Bad Boy's Baby (53 page)

Why the hell was I at the mansion? I was goddamned lucky I didn’t kill anyone on the drive over. My hotel had black-out curtains and enough whiskey to dull every pain. But Shay called, and I came running, like a damned masochist who needed his balls smashed one last time.

What the hell did she want from me? She acted like she wanted me gone, so I left. Then she summoned me back to
talk
.

Nothing to talk about. She only had to answer one question.

Did she fucking want me or not?

Apparently, it was a harder question than I thought. Shay acted distant. She hid something, and it wasn’t that she desperately loved me.

If she didn’t trust me enough to reveal her secrets, then why would I tell her about my failed physical?

I blamed Shay for my misery, but it wasn’t her fault. In my fucking shame, I lied to her about the doctor’s verdict. I was too goddamned scared to tell her the truth, too scared she wouldn’t give me a reason to stick around. Shay guarded herself with an emotional mine-field. Stepping on an IED once was enough.

I could tell her I loved her. I could tell her I’d stay with her.

I could tell her my headache was so excruciating all I wanted was to lay in a darkened room in her arms and wait for the pain to finally kill me.

Who the hell know what she’d do then. If she’d care. Shay didn’t seem the
family
type unless she was obsessing over me being her step-brother.

Why even bother?

I grabbed a duffle bag and threw my clothes inside. My time in the service meant I packed light. Most of my real shit was in storage. Shay never asked. She assumed I looked for a free ride. The easy way out. A money-grab.

She even didn’t try to love me. She fought it with every beat of her heart and did her best to think the worst of me.

I thought pretty fucking low of myself too. Didn’t need her disappointment to double it.

I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder, pocketed my phone and keys, and headed out the back staircase.

Shay, of course, found me in the kitchen.

And, God, did she look stunning.

Either my vision blurred or Shay stood in a halo of gold. The black cocktail dress clung to her curves, and her rich, beautiful skin begged for a trail of kisses along the soft darkness. The neckline plunged low, just enough to tease the sweet swell of her breasts.

Breasts that looked plumper, more tempting than I remembered.

Fuck. The bounce of her chest reminded me of what I’d miss when I walked out the door. Her quick smile would make me regret leaving.

“I didn’t think you’d show,” she said.

“I got your text.”

For a split second, a burst of gratitude gentled her. It disappeared as she glanced over my jeans.

“You aren’t dressed!” Shay started to pace the kitchen. I assumed she hid from her guests. “We’re supposed to be all fancy.”

Her asshole friends tried to make amends by throwing her a formal dinner party—even if Shay paid for it all. They hired a party planner to organize cocktails, entertainment, menus, all the bullshit that came from the money Shay never wanted to acknowledge.

She had her hair, makeup, and nails done for the event. Her ebony curls fell over her shoulders and down her back. Her lips puffed, begging for a kiss. She was the most beautiful, stunning woman I never met, and I walked away from her. From happiness and pleasure and every chance I had at finding a life beyond the service.

What the hell was wrong with me?

Why didn’t she want me?

“I’m not staying.” My voice raged in my ears, too loud for me to handle. I shook my head. It didn’t help clear the ache or the ringing. “I’m out.”

Shay groaned. She leaned over the island in the kitchen, pushing away a platter of prosciutto wrapped melon that apparently disgusted her.

“Zach, I told them you’d be here. They wanted to meet you.”

She didn’t get what I said, but I couldn’t decipher what she wanted. Why the fuck was everything so
loud
? Clatters. Crashes. Laughter from the front room.

“You have to meet them,” she said. “It’ll look rude if you don’t.”

“Bullshit.” My voice rasped. “You want me here because you couldn’t deal with them alone in your big mansion where you fuck your step-brother.”

“Real classy, Zach. It isn’t about that.”

“Like hell.”

She eased away from the food. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You tell me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She crossed her arms, like it’d protect her or something. All it did was push those beautiful breasts higher. “Christ, you’ve been acting so weird. First you storm out of the house for a
week
with no contact, and now you come back to piss with me?”

“I’m just realizing a few
shings
.” Did I
slur
? What the hell? I cleared my throat. “
Things
. I’m figuring shit out.”

“Zach, is that your luggage?”

“Yeah.”

Her voice caught. “Are you…leaving?”

Like it mattered. Like it wasn’t what she already wanted.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere.”

I didn’t care where it was, so long as I got away from the bright lights and the echoing ring blasting through my ears. I rubbed my forehead. It didn’t help.

 “But…” She kicked the door closed as laugher from the parlor flooded in. It picked at my head—tiny needles imbedding in my skull and breaking off. Better than the usual vice that crushed me. “I know we’ve had a rough week—”

“A rough week? Shay, for Christ’s sake, we’ve never had a
good
week.”

“That’s not true.”

“I’m not dealing with this anymore. You never wanted me here. You never wanted me to have the money. You never wanted to fall in love with me. So that’s it.” I held her stare as the tears crossed her cheeks. Oh fuck. Each drop burnt through
me
. “I’m out. Done. Take the mansion. It’s yours. Take the inheritance. I’ll sign it over to you.”

“Zach—”

“All I wanted was a shot with you.” I rubbed my eyes. Nothing helped the pain and now my fucking heart broke on top of it. “I fucking love you, Shay. But if you
need time
or
have to think about it
, then I got my answer. Enjoy your house. Enjoy your money.”

“Zach, you don’t understand.”

I pushed away from the island. Mistake. The walls bent and the floor buckled. I stumbled. Shay rushed forward to steady me. I didn’t need her help. Just waited for the ear-piercing ringing to stop echoing in my goddamned brain.

I blinked. It didn’t clear my vision. Shay was a dark shadow against a burst of light.

Something was wrong.

She gripped my arm, her voice sounded hollow and distant.

“Zach, please. I’m scared. You have to hear me out.”

Too late. I tried to understand. She didn’t want to open up to me.

I pulled away. She didn’t let me go. 

“I’m
pregnant
!”

Now the ground really did slip from under me. I grabbed the island again. My heart thumped too hard, too fast, too out of rhythm.

“You’re…”

“Oh, my God, Zach, your nose.”

Shay rushed to find a napkin. Blood immediately stained through the cloth.

“Are you okay?” Her voice trembled. “Talk to me, Zach. What’s wrong?”

Pregnant.

She was
pregnant
.

And I was leaving her.

Her exact fucking fear.

I had to right it. I had to tell her I was sorry. I had to
hold
her.

Pregnant
.

I couldn’t talk. My body seized tight.

One hell of a way to react when I was told I’d be a father. First the scariest and greatest fucking words I’d ever heard in my life, and then the reaper decided to take what he forgot to grab in Iraq.

The crippling pain stole my vision, speech, tightened and ruined every muscle in my body.

“Zach!” Shay grabbed me as I fell. “Zach, what’s wrong—”

Then the world turned dark, and I was lost in the peace after the IED once again.

Only this time, I wasn’t alone.

Shay was there.

And in her?  A baby.
My
baby.

I hoped I lived to see him.

Chapter Twenty One - Shay

I hoped I wouldn’t step foot in a hospital for nine months.

Hell, I only just allowed myself to imagine what it’d be like to even
have
a baby.

I finally let myself think of holding her. Nursing her. Nudging Zach in the middle of the night when it was his turn to soothe her as she started to cry. I wanted nothing more than to see my powerful SEAL loaded with tattoos cradle a tiny bundle in his thick arms.

The thought put a lump in my throat and a curl in my toes.

If it could come true.

A week passed since I realized I was pregnant. Seven days since I argued with Zach. Five days since I worked up the courage to look through pictures my father left. Four days since I tried to contact him.

And two hours since he collapsed in the kitchen.

I never meant to keep the baby a secret from him.

The fantasy of Zach earning his baby’s smile was replaced with a new fear. Skyping with him whenever he was at liberty to call home. Going into labor alone. Dreading any knock at the door that might be the news any army family feared.

I could buy a lot of things for my child. The best clothing, education, opportunity.

But a father was priceless.

All the more reason my heart shattered in the waiting room.

Zach fell limp in my arms. Seizured. Bled so much from his nose, Azariah forced me to change before driving me behind the ambulance to the hospital. I wore Zach’s shirt and a pair of sweat pants with formal heels. Azariah promised to get me something to eat from a restaurant across the street.

I couldn’t think of hiding anything now. I managed a classy and dignified
I’m pregnant, I want ice-cream
between sniffles.

Azariah didn’t question it. She brought me ginger ale, a hot fudge sundae, and bitched out the nurse who claimed she was on
break
when she refused to find information on Zach.

I didn’t even know what happened to him?

He was fine one minute…and then…

Two hours in the hospital with no news drove me crazy. Between the nerves, morning sickness, and ill-fated citrus bruschetta hors d’oeuvres, I should have waited for the doctor while sitting on the floor in the nearest bathroom stall.

It was a strange thing for my worst fear to come to life.

I wasn’t ready for this. Getting pregnant should have been my biggest shock for the week. It was supposed to be a woman’s most crazy revelation. Instead, life threw me for a loop then, mid-way through the ride, crashed my ass down.

Azariah forced me to sit instead of pacing, but I couldn’t handle her hovering. Now wasn’t the time to piece together just how, where, why I ended up pregnant. She was a big girl. She’d figure it out. I sent her back to the house to clean up, glad for the quiet.

Another hour passed and nothing from the nurses or doctors. I bumbled through my purse for change before discovering the vending machine took credit cards. Halloween came early.

…Until the machine stuck and I hulk-raged to dislodge the candy bar and scared a passing orderly. Was it too soon to get an epidural?

I returned to my perch with a Kit-Kat I purchased and a Milky Way that dropped in its own terror. I didn’t open either. I sipped my ginger ale but regretted giving up coffee because the internet said it might be dangerous for the baby.

Were mocha frappachinos bad too? I mean, the baby needed to get used to it sooner rather than later. Her first words would probably be
double pump
.

No.

Her first word would be
Dada
.

I wouldn’t let it happen any other way.

“Shay?”

I bolted to my feet, punting the ginger ale into an unfortunate plant. I turned, candy bars in hand. Gretchen met me with a cautious smile.

“Hey,” she said. “How is he?”

Oh, guilt tasted about as good as morning sickness. I hated how I’d acted around Zach’s pretty blonde doctor, but she didn’t hold a grudge. She hugged me.

“I haven’t heard anything yet,” I swallowed. “He didn’t look...”

“What happened?”

“He just…fell. He slurred his words, and he kept rubbing his head. Then, boom. He went down. I tried to protect him when he…he…seizured. I don’t know anything else.”

Gretchen nodded. “I did my residency here. I’ll find someone who still owes me a favor and ask about Zach.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry,” she said. “He’s a fighter. He’ll pull through.”

Pull through
what
? What the hell could completely level a six foot four, two hundred and fifty pound beast of pure muscle?

Gretchen snuck through the nurses’ station and ducked though the double doors. She disappeared into the mess of swirling white coats and dashing nurses.

It took her a half an hour to return, and I was proud that I only got sick once. Somehow she knew. She offered me a package of saltines and some apple juice.

“Did you find him?” I asked.

She sighed before sitting. “Yeah, I did. The doctor will be out to talk with us.”

“And?” I didn’t like her delay. My throat closed. “Gretchen?”

“He had some lasting effects from the head trauma he sustained in combat. An un-ruptured aneurysm. He’s heading in for surgery now.”

“And that’s…going to fix him, right?”

Gretchen nodded, pulling her hair back into a ponytail from a scrunchie over her wrist. “They caught it before any serious damage, they think. We’ll know more once he’s in recovery.”

“Oh.”

Gretchen’s sigh was a polite frustration. “I
told
him to get checked out. I didn’t like the headaches. But Zach was too stubborn. Didn’t want anything to prevent him from getting back into the SEALs.” She grunted. “I’m surprised the damn thing didn’t rupture when the doctor denied him the waiver.”