Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (27 page)

I wrote the name
Ava
in the first name space and after a moment's hesitation, wrote the name
Katherine
in the middle name space.

"That's a beautiful name," my mom murmured to me as she leaned into my shoulder.

"Iz picked it out," I sucked in a deep breath and scrubbed my free hand across my eyes. "We never talked about middle names, but I think she'd be okay with Ava taking her mom's name too, right?"

My mom's face twisted and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep from crying again. "I think it's perfect."

"Right," I murmured, but I didn't really know who I was talking to right now. I was nodding, but I didn't know why. Nothing was right. I didn't know if it would ever be again.

After I wrote our names in the mother and father lines, that was it. I was done. Emotionally and physically spent.

"We got to hold her, Mom," I murmured hoarsely and I barely recognized the sound of my own voice as I gestured to my right hand, which had held the contents of all my hopes and dreams just less than a half hour ago. "She was so small, Mom. Her little head barely even came up to the end of my thumb and I..."

I trailed off, unable to force myself to say anymore. There was no point in relaying the gory details. It was already devastating enough on its own and my mom's arms enveloped me tight like I was 5-years-old again.

"I'm so, so sorry," she whispered in my ear. "What can I do? What do you need?"

I just shook my head and pulled away, running both hands through my tangled hair for lack of anything better to do. "There's nothing you can do. I just need some air."

"Okay," she nodded, eager to help, eager to come along, but that was the opposite of what I needed right now. "Let's go—"

"Mom, I just need to be alone for a second, okay?"

Her face fell and I scrambled to give her something to do.

"Why don't you go sit with her? She's gonna be sleeping for a while, but I don't want her to be alone any longer than she has to be."

That lifted some of the fog as my mom scurried off to let herself into Isabelle's room and I sighed heavily, scrubbing my face with my hands one more time before turning on my heel to head down the hallway.

I made it all the way to the nearest men's room. That was it.

Pushing through the door, I stalked around a moment, pacing the tiled floor and tearing my hands through my hair and I had a feeling the urge to hit something was just going to multiply as soon as the initial shock wore off. Because that's what I was really feeling right now: shock and complete disbelief. Fucking horror.

All I could think about was how she was in some box in some room of this hospital now. I'd never see her again. Never hold her again. Never watch her grow. Never see her laugh or smile. There was nothing I'd wanted more than to be that tiny baby's dad.

I pulled my hands through my hair and squeezed my eyes shut as the little control I had left faltered and tears tumbled down my cheeks.

Then my mind sifted through everything that had rained down on Isabelle at breakneck speed: the ATF, the club's suspicions, the break-in, Becca, school, our fight. Just one blow right after the other, with each one lined up to take its turn with me delivering the final death blow in getting my stupid, arrogant ass arrested.

All that stress...God, no wonder the baby didn't make it. The odds had been stacked against us before we'd really had a chance to get started.

And at the end of the day, the common denominator was me.

Every single thing that happened had my fingerprints all over it. If I'd never goaded Padilla, if I'd been smarter, if I'd listened, if I wasn't part of the club, maybe...

And here I thought there'd be no blowback.

This
was the consequence.
This
was the price I'd had to pay for my short-sighted, devil-may-care, shoot-first-ask-questions-later attitude toward just about everything in my life.

I could play the 'what if' game until I was blue in the face, but it still wouldn't change the fact that the only real reason Isabelle was lying in a hospital bed and our baby was lying dead in a box was because of me.

At some point, my shoulders shook with sobs and my hands gripped the edge of the sink until my knuckles turned white as I finally gave in. I couldn't handle this shit. I didn't know
how
to handle this shit. What was we supposed to do now? How did we even begin to move on?

I was no better than her piece of shit father. Always wreaking havoc, always leaving chaos in my wake. Unreliable and disappointing.

Maybe that ATF agent was right all along: maybe this life was just a bitter, fucking cycle. I might be going in for a couple years this time, but it could be longer next time and there
would
be a next time.

Isabelle would be a normal art student in Richmond if it wasn't for me and none of this would've ever happened to her. Her life would be so much better if I just wasn't in it and she deserved so much more than the lifetime of shit I had to offer. And then I heard Becca's bitter, spot-on voice in my ears and I shook my head.
Being with her doesn't make you a better person—it's just makes her a worse one.

As my legs gave out on me, I stumbled backward until my back hit the wall behind me and I sank down to the tiled floor, one arm folded across my knees while the other flew up to cover my face. The tears wouldn't stop and I didn't really care. It was all I could do just to keep myself sitting upright against the wall.

I was so lost in the grief, so carried away by the torrential waves crashing through me, that it took me a few moments to realize my mom had discreetly texted me to let me know the doctor needed to talk to me.

After shoving myself up to my feet and wiping my eyes one last time, I pushed through the bathroom door and headed back down the way I'd come before. Dr. Reynolds was already waiting for me right outside of Isabelle's room with his hand supportively on my mom's shoulder, but the better part of my attention fixed right on the door. It didn't matter if she slept through the next week, she needed to know I was right here in this with her.

Dr. Reynolds nodded to me politely and then over to my mom, who reached out to slip her fingers around my hand.

"I know how difficult tonight has been for you," Dr. Reynolds started slowly, genuine regret filling his quiet voice. "So I'll make this as brief as possible and then you can get some rest. I'd like to keep Isabelle overnight for observation. There's some bleeding that needs to be monitored and if it should get worse, it's better if she's already here so we can act quickly if needed."

All the blood drained from my face in alarm and the doctor jumped to explain.

"There's no need for immediate concern," he told me gently. "Given everything her body's been through, not to mention the emotional toll, I'd rather play it safe."

Dr. Reynolds paused for a brief moment to consult something on his chart and as I cast a sideways glance at my mom, I could see the visible relief cross her face. I didn't really understand everything the doctor had just said, and while bleeding seemed like something I
should
be worried about, if my mom's reaction was any indication, I would just have to take the doctor at his word.

"Lots of women go through this," Dr. Reynolds continued. "It's not uncommon, unfortunately, and those same women go on to have successful pregnancies afterward when they're ready. You're both young and healthy and you've got time on your side for that."

My heart plummeted at the doctor's words. There was no way he could possibly know that time, in fact, wasn't on our side. In two weeks, I'd have to go in front of a judge, plead guilty, and pray to all things holy the judge would throw a little mercy my way and accept my 12-18 months plea.

It wasn't likely.

If Isabelle and I were a normal couple in normal circumstances, we'd be able to start trying again when Isabelle was ready. Now, whenever that happened, I probably wouldn't be around anyway.

"Thank you for everything you've done tonight," my mom called out to the doctor in a quiet, somber voice.

I immediately extended my hand. "Yeah, thanks, doc."

Dr. Reynolds smiled weakly as he shook my hand. "You're welcome. I just wish I could've done more. One of the nurses can bring you the memory box whenever you want."

"I can stay the night with her, right?"

The thought of leaving Isabelle here alone tonight sent terror rippling down my spine and I squeezed my mom's hand searching for anything to make this easier. I never found it.

"Of course you can," Dr. Reynolds nodded.

When the doctor left and my mom left with plans to come back with a change of clothes for us and some food, all I wanted to do was just get her home. Right up until they pumped her with sleeping meds, she'd been trying so hard to to be strong.

And then I realized I'd been standing here like a zombie and that Isabelle had been alone for too long already. I needed to get to her; I needed to hold her; I needed to let her know she could cry and scream and throw things and do whatever else she needed to do.
 

I needed to hang onto her for as long as I possibly could.

So I creaked open the door, tip-toed to the bed as quietly as humanly possible, and crawled into the hospital bed with her.

.
     
.
     
.

Isabelle

I shifted uneasily in the hospital bed, wincing at the stiff soreness in my abdomen. Everything still felt foggy as my body slowly began to wake up again, but that glaring absence in my stomach wouldn't go unnoticed. Was it always going to hurt this much? Was I always going to feel so
empty
now?

Rough fingers moved gently through my hair and then I couldn't stop myself from shifting on the bed so I could really see him.

"Easy, Iz," Caleb murmured against my cheek. "You probably don't need to be moving around so much."

"It's okay," I winced a little and finally relented, letting him turn me until we were lying face to face on the bed.

"Hey," he smiled softly and moved forward just enough to kiss my forehead.

"Hi," I tried a smile, but it didn't feel right. "How long have I been out?"

"A couple hours. My mom was here before with some food and some clothes. She wanted to let us rest for a little while, but she'll be back."

Smiling was a wasted effort, so I opted to lean into him instead. The second my cheek made contact with his chest, my entire body convulsed with sobs. I just couldn't hold it in any longer. There was nothing that could stop it. Nothing that could make this go away, not even Caleb's tender touch or his gentle kisses in my hair.

The feel of his hands on me, in my hair, pulling me against him made me forget for just a moment. For that moment, it was just the two of us here, holding each other, and without the emotional baggage of this night. And then everything came rushing around me. The searing emptiness in my stomach, the agonizing pain, the anguish of what we'd lost tonight and another wave of sobs racked my body.

"I got you, Iz," Caleb whispered in my hair. "I got you."

My body just completely gave out on me now as tears pooled into Caleb's T-shirt and I was vaguely aware he seemed to have drawn me in deeper and somehow closer against him. All I could do was bury what was left of myself against him and allow him to catch me.

I didn't know how long we laid here wrapped around each other. The only things my mind allowed me to focus on were his gentle massaging into my hair, his lips pressed against my forehead, and the wetness on my cheeks. Slight tremors shook Caleb's body and it was then that I realized the moisture on my face and in my hair wasn't just from my grief. We were both suffering and in two weeks, we'd would both have to suffer alone.

Now I snapped out of it a little and reached up to gently wipe his cheek clean of his fresh tears. I pulled away from him just enough to really get a good look at him and what I found sent me plummeting back to the depths of despair. His normally bright and vibrant cobalt eyes were now an ashen black, tortured and anguished, and lined with tight, red creases.

My fingers lightly traced the skin where the compass I'd drawn for him was inked on his forearm and his hand quickly closed around my own.

He opened his mouth to speak, but his face fell. I wasn't even sure if my voice would actually work, but I had to try. He deserved this, especially after the way he'd swooped in, just like he always did, and put my needs and my well-being before anything else. He'd never hesitated to reach for me and I knew I needed to give some of that back.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice cracking from the sheer weight of it all.

His face twisted in anguish and then his lips pressed gently against mine.

"I love you too," he murmured against my lips. "So much."

I sucked in a sharp breath and allowed my fingers to continue their ministrations across his tattoo. "And here I was starting to feel like we could do this, that we could be parents and maybe not completely screw it up."

He smiled sadly and his Adam's apple bobbed violently as tears welled up again in his devastated eyes.

"Do you think it'd be alright if I waited a little while to finish the mural?"