Baller's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (12 page)

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

Skila

I turn
into Kiptyn’s drive, and the anxiety I have so far kept at bay comes flooding
back, turning my stomach into a swarm of nerves. I feel the bile rise and fight
every instinct to let it up and out. I’ve got to hold it together and follow
this through. I came here for answers, and I refuse to leave without getting
them, one way or the other. It's the least he owes me after the way he pursued
me relentlessly. Not that I regret letting him win me.

I don’t.

Swallowing
repeatedly, I follow the circular drive and come to a stop beside the flowing
fountain in the center, parking in the same spot my car was in yesterday before
I fled. Chris’s car is still here where it was last night, and I wonder for a
second where Kiptyn’s is. Closer to the front is another black car. It looks
like a Honda, but I don’t know cars that well, so it could easily be a
Lamborghini. Maybe Chris got someone to give him a ride to pick up his car. God,
I hope that’s what it is, even though I’d rather not have an audience here for
this conversation.

I check
the rearview mirror, adjusting my lipstick and tucking a stray curl behind my
ear. I’m procrastinating and I know it, but now that I'm here, I'm starting to
second-guess myself. What if the blonde is still here? What if they're upstairs
together right now? Surely she wouldn’t be. I mean, worst case scenario, even
if he did sleep with her last night, he always got rid of them before morning
light, right?

I rub my
hand along my stomach, and the contact gives me the boost of confidence I need
to get out of the car. I glance in the mirror one more time, noting the steel
determination in my eyes.
You’ve got
this, Sky.
It's now
or never.

I wipe
my hands along my jeans, trying to dry the constant moisture, but it only works
for a second and then they're soaking wet again. I’m at the steps now, and it
has just occurred to me that I don’t have a key. I left without anything last
night. Hopefully, the door is unlocked. Taking a deep breath, I reach forward
and grasp the handle and turn. The door swings open.

My heart
is beating so loudly that I can't hear anything past the beating in my ears. I
swallow again, choking down the ball of nerves, and shut the door behind me
with a gentle click. I pause at the base of the stairs, dreading what I may
find up there. I’m afraid to walk up the stairs, to the one place that brought
me so much happiness and joy in the past month, fearful that he shared it with
another woman. This is no way to live my life.

From
this day forward, I refuse to ever have to worry about this again. I'll tell
him how I feel and pray he can accept it, but I'll make certain he knows I’m
not anyone’s fill-in. He can either choose to be faithful to me or leave me to
go on my way. I refuse to warm his bed until he finds someone else he wants.

I hear
voices coming from the kitchen. Not just one, but two at least, and now my
anger spikes again. If that bitch is still here, I’m gonna kill him.

My heels
click down the hall, and I count the sounds to calm my raging pulse—ten,
eleven, twelve. “Kiptyn,” I call out and hope and against hope that he will
welcome me with nothing to hide. He doesn’t.

“Oh
shit. Sky, wait,” I hear him call to me, and my heart sputters in my chest.

That
bitch is here. I knew it. How could he do this to me? I know he’s coming for me
to try to intercede, so I cut through the dining room and enter the kitchen
from the other side, expecting to catch them off guard.

I wish I
hadn’t.

I wish I
had just stayed home this morning and left all this alone.

Nothing
I said to myself could have ever prepared me for the sight before me right now.

Sitting
at the bar, staring toward Kiptyn’s back, is my child’s father, Camryn, sitting
at the bar not even five feet from me. His back is still to me, but he senses
when I come into the room. I know, because he swivels around and stands so fast
he blurs before my eyes, or maybe he blurs because of the tears pouring down my
face.

His eyes
widen a fraction. I try to say something, but nothing comes out. Stars dance
across my vision. I hear Kiptyn calling my name, but I can’t call out to him.
Camryn just stares at me. He doesn’t move. His eyes don’t leave mine. I see a
thousand things pass behind them before he closes them down completely, and my
heart shatters for him. I can't even begin to fathom what he has been through
these past few months, and now he comes home to this.

Oh my God.

Every
single emotion I have felt over the last year comes crashing back into me like
a freight train, and I lose it. Charging after Camryn, I swing at him, hitting
him with everything I have in me. I punch and kick and slap and claw at him. I’m
angry and hurt and sad and happy. I can’t believe he’s back, and I’m pissed he
ever left.

“Why?”

“Why did
you leave?” I swing, hitting him across the face. He doesn’t try to stop me. He
takes every strike like he feels he deserves them as much as I feel the need to
give them.

“I hate
you. I hate you. Why did you leave? Why didn’t you call? Why?” I scream at him,
lashing into him over and over and over again.

Kiptyn
runs into the room and wraps his arms around me to pull me from Camryn, and
that’s when Camryn comes alive. As soon as Kip touches me, pulling me back,
Camryn stands and swings at Kip. Kip twists me out of the way, and I barely
avoid being hit by Cam’s fist, but Kip isn’t so lucky. Now the two brothers are
fighting, and I can’t stand it.

“Stop
it. Let him go!” I scream at Camryn, hitting him on the back as he leans over
Kip, trying to get a good hit on him. For a second, I think he forgets where he
is or what’s going on, because he turns to me and shoves me backward. I fly
across the room. My back hits against the island in the kitchen before I slump
to the floor, unable to move.

The
darkness closes in around me, claiming me as its own. It’s comfortable here.
I’m not lying in the kitchen floor of my boyfriend's house while his dead
brother’s baby grows inside of me. In the darkness, it's just me and it. It
carries me and coats me and loves me. Nothing can touch me here. Nothing can
hurt me. I want to stay here forever.

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Kiptyn

Fuck.

I didn’t
want Skila to find out this way. I wanted to have a minute to warn her or
prepare her, but she stormed into the kitchen, and all of my wants went out the
window as she crashed to the floor.

I’ve
never felt so helpless in my life. Watching her lie there motionless, once
again, except this time, she is swollen with child, and the way she hit . . .
fuck. Camryn stays by her side while I call an ambulance. They won’t be long.
It never takes them long to show up when someone with money calls, but if I had
been calling them when I was kid, ha. I'd be happy if they came at all.

Camryn
and I had just sat down in the kitchen when I heard the door. I had hoped she
would go upstairs first so I could at least brace him for what he was about to
see.

She
didn’t.

I could
see the betrayal in his eyes, and it cut me like a knife. I’d do just about
anything to erase that look from his face. To wash it away and go back to the
relief and joy he showed when I first opened the front door.

“Were
you going to tell me?” Camryn asks, looking down at Skila like she’s the most
beautiful thing in the world. She is, but I don’t want him looking at her like
that, even if she was his first.

“Yeah,
of course. It just happened, man.” He laughs at that. It's not a good laugh. It
sounds choked and forced.

“And the
baby?” he asks, and I freeze. I hadn’t thought about the baby. Shit.

“Yeah,”
I say. I don’t know what else to say.

“I might
be back from the dead, bro, but I still know how to count. It's mine, unless
you were fucking her while I was gone.”

“Fuck
you.”

It takes
everything inside of me not to step forward and take a swing at him for that
comment. I don’t care if my shoulder is fucked and I'd risk never playing
another game again. If he knew her at all, he would know she wasn’t that type
of girl. He glances back at me and notes my balled fist at my sides, clenching
and unclenching.

“I see,”
he says, and by the way he hangs his head, I think maybe he does. It can't be
easy for him, I know that. Hell, he thought he was in love with her before he
was sent away. Maybe he still does, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right to ask.
Growing up, my brother was my best friend. We shared everything. There wasn’t a
secret between us, and yet, at the moment, he could very well still be dead,
and I'd be able to talk to him more freely than I can right now.

The
paramedics knock on the door, and I rush to let them in. One of them comes
straight to Skila’s side.

“How
long has she been out?” he asks. I have no clue. I didn’t think to look at the
clock. I was more worried about the fact she hit ground and Camryn’s reaction
than I was to the time.

“Five
minutes, thirty-eight seconds,” Camryn states flatly.

“How far
along is she?”

“Twenty-seven
weeks,” I say smugly.

Another
paramedic enters the house with a gurney, and together, they lift her and lay
her on it. “Ok, Dad, you can ride with if you want.”

“Ok,” we
both reply at the same time, and the paramedic looks at us sharply. I can guess
what he must be thinking. I glance at Camryn and see his hardened scowl, ready
to fight me on this. He looks up at me then, and I can easily read his look. It
screams, ‘You owe me this’, and I may. I know he needs to talk to Skila, and he
would want to hear from her how things between us occurred.

“You go
ahead, bro. I'll catch up.” He nods as he jumps in the back of the ambulance.
The doors close and the lights switch on. I run back inside, tossing on some
shoes and a shirt, and then I’m back out the door, jumping in Chris’s car and
speeding toward the hospital.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

Skila

I wake
slowly, the fog lifting at its own leisurely rate. Bits and pieces of the
ordeal come back to me as I come to. Kiptyn and I had a fight. I left. Camryn
was home.

Camryn.

I
remember the look in his eyes when he saw me in the doorway. I don’t think I'll
ever be able to erase it from my mind.

A throat
clears across the room, and my eyes fly open. Camryn sits in a chair, his chin
propped on his fist, leaning forward on spread legs. He’s staring straight at
me. I wonder what he sees. Does he know the child in my womb is his? Is he
angry? Should I say something? I don’t have the slightest clue what to say to
him.

He looks
like hell, and I mean quite literally. I’d bet he’s lost at least fifty pounds.
His face is sunken in, causing his jaw and cheekbones to jut out sharply. There’s
a fresh scar across his right eyebrow, and judging from the way it looks, I
don’t think it was treated at a hospital.

His
clothes are clean, but even they look to be at least three sizes too big on
him. Physical attributes aside, there is something else different about him. He
feels darker. His aura or presence is haunting, and if I didn’t know him, I'd
be afraid to be alone with him right now. As it is, I’m mildly curious and a
little uncomfortable. I have questions I want to ask, and yet I know he does
too. What is the correct protocol here?

“Are you
happy?” he asks first, and I let the breath I’ve been holding escape in a rush.
It's a start, and I'll take it.

“Yes.
What happened to you?” I ask, because it's the only question I can think of at
the moment and I need the answer.

“Nothing,
everything, too much to ever talk about, so please don’t ask me to. I can't.” I
see him fighting to not close down, so I nod my head vigorously and change
questions.

“When
did you get back?”

“Yesterday.
I went to Atlanta . . . to find you, believe it or not, and then I came here to
Kip’s.” He laughs like he has told some amazing joke that only he gets.

“I’m
sorry,” I say, and I am. I’m sorry he didn’t trust me with me his real
identity, and he didn’t tell me what he did for a living. I’m sorry he didn’t
call me when he found out he was getting shipped out, and that he had to find
out all of this like he did. He nods his head in acceptance.

“Do you
love him?” His body is taut, waiting for my answer. I don’t know what he
expects, but I'll only tell him the truth.

“Yes.”
His entire body relaxes, and I wonder if maybe that was the answer he was
searching for.

“Good.
Good. He deserves someone like you, Sky. Take care of him. Take care of both of
them,” he says, gesturing toward my stomach. He stands to leave the room, but
before he goes, he walks to the side of my bed and leans in, kissing me softly
on the forehead and laying a packet of papers in my lap. I don’t know what to
make of his statement.

What did
he mean by ‘take care of them’? Is he leaving? Where is he going? Is he coming
back? What about Kip? This will destroy him. He cannot lose his brother again.

“I'll be
back for those in a little while. Get some rest. Your son needs it,” Camryn
says, walking out the door. My hand flies to my stomach.
My son?
I’m having a baby boy? Kiptyn is going to be so happy. I
can't wait to tell him.

I don’t
know how much time passes before I remember the pack of papers in my lap.
Lifting them, I pull the stack out and skim over the form on the top.

TERMINATION OF PARENTAL RIGHTS

Big,
bold letters stare me in the face. I feel all the blood leave my face as ice
floods my veins before I read through the rest of the papers. He is signing
over all of his rights to the baby so that Kiptyn can legally sign the birth
certificate. Tears well in my eyes. I can't decide if I'm happy or sad. Does he
not want my baby? I don’t understand it. Who would not want him?

Strong
arms wrap around me, and I know right away it’s Kip. I smell his masculine
scent of pine and fresh cotton. He strokes the hair from my face and whispers
sweet nothings in my ear.

“Have
you seen this?” I ask him on a sob, thrusting the papers toward his chest. He
takes them from me and sets them in a chair by the bed.

“Yeah,
baby. He told me he was doing it. As soon as he knew for sure the baby was his,
he contacted a lawyer and had the papers delivered straight to the hospital. I
tried to tell him to wait, but . . .”

“Why is
he doing this? I don’t understand, Kip.” I can’t calm down. I grab onto Kiptyn
and pull him to me. I cry uncontrollably into his shirt. My heart hurts so much
that I’m about to be sick.

“I don’t
know, baby. I think he was trying to make you happy. He’s not in a good place
right now, and he wants the baby to have the best chance it can have.”

“He,” I
say. Kiptyn looks at me with lost eyes before I realize what I’ve said. Every
time we’ve gone for a sonogram, he’s been hiding his junk between his legs so
we weren’t sure if it was a boy or a girl yet.

“He? It’s
a boy?” he asks, and I nod into his chest. “That’s great, Sky. Are you happy?”
I pull back and look at the man sitting on the bed next to me. He is asking me
the same question Camryn asked me not even ten minutes ago, and while the
answer is the still the same, we still have a lot of things we need to talk about.

“I was
very happy, Kip,” I say, starting a conversation neither of us wants to have.

He sighs
and turns away from me.
“I
know, Sky. A lot of shit has happened, hasn’t it?”

I get
the feeling he is headed in a totally different direction than I am. I grab his
hand and pull it into my lap, careful to not hurt his other arm. I can’t
believe he’s up and moving around with his injury. I’d be lying in the bed
whining like a little girl if it was mine.

“I
fucked up last night. I should have taken a cab home, but you should know
better than to think I’d bring some bitch home with me.”

Now it’s
my turn to hang my head in shame. I did know better, but my hormones and my
overactive imagination got the best of me.
He takes my chin in his hand, lifting my face to his as he
gazes into my eyes with his startling blue ones.

“Sky . . . baby, I would
never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”