The F King: A Bad Boy Romance(106)

I was nineteen years old, healthy, in a vigorous sexual relationship… and I’d never used any kind of protection. Faced with this nausea, it was a stark reminder about basic human biology.

Feeling paler than snow, I’d sheepishly gone to the pharmacy to get a home pregnancy kit, but didn’t have a chance to use it before Austin was home for the evening. Even though I was feeling better physically, I was nervous enough that I must have still looked ill, and he didn’t ask any questions when I went to bed early.

I couldn’t tell him what I thought might be going on. What was the point of dropping that bomb on him before such an important fight, when I wasn’t even sure myself?

When I suggested maybe I should sleep in a spare room to help make sure he wasn’t sick for his fight, he just shrugged, gave me a big germ-sharing kiss and said “If you get sick, I get sick.”

This morning, the nausea was back again, and once Austin was out of the house I dragged myself out of bed to puke in the toilet and then pee on a stick. While waiting for the recommended fifteen minutes, I drifted off again.

Now awake again, I knew that in the bathroom at the end of the hallway there was a little stick sitting next to the sink that might change my life. Every limb was made of lead as I hauled myself to my feet and slumped out of the bedroom.

When I shuffled into the bathroom I kept my eyes level, holding my own unsteady gaze in the mirror as I approached. I looked scared, and the sight of that stick in the lower periphery of my vision wasn’t helping.

Without glancing down, I picked it up and held it in front of me. I could see it in my hands in the mirror. Such a little thing. So much power.

If I looked down and saw two lines, who would be staring out at me from the mirror when I looked back up? Not Skylar Cross, the scared small town girl fleeing to find her own life. Not Skylar Aquila, the proud young wife of a rising MMA star. It’d be an expectant mother. A mommy.

It was almost like there was some kind of iron bar under my chin when I tried to look down, forcing my head back up, but I managed it, and turned the stick over in my hands. My heart bounced all over my chest like a ricocheting bullet as I focused on the little result window.

Two lines. Two.

The home pregnancy test clattered to the ground and I didn’t even spare a glance at the mother-to-be in the mirror. I needed to sit down. Fast.

More by good luck than good management, I made it to the living room and collapsed on to the couch. With my head in my hands I tried to wrap my brain around what was happening.

What was Austin going to say? What was he going to do? Everything was almost perfect, and now it was all going to change.

He loved me, I was sure of it, but he was only a handful of years older than I was. Had his sexual hunger for me blinded him about basic biology as much as it had done to me?

Before we were thrust together, he had a well-deserved reputation. Fighting his way through the NHBFC ranks and fucking his way through every desirable woman he happened across. How could the concept of fatherhood have ever seeped its way into the haze of that lifestyle?

A lump formed in my throat. If I looked at myself in the mirror would I see a single mother-to-be?

A tear escaped the corner of my eye before I could shake my head to clear it. That was crazy terror-talk.

Austin had looked at me like he wanted to eat me all up since the day we met, but since getting married, that hunger went deeper, it was something else. He wanted me. Mind, body and soul. I was sure of it.

I sat up straight and took several deep calming breaths before looking down and putting my hand on my stomach. Under my palm I couldn’t feel anything out of the ordinary, just my stomach the same as usual. What would it be like to feel a little kick?

The thought brought a tentative smile to my face.

“Don’t worry, little one, everything is going to be OK,” I cooed as much to myself as to my barely-macroscopic child.

I startled when I heard those words, amazed at how much my voice sounded like the memory of my own mother. A knock rang out on the door, and I startled again.

When I answered it, there was a group of three men in dark business suits standing there, the smallest nearer the door and two bigger guys behind him, looking like well-dressed bodyguards.

“Hello?”

“Hi there. We’re business associates of Austin’s.”

“Oh… business associates? He’s not home right now, he’ll be down at Ross’ gym. Do you have the address?”

“Yeah we know where that motherfucker is, you dead bitch.”

The smaller guy held his finger up and then waved it in my direction. Before I could get out of the way enough to slam the door, the two bigger guys rushed in and grabbed me by the arms, dragging me outside kicking and screaming.