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Authors: Brenda Rothert

BOOK: Captive
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Her voice was tight, on the verge of tears, and Dale put an arm around her shoulders.

“No. We went to sleep last night, and a couple hours later, she woke up with blood … everywhere.”

Lynn closed her eyes, the image clearly shaking her.

“I wrapped her up in a blanket and we came here in an ambulance.”

Lynn’s face changed, her brows furrowing. She pulled me in close for a hug. “I’m sorry, honey. So sorry. Thank you for taking care of her and being with her. It must’ve been hard for you.” She squeezed me and my throat tightened. I just nodded, not trusting my voice.

Dale rested a hand on my shoulder, looking like he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words.

I cleared my throat and pulled back from Lynn. “I’m glad you guys are here. I would’ve called sooner, but I couldn’t. Kate needed me beside her.”

Lynn nodded and offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It was hard to let go of my only baby, but I couldn’t have asked for a better husband for her.”

“I’m the lucky one,” I said. “Will you sit here with her while I go call my coach real quick?”

Lynn nodded and took my seat and I stepped into the hallway to call Jack.

“Yeah?” he said in greeting. He was a get to the point kind of guy.

“Uh, Jack, hey. I’m not gonna make this road trip.”

“Are you dead? Are you calling me from purgatory? Because that’s the only way I’ll allow you to miss this trip. Unless you’ve had a death in the immediate family. Oh, Jesus, Ryke, you haven’t … ?”

He’d been the one to give me the news about the death of my first wife, Maggie, and was likely remembering that conversation.

“No. I mean, not exactly. Look, my wife’s in the hospital, and I’m not leaving her.”

There was a pause, and he sighed. “Of course. I understand. Is there anything you need?”

“No. Just privacy. I don’t want everyone to know Kate’s in the hospital, okay? She’s gonna be fine, but she doesn’t need the other guys’ wives calling her and asking what’s up.”

“Sure. Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.”

“If she’s better, I might catch up with you later on the trip,” I said.

“Okay. Take care, Ryke.”

We hung up, and I looked into the open hospital room. Lynn sat clutching Kate’s limp hand in hers, and Dale stood behind the chair with his hands on her shoulders.

Everything about our relationship had been outside my control. I’d fallen for her hard, unable to resist the sweet, smart, cautious and irresistibly beautiful blonde who walked into my life without warning. When I proposed to her just a few months after we decided to give a relationship a try, I hadn’t had a choice. I needed to be with her in every way possible.

Usually, the dizzy powerlessness I felt for Kate was crazy fucking good. But looking at her solemn, sleeping face, the sense of helplessness that rose in my chest was deep, dark and suffocating.

***

 

The rhythm of Ryke’s light snoring drew me awake and I reached for him. Sometimes if I snuggled against him and happened to kick him lightly, he’d stop snoring.

But my arms found nothing, and I opened my eyes and saw him sleeping in a chair next to me, face down on the bed. The horror of our trip to the hospital came flooding back, and my head fell back against the pillow. The memory of warm, wet blood between my legs was still fresh. So was the image of Ryke laying a big, powerful arm across my chest to hold me down while the doctor worked on me.

He’d spoken against my lips, his words a soft murmur only I could hear. Telling me it was okay, that he loved me. Over and over.

One hand flew over my stomach and the other landed on Ryke’s shoulder. The firmness of the broad expanse of muscle there was reassuring.

He lifted his head up, looking groggy. Dark circles stood out under his eyes and his black hair spiked up in a few spots.

“Hey,” he said, laying a palm on my thigh.

“The baby’s gone.” It wasn’t a question, yet I clung to a shred of irrational hope that he’d tell me the baby was okay. When he nodded, I covered my face with my hands, my stifled cry the only sound in the silent hospital room. My tears weren’t just sad, they were also angry at my foolish hope that this time would be different.

My grandma speculated after I lost the first baby that maybe I was barren. My mom rushed to my defense, telling her mother to shut the hell up and show some sensitivity. And then she’d said women lost babies and went on to have more all the time. Her inflection had said
So There. Kate may just do this yet.

Point – grandma. More like game, set, match. It was over. I hadn’t even been sure about trying this time, but my stupid sentimentality had convinced me. I remembered the exact moment Ryke and I made the decision.

 

We were at the downtown loft of Ryke’s teammate Vic and his wife Dawn to meet their new baby girl, Nadia. She was a bright-eyed eight-week-old. Dawn settled her into my arms, and I noticed Ryke watching me. Our eyes just met for a second, but the tenderness I saw in his made my heart skip a beat.

I cooed and rocked and even fed the baby, and Vic insisted Ryke hold her before we left. Ryke made a show of flat-out refusing, saying he’d probably drop her on her head or make her cry, but Vic ignored him.

The moment I saw that tiny baby in my husband’s large, powerful arms, my reservations about getting pregnant again disintegrated. Worry? What worry? Ryke was clumsily rocking a swaddled baby back and forth and telling her she’d be a star figure skater.

I was ready to procreate in the backseat of the car on the way home. But I couldn’t say that – could I? Ryke would be down for sex for sure, but he’d be blown away by me wanting to get pregnant. And what if he wasn’t ready? We’d only been married for five months. Of course he wasn’t ready. It was way too soon.

On the drive home from Vic and Dawn’s, awkward silence hung in the car. It was one of those times when I wanted to say something, but I was hoping Ryke would say something first.

“Cute baby,” he said, glancing at me from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah.” I couldn’t help my wistful smile. I still carried the powdery scent of Nadia on my shirt.

“You looked … really comfortable holding her. Happy, you know?”

“I was. And I think I fell a little more in love with you when I saw you with her. But I know it’s early for us—”

He cut me off, his caramel eyes serious. “It’s not. Not if you want it.”

“We have to both want it,” I said.

“I do.”

“You want to have a baby?”

“I was hoping you’d handle that part.” He grinned.

“Ah. So you just want to make a baby.”

“No. I mean, yeah, I do. I’ll make sure your eggs have plenty of sperm to choose from.”

“Ryke!”

He laughed, a low sound that made his eyes dance. “Don’t you think multiple loads would maximize our chances?”

“Multiple loads?”

“Of my man juice.”

I half-laughed and half-groaned at his playful expression. “Baby, this is about a lot more than proving you can impregnate me.”

“I know. But I’m ready. If you are, I mean. It’s like us getting married. I just knew, you know? That you were my girl, and I wanted to make it official as soon as we could. And I’d love to start a family.”

“I think … I would, too. So … should I stop taking my pills?”

“I say you stop taking them and we fuck like rabbits.”

Such a man.

But that’s what we’d done. We’d made a baby.

 

Ryke rested his head in my lap, letting me cry, comforting me just by being close. I ran my fingers through his hair, letting out a deep breath. I had to remember I wasn’t the only one grieving. The expression of pure joy on his face when I’d told him I was pregnant went even deeper than the way he’d looked at me when we exchanged wedding vows. He’d known a part of him was growing inside me. Together we’d made a baby who was half him and half me. And he’d lost that baby, just as I had.

“Can you get in bed with me?” My voice sounded small. He dove for me, pausing at the last second.

“Do you hurt anywhere?” he asked.

“Not my body.” I sounded choked, and his face contorted into an agonized expression. He moved back the sheet and went to climb in, stopping when I put a hand up.

“Wait. I think there’s blood,” I said. “I don’t want you to get it on—”

“I don’t give a shit, Kate. Your blood’s my blood.” He got in and pulled me into his arms and I sank against his wide chest.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, hot tears climbing up my throat again.

Ryke’s voice was fierce when he spoke. “Don’t say that. Never say that. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I ever wanted you to even try. It was selfish of me.”

“I was the one who wanted it.”

“I did, too.”

I cried for the second baby I’d never meet. “I wanted that baby so much.”

“I know.” Ryke held me close and I felt wetness on my temple. He was crying, too. “So did I. But we’ll be okay, baby. We’ll be okay. I’ve got you, and that’s all that really matters.”

I let the next words tumble out while I had the courage to say them. “I don’t think I can do it again, Ryke. I don’t—”

“No, I can’t do it again, either. That’s not even an option. Right now we need to just get through this, okay? We’ll talk about other options later.”

I nodded against his chest, grateful he was doing the thinking for both of us. The emotions swirling inside me were all I had room for right now. The blood and the screaming and the overpowering sadness that wouldn’t dull no matter how hard I tried to force them to.

“I want my mom,” I said, slumping against Ryke.

“She’s out in the hall, I’ll get her.”

He got up from the bed and I couldn’t hold back my sobs. Even though I was a married 25-year-old woman, I needed my mom to tell me it would all be okay. My hopes of doing that for my own children were now crushed.

***

 

The young brunette nurse who pushed a wheelchair into my room did a double take when she saw Ryke standing by the window. He often had that effect on women — even me. My husband was tall, dark, muscled perfection.

Neither of us had slept well in the hospital bed, and I just wanted a long, hot shower and the comfort of home.

“I’ll be taking you down, Kate,” the nurse said. “You got all your discharge instructions?”

I nodded and she pushed the wheelchair to the bed. Ryke walked over and reached around my neck and under my legs to pick me up.

“I’m okay,” I said softly. “I can stand up.”

He picked me up anyway, his closeness reassuring me. After he settled me into the chair, the nurse looked from me to him.

“We’re meeting someone from the Admin department in the waiting room,” she said. “Then we’ll all go to the basement supply area. We can load you there.”

“Why don’t we just go out the door we came in?” I asked. Ryke looked down at me, his eyes brimming with concern.

“I don’t want to risk press.”

“No one even knows we’re here,” I said. The set of his jaw told me this was already decided.

“This is best, okay?” he said. “Just to be safe.”

I nodded. At this point, I didn’t care what door we went out of. I just wanted to get out. It was my second trip out of the maternity ward with empty arms. This time wasn’t easier and it wasn’t harder; I just had the same cold, empty feeling as last time. Different hospital, same story.

A deep man’s voice spoke to Ryke in the suck-up tone I knew well. “I’m a big fan, Mr. Ryker. We’ll make this as quick and easy as we can.”

I tried to signify indifference by not making eye contact. It worked; no one spoke to me. The nurse wheeled me onto the elevator and Ryke stood next to me. A dark SUV was waiting by the basement door we stopped at.

Ryke brushed everyone else off, leaving them at the door and walking me out. I sighed deeply, relieved when he closed his driver’s side door and put the vehicle in drive.

“Let’s get you home,” he said, placing his large palm on my thigh as he bent to read the signs directing him out of the underground garage. I took his hand in both of mine and squeezed it.

“You were supposed to fly out earlier,” I said, running my fingers over his much bigger ones.

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