Ruined(13)
“Baby, what are you doing here?”
I ignore his question. “Are you okay?” And instead ask my own. “I saw everything, the news report, the explosion . . .” My voice quivers. “They kept saying officers had life-threatening injuries but didn’t say which ones.”
My eyes tear as I cling to his shirt. If you think being married to a Dom is difficult, try being married to an ex black operative who is now part of an elite SWAT unit.
I would take the Dom any day.
“Shh, Ellie, I’m okay. Everything is okay.” He runs his hand through my hair. That should soothe me, make me feel comforted, but it somehow has the opposite effect.
“You scared the shit out of me!” I lash out, slamming both fists on his chest. “I thought you were hurt!” I hit him again, crying. “Or worse!” The third time he grabs my wrists before impact.
“Whoa, killer. I’m fine. There’s no need to beat me up,” he says humorously, before his facial expression changes. “How did you know I would be here? Did someone call you?”
“No.”
“London, then?”
“No. We were actually already here,” I confess, sniffling.
“What?” His grasp tightens. “Why?”
Oh shit, this is not the way I envisioned telling Kayne he’s going to be a daddy. Right after an explosion with a death grip around my wrists.
“I woke up bleeding this morning,” I divulge.
“What? Where?” There’s a mix of fear and anger in his eyes.
“Between my legs,” I admit softly, so only he can hear.
“And you didn’t think to call and tell me?”
“London rushed me to the hospital. I didn’t want to worry you while you were away.” Although, selfishly, in hindsight, I wish I had. That way he wouldn’t have been anywhere near a crazy man with explosives.
“So what’s wrong?” he asks concerned.
“Nothing,” I tell him truthfully.
“Ellie,” he says strictly. Like, don’t fuck around with me strict.
“I’m pregnant.” I rush the words out. They’re amazing to say.
“What?” It looks like I just slapped him.
I nod. My angry tears turning into joyful ones.
“Honest to god?”
I nod more fervently, unable to speak from the overwhelming happiness.
“Holy shit!” He hauls me into his arms and plants an exaggerated kiss right on my lips. I wrap my legs around him and squeeze with every ounce of strength I have.
“But wait.” He pulls away. “Why were you bleeding? Is something wrong?”
“No. The doctor says it’s normal in the first trimester. I just have to keep my stress level low. Which has been a bit difficult this morning.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I should have called and told you I was all right, except Jett got hit with some shrapnel and I needed to make sure he was okay.”
“Is he?”
“As far as I know, it grazed under his eye. That part of the skin bleeds profusely. I think it looks worse than it is.”
“Is that why you were yelling at the nurse? To get someone to check on him?”
“Of course.”
“Were you inside the house when the bomb went off?” I ask meekly, unsure if I want to know the answer.
“No. Several of us had gone around back to extract the other boy. He was in bad shape. Beaten up, starved, and severely dehydrated. Once he was out, that’s when the other team went in. Jett wasn’t wearing his protective eyewear and caught some flying debris.”
“Are the boys going to be okay?”
“I think so, but from what I understand, they were abused in more ways than one. We might want to send them a business card sometime down the line.”
“Oh, no.” I frown, a mash up of emotions hitting me.
“Tinley has a rap sheet a mile long, and most of it is child abuse.”
“Disgusting monster.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
“I’m just glad you’re okay.” I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I’m fine.” He hugs me. “It’s going to take more than a pipe bomb to get rid of me.”
“I don’t want to get rid of you. Ever.”
“You say that now.” He chuckles.
“I’ll say that always.” I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted. “Can we go home?
“Sure, kitten. We can take a nap right after you lick me clean.” He nuzzles my neck.
I giggle. “Insatiable.”
“It’s who I am. Love me or leave me.”
“I choose love you.”
“I can only hope.”
I roll my eyes, faithless man. “I need to grab my purse before we leave. Do you need to say good-bye to Jett?”
“Nah.” Kayne starts walking in the direction London and I bombarded him from. “London is with him. I’ll check in on him later.”
I direct Kayne into the small space I spent most of the morning in. He sets me on the ground and I grab my bag.
“Wait.” I stop him as he takes my hand to leave. “I didn’t exactly tell you I was pregnant the way I wanted to. Or hoped to. Can we sit for a second?”
“Sure.” Kayne looks confused but takes a seat on the bed anyway. I yank the curtain closed for privacy then crawl onto the mattress next to him. I pull out my phone and hand it to him.
“Am I supposed to call the baby?” he asks, even more perplexed.
“No.” I laugh as I swipe the screen and hit an app. “Just press play.”
He does, and a second later, that quickly pounding underwater sound pulsates through the air.
His eyebrows crease before understanding hits.
“Is that . . . ?” He brings the phone closer to his ear.
“The baby’s heartbeat. I wanted you to hear it when I told you.”
Kayne just sits there spellbound, listening to the rhythmic sound. “It’s the most amazing thing I have ever heard.” His voice is breathy and his eyes are glassy.
I snuggle up against him. “I think so, too.”
KAYNE STARES SILENTLY OUT THE living room window.
That’s his position of choice these days. Leaning against the glass, ominously quiet, lost in his own head.
I’m six months today; my belly has finally popped and I have given up trying to squeeze into any of my pre-pregnancy pants. Maternity it is from here on out. I wish not fitting into my clothes was my biggest problem. Kayne had been over the moon about being a father up until about a month ago; when we went for my twenty-week ultrasound and found out we were having a boy. When, for the first time, we were able to see our baby’s little feet and hands and face in a 3D picture. Everything changed after that. He retreated into himself. I know my husband, and beneath that cocky, I’ll break you in half exterior is a high-strung, excitable man who needs to exercise restraint when it comes to his emotions. They can become a Molotov cocktail if he’s not careful. Believe me, I know; I’ve been in the direct line of fire when he flies out of control.
Kayne walks a fine line every day, and lately that line seems to be getting narrower and narrower. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he’s thinking about. Her, his mother, his childhood, and all the shitty things that happened to him while growing up. I’m beginning to worry that starting a family is going to have a negative effect on him. That instead of completing us, it’s going to tear us apart. I know I had reservations in the beginning, and I know I’ll always worry, but what really scares me is the thought of raising this child alone.
“Hey.” I speak to Kayne’s back.
“What’s up, kitten?” His reply is flat.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?”
“What’s bothering you.”
“Nothing is bothering me,” he fires back.
“We both know that’s not true.”
“I’m fine, Ellie.”
“No, you’re not. You barely sleep, you barely eat, and you haven’t touched me in almost a month.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re horny?”
“No. That’s not what this is about. It’s about you and your issues.”
“I have issues?”
“Lately, you do.”
“The only issue I have is you accusing me of having issues.” He’s being obtuse and pissing me off.
“Kayne. In three months, we are bringing a child into this world. I want him to know his real father, not this watered-down version who can’t even look at me.”
“Are you saying I’m not the real father?”
I sigh exaggeratedly. “I’m saying you’re an asshole who won’t face what’s bothering him.”
Kayne finally turns around, anger burning in his eyes. Good. Finally, a reaction other than just aloof.
“Did you just call me an asshole?”
“I did. Do want me to repeat myself so you can hear it again?”
“That isn’t a very nice thing to say.”
“WelI, I had to get your attention somehow.”
“You have it. What do you want to talk about, Ellie?” His tone is menacing.
“What’s bothering you.”
“I told you, nothing is bothering me.”
“I call bullshit. Your mother is bothering you. Your past is bothering you. Becoming a father is bothering you.”