

Always.

Only ever Amelia.

It’s true that Amelia and I didn’t always have it easy. In fact, I fucked up royally along the way. But now that death seems to be knocking on my door, I see beyond all my regrets, and not a single dreadful memory lingers. Because while those moments mattered and helped shape who I’ve become today, those aren’t the memories that give me the desire to live. Instead, flashing before my eyes are a lifetime’s worth of memories of my wife, my sons, and my entire family who’s loved me through it all.

I can die a blessed and happy man.

Just not today.

Summer 1980

A FEROCIOUS BURST OF LIGHTNING flashes across the ominous Tennessee sky. Thick, swirling clouds blacken to the point it could be the middle of the night instead of early afternoon. I brace myself for the impending crash that’s never far off from Mother Nature’s incandescent bolts of fury. I squeeze my eyes shut, practice my breathing, and count slowly, waiting for the explosion.

It wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always have this fear. When I was a little girl, before I learned the terror thunderstorms could bring, my meteorologist dad made it a game. He taught me to see the beauty in lightning, enjoy the crescendo of thunder. I can’t begin to count how many nights I spent drifting off to sleep to the lullaby of raindrops. The louder, the better.

The nights with the thunderstorms became my favorite moments with Dad. We’d sit out on the covered porch, with me on his lap in his favorite old rocking chair. On occasion, Mom would