“Nan!” Rush’s voice rang through the house, and I waited another second to be sure the heaving was done, before flushing the toilet and standing up.
I didn’t have the energy to respond to him yet. Splashing cold water onto my clammy skin, I inhaled deeply, then turned to walk out of the powder room to see my brother searching for me with a frantic look on his face.
“Nan,” he said, pulling me into his arms tightly. “It’s OK. I’m here. Major is here, and obviously, he’s crazy as a fucking loon and taking care of things.” He buried his nose in my head. “This nightmare is almost over. Just go up to your room, and stay there. Don’t leave until I come get you. OK?”
I wasn’t about to let Rush walk outside, where there were crazy men and guns. “No. You stay with me.”
“You’ll be safe. Just stay in your room. Major assured me backup is on its way.”
“I don’t want you out there near that,” I told him honestly. “Blaire and the kids. They need you safe. Stay with me.”
He paused, and for a moment, I knew that he was thinking about what I’d said. I was being honest. I needed him, yes, but they needed him more.
“OK, let me go tell Major where I’ll be. You get upstairs.”
I was good with that. “Hurry.”
“I will.”
My room seemed like a different place from what it had been only one hour ago. It was no longer a safe place. Nothing felt safe anymore. I doubted it ever would. Standing amid the familiarity of my things, I started to feel hungry again. How was I hungry at a time like this? Wasn’t I sick?
No stomach virus I’d had ever had was like this. Sick one moment, hungry the next. Not to mention that I had just witnessed a man being shot more than once and bleeding on my front steps. Could this be a dream? Did the pinching thing not really work? I mean, who had actually pinched themselves in a dream and woken up? If you’re dreaming, then you aren’t technically pinching yourself, so that doesn’t make sense. And if you’re supposed to feel the pinch, then you can make up in your dream that you feel the pain, right?
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I decided I had snapped. There was a man outside who was a drug lord, shot and bleeding all over my porch. Major was holding him at gunpoint and telling me to call Gannon, like they were the best of buds. This had to be a dream. My stomach growled as if it were starving for food. Did your stomach growl in dreams? Did my stomach not know that I was sick and I’d just seen a man shot?
Another loud growl. I touched my stomach to shut it up, and it was at that moment, as I sat there with a loud, angry stomach, that it dawned on me. This nightmare had just taken a turn. One that wasn’t a nightmare but more of a light at the end. Something to make my life worth living. Something that would keep me sane and give me love, as I in return gave love.
Placing a hand on my stomach, I had no doubt. My period should have come more than two weeks ago. It hadn’t. I’d been so wrapped in my pain and sorrow that I hadn’t noticed.
I was pregnant. That was, if I was actually awake.
Major
Watching a man bleed to death was new to me. He moaned and cursed a lot. That much was enjoyable. I knew I needed to keep him alive long enough to get him to talk, but I was afraid the blood loss was going to be too much for him.
The sound of a vehicle engine behind me caught my attention, and I spun around, with my gun ready in case this was backup for Franco. The sight of the familiar black truck that belonged to Cope was a relief, since Franco might have been on his last few breaths.
“You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?” Rush asked, as he walked back out of the house after having barreled into it looking for Nan and now finding me here talking to a dying man.
“Nope. Can’t,” I told him over my shoulder, while turning my attention back to Cope. “Might want to hurry it on up. Don’t think he’s gonna last much longer.”
Cope muttered a curse and slammed his truck door before taking long-ass strides toward where we were. “Why’s Finlay here?” he barked at me.
“Nan called him.”
“Where is she? Is she OK?”
I nodded at Rush. “Ask him.”
“She’s terrified, sick, and in her room. What the fuck is going on?” Rush demanded.
I thought about telling him not to talk to Cope that way, because Cope was a mean bastard, but I was the one with the gun cocked and loaded, so I figured it was all good.
“Sick?” Cope asked suddenly, sounding a little too concerned. Was he forgetting that I had a dying man here with info he needed? Jesus.
“Yes, but that’s expected after she’s witnessed all this. What is going on?” Rush replied.