Forgiving Gia (Rocker Series Book 2) (27 page)

“What the fuck does that mean?” I grabbed his shirt. My fist was ready to plant in his fucking Spanish face.

“It means, I bet a hundred fucking percent she’s hiding something. You’ll see. You’re a stupid motherfucker when it comes to her,” he said incredulously before his face was filled with my fist. I got in a few good punches and a knee. He had elbowed me in the eye before the boys broke it up.

“You talk about my future wife again and I’ll gut your ass, fucker.” I shook out of Woody’s wrestling hug.

“Ha! Wife? You hear this pussy-whipped fucker?” He thumbed toward me, looking at the guys. “He’s going to marry her?” he asked. Woody stayed motionless. While Dave, Jake, and Ender looked at one another disbelievingly.

“What’s your problem with Gia? All of a sudden you don’t like her? Yet you’re always around kissing her fucking ass. You’re a sad, desperate motherfucker. It’s sad. Grow the fuck up already. And maybe you’ll find a woman who wants to stick around for more than a few days on tour. I’m out.” I turned to Dave. “You need to figure this out. This is fucked. We have this jackass losing his phone and people uploading shit. You need to be on this shit.”

I left, slamming the door. Fuck, I needed to spit this shit out. It was numbing the back of my throat. I stepped into the elevator, hitting my floor. Chance jumped in. Of course. I spat on the floor. Ugh.

I saw Chance’s up-turned nose. Thankfully, he knew enough not to utter a fucking word. Worst fucking night ever, followed by the worst day ever. I needed a drink. Immediately.

I turned to Chance, hitting the stop button. “I’m going out. Stay with Gia, please. Can you do that for me?”

He nodded. “Can I ask where?”

“No.”

He got off on my floor while I continued on my journey to God knows where. There was no show that night; we had the night off. It was still early in the day so I threw out a text to have a car brought around back. The air around me felt like a cage, and I needed to be alone with my sins for a while. There was a lot of rage in me right now. Poison built up, polluting my head. Being off the grid would do some good. At least that was my intent…

I was unpleasantly surprised when I woke up, hugging the toilet bowl. To my absolute relief, Abel wasn’t in the room. That was a good and bad thing. Good because he didn’t need to see this. Bad, because I needed his help. We also needed to talk…really talk. My head wasn’t coming out of this bowl anytime soon, nor was I getting up after it did. My clammy skin sought the cold comfort of the tiled floor. I lay on my side, cradling my head with my elbow. Sigh.

I didn’t hear the door open, but was thankful for that, until he flipped on the light. “Oh em gee, baby girl? What’s wrong? You poor thing. How long have you been here?” His voice was just way too loud.

“Shhh.” I covered my eyes with my arm. His voice stirred the nausea angrily. “Stop talking.” Of course, he didn’t.

“Don’t be silly. Let me help my little lamby.” He grabbed underneath my armpits.

“Please don’t…” It was coming up violently. I heaved myself over the lid of the bowl and let whatever was left up. I was convinced my stomach was producing vomit. No way in fucking hell did I have this much food in it—still. “Just let me die.”

“Never,” he vowed. “I’m calling a doctor.” He rushed out of the bathroom before I could pick my head up to plead with him. I already knew what it was. I already knew.

Sometime later, I came to rest across Chance’s lap on the sofa. “I’m giving her Zofran. They give it to Cancer patients and…” a woman’s voice spoke softly.

“Cancer patients? It sounds toxic,” I yelped.

I could hear the smile in her voice. “No, I can assure you it’s not toxic. We also offer it to expecting mothers.” She rubbed an alcohol swab up and down my arm. I wanted to protest, but couldn’t—wouldn’t. I needed relief. A part of me was happy that it was finally said aloud. Pregnant. “She needs to rest. The nausea should abate, and she will be able to drink. I would encourage ginger ale. Stay away from juices or water. Here’s my private number if there are any developments. Of course, the father may call if there’s anything of concern. Otherwise, I will be back tomorrow,” she clarified.

I didn’t want to open my eyes yet, so I listened. “Gia, you’ll need pre-natal care.” She waited for me to respond. Fuck. I didn’t want to be engaged. However, I couldn’t be rude, either.

“Okay,” was my one word response.

“It will get better. First trimester is always lousy if you ask me.” She wriggled her nose. “A vitamin wouldn’t hurt, either. We’ll wait until the nausea subsides, though.” She continued on for God knows how long. Her next sentence left me breathless, though. “Congratulations to you both,” she said joyously and left. Congratulations. Was it a felicitations-hats-off-cheers-greetings-compliments-well-done-nice-one? It didn’t feel like one of those occasions. I certainly didn’t feel very congratulatory.

“Did you know?” he came right out and asked as he played with my hair.

“Not really, but kinda.” It was the truth.

“How does that work? Explain that to me, please…” He wanted to pin me down to specifics.

“Well, remember when I was in the hospital recently…my stitches…” I pointed to my head. “They took a pregnancy test, but I never stayed for the results. The doctor said he’d call…”

“And he never called?” he asked nervously.

Here goes nothing
.

“He called. I just never listened to the message on my voicemail.” I peeked up at him. His crystalline blue eyes scrutinized me. I didn’t like that otherworldly look he was giving me. His eyes were dramatic enough on a regular day. I didn’t want his mad eyes dissecting me. I felt bad enough. Both physically and mentally. I’m a shit. There I said it.

“Ever? Like still to this day you haven’t listened?” He was beyond annoyed. That made me sick to my stomach again. My only solace was Chance understanding. If he didn’t understand, what would Abel do? It was a fucking omen.

“No. I was too scared.” I shrugged. Another truth. He lifted my head carefully, scooting up off the couch.

“I need to pace. You’re just maddening. I’m afraid I’ll strike out and hit you.” He opened a window that didn’t need opening. He started his OCD straightening.

“I deserve it,” I said, closing my eyes. Damn, he was angrily mumbling to himself. Not a good sign.

“Yes, you do. Christ, I’m so worried.” He blew out a long breath. That comment had me sitting up. I mean, I was worried, too. But his worry sounded like an ominous worried thingy.

“Why?”

He gave me a
really, you need to ask
kind of look.

“I know. I know. Is there something else?” I hedged.

“Oh, there’s several things.” He held out his fingers to count. “One, the alpha doesn’t know. Two, you haven’t been to a doctor. Do you have any idea what he’s going to do? Three, aren’t you on medication? Four, and you kinda weren’t honest, love-bug. I mean, not a bold-faced liar…but definitely not upfront,” he went on manically about it.

“Okay. Okay. I get it. I’ll tell him as soon as he gets back,” I yelled weakly. I more than got it. Fuck. Just when we turned one corner, bam…another wall. Was it one too many? Would this be the last? Was it too much to ask for to be happy? Why?

“Oh, no!” he yelped, fumbling for his phone. “Sweet Jesus, could this day get any worse?” he yelled at the ceiling. It wasn’t a good thing.

“What?” I sprang off the couch. “What’s the problem? What are you going on about over here?” I nearly slapped him.

He frowned. “The alpha’s off the grid…as in MIA. I didn’t get to tell you what happened at the meeting. He and Ender got into a fistfight.” All I heard out of his theatrical mouth was…off the grid, MIA, and fistfight. Not good.

“About?” I asked impatiently.

“You, the pictures that surfaced, and you some more.” He continued to dial.

“Me?” I countered. “What the fuck did I do?” I marched over, grabbing his phone.

He grabbed it back, frowning. “Long story. We don’t have time for this right now. I’ll fill you in later. Right now, I have to find him.” He marched over to the door, opening it. “Rambo, don’t let anyone in or out of here.”

Commando nodded.

“You—” He pointed at me. “–go lay down. I’ll be back.” He left swiftly out the door before I could ask when he’d be back. Argh. With the latest turn of events, my nausea turned to worry. My worry turned to fear. That damn fear settled in my heart, turning my blood cold with dread.

After several hours of relentless torment and non-answered calls, I sought to forage my own details of Abel’s whereabouts.

Woody would know. “Hi, Woody, it’s me. Do you know where Abel is? Chance acted like it was a life or death situation,” I probed. He was Abel’s best friend. He’d surely know something.

“Not at all life or death, dear. We’ll find em’. Prolly, just arsing around.” He sounded completely calm. Well, that’s a relief! He’s just arsing around. By now, I was well-acquainted with Woody-isms.

“Promise?” I couldn’t help but ask him to promise me. I’ll always be an insecure worryier.

“Abso-fucking-lutley. I’ll be in touch, love.” He hung up.

I sat there for a few minutes, looking at my phone. He sounded normal, but why did I have the gnawing feeling this was anything but? I needed to poll the others. After a mutual consensus, I’d feel so much better. So I started with Dave’s cell. It went to voicemail. Then, Jake’s. It rang and rang. Defeated, I hung up.

A feeling of dread came over me. I thought about his parents, but I didn’t want to worry them for no good reason. My last resort was Ender. It was an emergency. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called after all the trouble with him. However, I was
that
desperate for information. His phone either was dead or turned off. My next stop was Commando, just outside my door. He was security. Surely, security would be in touch with one another, right?

I opened the door he was stationed in front of. He was sitting in an armchair, reading an article in
Time
magazine. “Excuse me…have you heard anything?”

He let out an annoyed breath. “Nope.” He never looked up from his article. That fucking annoyed me.

“Nope? You are the head of security. You haven’t heard a word?” I asked, finding that hard to believe.

He rolled up the magazine, tapping it on his leg. “Listen, sweetheart, I’m paid for security. I’m providing that for you. I’m not here to baby-sit out-of-control-rock-stars.” He shook his head indignantly. Wow, what an asshole.

“He’s not out of control! And you’re not babysitting. It’s
your
fucking job.” I slammed the door in his face. Fuck him! I was going to tell Abel as soon as he returned what a fucking douche this guy was.

I sat on the comfy sofa and picked up the papers the doctor left behind…
You and your pregnancy.
It made it just a little bit more real holding them in my hand, but there wasn’t anything more realistic than having your belly grow. I was conflicted for a million and one reasons. My emotions were all over the place. I was happy because it meant really sharing something between Abel and me…having something completely on our own. A piece of both of us. However, not everybody would be happy. I’m sure some would say I did it on purpose…to trap him. What about the cancer-psycho-cunt? God only fucking knows what evil winds will blow my way because of this event. There was also my mother. She’d surely see this as solidifying a nice bank account. Finally, there was Abel. I seriously had to wonder if he’d see this as an Amy Dunne thing. That made me giggle. He was so ridiculous and outrageous at times, and yet so dominantly loving and nurturing. He’d be a wonderful father. I only prayed he’d eventually see himself as I saw him—beautiful.

Sunset peeked over the lemon trees. The gentle breeze swept my hair off my face. I cuddled with a pillow on the chaise just outside our bedroom. Would it still be
our
bedroom? I clung to that pillow like a mental lifeline. I hadn’t eaten all day. However, my nausea receded. Thank God for medicine. I’d make sure to call her tomorrow and schedule an appointment. Well, that’s assuming I’d still be there. It was all in Abel’s tatted hands.

I silently thought up a prayer and cried. I mean, really ugly-snot cried. I put the pillow aside to hug my stomach. I wasn’t showing at all, but I’ve heard that mothers talk to their babies in-utero. What could it hurt to start being a mother to this child? I wasn’t sure I’d be given the opportunity to be a mother. Yes, I always hoped. However, it was more like a prayer. Never did I think I’d actually find myself in this position. It’s easy to fantasize. Hell, I lived most of my life in a fantasy world. It’s so much easier than the life I’ve led. So, I spent my childhood and most of my adult life fantasizing about possibilities.