Rebel Heart (8 page)

“It came back negative.”

Stella wasn’t convinced but she entertained the charade even though Mel’s strained smile and somber expression painted a very different picture.

She was lying.

“That’s good,” she offered up.

“I know you were worried...”

Mel spent the rest of that day trying to remain optimistic as she hid behind the thin veil of her lie. Meanwhile, Stella tried to delude herself into believing everything would be all right.

It wouldn’t.

Nothing good could come from Mel becoming pregnant out of wedlock with a deceased man’s child. Especially when that man already had a family of his own.

There’s a saying that life will kick you in the ass when you least expect it. Stella could have let on that she knew the truth. That she had found the positive pregnancy tests, all five of them, buried in the bottom of Mel’s bathroom trash.

But there was a sort of ephemeral beauty in her silence.

When Mel finally got around to sharing the news with Dice, he looked at her for a long time void of any expression and he didn’t say a word. His eyes tightened at the corners and his jaw clenched.

Stella stood beside Mel for moral support and held her hand. Mel shifted beneath her father’s stare and crossed her arms over her chest, above her stomach, which would soon swell with a new life.

“Who is the father?” the question was grated out. Dice parted his lips just enough for the words to hit the surface before snapping them shut.

Mel stumbled back.

“That doesn’t matter,” she stuttered, breaking eye contact with him as her gaze fell on the scuffed wooden floor.

Dice scoffed and turned on his heels. He reached for his leather cut and pulled it on, hesitating in the doorway before walking out onto the porch. The screen door swung shut behind him.

Stella exhaled a deep breath.

“That wasn’t so bad.”

But Mel didn’t look so sure. Eight months and twelve hours of labor later, she would hold a strong, squalling child to her chest as Stella stood by her side and shared her tears and smiles.

But that was a story for another day.

Chapter Six

T
en long months after Maddox’s death, shortly after the birth of Mel’s daughter Stevie, Kade and Stella made it official. He told Stella that he was sick of playing games. That he was ready to take things to the next level with her, which meant attaching a label to their carefree fun.

Of course, Stella agreed, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head that told her that he didn’t mean it. That
playing games
was practically part of his genetic build up. That he was just grieving and behaving irrationally.

It was an intricate dilemma but like all great romances, they persevered regardless of the glaring complications.

Stella loved and hated Kade all at the same time.

She loved the way he looked at her like she was the only one in the room even when she wasn’t. She loved the way he touched her, slowly and deliberately. She loved the way they moved between his sheets. She loved the magic between them. And most of all, she loved the expression of pure devotion he would give her whenever they were together.

But the things Stella hated were suffocating.

She hated the long pauses in conversation whenever she would breach the subject of wanting something more long term with him. Marriage. Kids. Hell, even a dog. She hated how he would shut down on her at any given moment. She hated how impossible he made them seem. She hated the way she would curl up in her bathtub with the water running far too hot, crying like a child every time he would threaten to leave her. She hated how small he could make her feel.

But the thought of never seeing him again was another kind of hate entirely.

And so, Stella would stop crying. She would put on the façade she always did and she would set about on making her life, a disordered mess, clean again. She would turn off the water before it could scald her skin and she would dry herself off. She’d stare at herself in the mirror above the sink as she squeezed the excess water from her hair and she’d inspect the crescent-moon bite marks Kade had left on her neck the night before.

In Stella’s living room, Kade’s leather cut hung beside the front door. Stella pressed her face into it and inhaled his scent—a mix of nicotine, cologne, gasoline, and Cognac. On the ground beneath it were a pair of his worn in work boots, a pair Stella could remember him wearing on their first real date together, after which they had drowned in whiskey and found themselves entwined naked in his bed.

The lights in the walkway were still on from when Kade had clumsily escaped into the night, noting that he had club business to take care off.

It never seemed to matter that it was 3 A.M.

Stella poked her head into her kitchen to survey the damage. Plates covered with the previous night’s half-eaten meal littered the counter along with coffee mugs and beer cars. If she didn’t shake herself out of her slump and clean up soon, flies would begin feasting.

Stella scrapped the rotting food into the trashcan and ran the tap over the dishes as she reached for a carton of orange juice in the fridge. She poured herself a glass and took a long drink.

She opened the sliding glass doors that led to her backyard and stepped out into the cold early morning air, pulling her towel tighter around herself. Kade’s lighter sat beside a full ashtray in the center of a glass patio table.

He was everywhere.

Stella picked the lighter up and flicked it a few times to catch a flame, bringing it a few inches away from her face as her eyes watered. After rolling it around in her palms, she emptied the ashtray into the trashcan beside the table and set the lighter back inside of it.

Stella momentarily examined the horizon. The grass was freshly cut and the air smelled heavily of pine leaves. After exhaling a deep breath, she stepped back inside and slid the door shut behind herself. She got dressed and inspected her bed sheets. They were damp and covered in sweat from hours of lovemaking, followed by incessant crying. She took another long drink of her orange juice and got to work at pulling them from the bed to be washed.

When the washer had been loaded, she collapsed against it, feeling suddenly spent.

In the bathroom Stella splashed cold water from the tap onto her face but it didn’t make her feel any less nauseous. A quick look at herself in the mirror was all the verification that she needed. She was a mess. Her nose was bright red from sniffling. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from crying. But worst of all was her skin. It took on an almost sickly quality whenever she was sad.

In one move, more of a leap really, Stella was bent down in front of the toilet. She dry heaved into it until a vile and acidic mass rose from the confines of her stomach and made the plummet into the murky water, scorching her throat in the process. She continued gagging until all the vomit had passed, then, she clumsily stood to her feet.

Pregnant.

A dull ringing echoed in Stella’s skull. It was a reality she was all too aware of but refused to acknowledge. Even to herself. She entered her bedroom and collapsed on her sheet less bed, closing her eyes to temporarily bask in the silence of the morning.

She told herself that she would call Kade and tell him everything was all right. That she understand his hesitation and didn’t mind taking things slow.

Slow.

Stella sighed and pulled the towel off of herself. Slow didn’t really seem like much of an option. She grazed her hands over her stomach and exhaled a deep breath. Pretty soon she would be showing.

Stella choked on her breath. She had become good at lying, especially to Kade, but she didn’t know how she would hide this for much longer.

A decision had to be made, and soon.

Stella made herself sick conjuring up fantasies where she was confident and brave enough to put her foot down. To give Kade an ultimatum; either he solidified their relationship or she would leave him.

Abortion. Adoption. Abortion. Adoption.

The words echoed in Stella’s head. She had tried both options on for size dozens of times but neither one seemed right. She was exhausted.

Later that day, when Kade arrived at Stella’s house beaten and bloody, she didn’t ask questions. She ignored the complacent look of rage in his eyes and welcomed him inside with a long kiss that never failed to make him forget his anger.

It was no secret that Kade loved Stella.

It was in the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn’t looking back. She could taste it on his lips when they would embrace. It was what kept her sane.

She couldn’t bring herself to abandon the comfort of his affection. She didn’t want the warmth she felt with him to ever freeze over. But she also didn’t want to be the one to put a damper on his dreams, and at barely twenty-six, Kade had made it clear dozens of times that he was nowhere near ready for kids.

Not that Stella was.

It was just...different. Being the mother.

“I’m sorry I left you last night,” Kade spoke up from behind Stella’s kitchen table.

“I wasn’t lyin’ when I said I had club shit to handle. You know things are tough right now with the whole Miller situation.”

Stella nodded. She understood, at least to an extent. Club business came first, plain and simple, and Miller’s suicide, compounded with Maddox’s sudden death, had left the Sons in shambles. Stella set a plate of food down in front of Kade and nodded, leaning against the counter and watching silently as he dug in, shoving forkfuls of eggs and bacon into his mouth.

She knew better than to ask what had when down.

“How is Grace doing?” Stella spoke up.

Grace was Miller’s old lady and the mother of his children. Kade swallowed the food in his mouth and shrugged.

“You know...she’s just getting by.”

When Kade was done eating, he took a long drink of orange juice right from the carton and pulled Stella against him, holding her close. He kissed her slowly and with purpose, as though he was dying of thirst and she was his water. She hesitantly gave in, forgetting the baby and her suspicions and Miller’s suicide and the club long enough to enjoy the embrace.

She didn’t know how she could ever let go of this. The taste of Kade’s mouth. The fullness of his lips. The way his beard softly scratched against her jaw. She couldn’t imagine having any of it with anyone else.

Chapter Seven

E
very Sunday like clockwork, Stella would make her trek to the cemetery where she knew she would find Kade slouched against Maddox’s tombstone, staring off into space with a cigarette in one hand and a half-empty bottle of liquor in the other.

He was there when Maddox had died and he blamed himself for his death. There was nothing he could have done to stop it. It was brutally random. The worst kind of case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but that didn’t seem to lessen his grief.

The last time Kade had seen Maddox he had looked at him with defeat as he gurgled blood and relented himself to his fate. It wasn’t the kind of thing a man could forget, regardless of how much time had passed. It was the kind of sight capable of catapulting even the strongest of men into sorrow.

And so he drank.

He drank because it was easy. He drank to forget. He had grown accustomed to the bitter comfort of liquor. To the way it burned his throat and reminded him that he was alive. That Maddox wasn’t. And whenever the reminder became too much for him to bear, he would simply drink more.

He’d tip back the bottle and he’d forget.

Alcohol sustained him. It became as natural as breathing. He sought comfort in the dull, painful moments between his first drink and his next.

The sky was bright and illuminated by different shades of orange. There was some solace to be experienced on the empty road just before sunset.

On this particular day, three months into her pregnancy, Stella was all business. There were questions she needed answers to.

One in particular.

After hoisting Kade into the passenger’s seat of her Firebird and turning onto the road, Stella turned to look at him.

“Do you love me?”

Kade frowned. The question caught him off guard. Stella awaited his response and gripped the steering wheel until her fingers flushed of color, a shade that matched the emptiness in her expression.

She always did have a nonchalant way of tapping into a person’s soul. Kade looked out the rain-streaked window and said nothing. Every little thing about him screamed
yes
, but he refused to speak.

As they bumped down the road, Kade silently replayed his and Stella’s latest argument in his head.

She had thrown an iron at him. He had called her overemotional. They had these fights regularly but they always made up.

This time felt different.

Kade lit a cigarette and inhaled. He could feel her dark eyes grazing his face, longing for an answer he’d never give.

“I don’t know,” Kade lied, his voice barely audible.