Exposure

by Ember Dante

  “Is that going to haunt me forever?” he sighed.

  “No, I’m going to make sure of that.”

  “You can’t protect me from everything.”

  I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Look, I don’t know what her end game is, or what’s motivating her to go after Connor, but that bitch has threatened to drag this shit back into the news to get to him. She’s been blackmailing me with it so I’ll keep working for her. I’m not going to let her hurt you. I promise.”

  “I haven’t told Lukas about that yet.” He lowered his head, eyes squeezed shut. They opened, and he rolled his forearms over, exposing his wrists. “He’s asked about the scars. I feel like shit for lying to him, but what am I supposed to tell him? How am I supposed to tell him?”

  “Do you love him?”

  He lifted his chin, tears threatening to spill from his green eyes. “More than anything.”

  “Then it doesn’t matter how you say the words. Just tell him. You were a kid, for fuck’s sake. Do you think you’re the only man who’s ever fucked up?”

  “Yeah, well, you’ve never fucked your coach,” he grumbled, shrugging out of my hold.

  “Maybe not, but I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes.”

  “Why now? Lukas is going to hate me,” he groaned.

  “Stop. Don’t go there. If he loves you half as much as you love him, he won’t care about that. It’s ancient history.”

  “That’s easy for you to say.”

  “Do you think it was easy for me to tell Emmy my shit? Fuck, no, it wasn’t easy, but I told her, and she didn’t run away. Lukas won’t leave you, either.”

  “I just—” He breathed, collapsing onto the sofa in tears. “I can’t go there again.”

  “It’s gonna be okay, kid,” I promised him, dropping beside him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “It’ll be okay.”

  It was almost ten-thirty by the time I got home, and I wasn’t surprised that Emmy had already gone to bed. I undressed in the dark to avoid waking her, leaving my clothes in a heap on the floor.

  “Ian?” she asked, her voice weak and broken.

  “What, babe?”

  My gut told me things were about to get worse, and I settled on the edge of the bed.

  “I don’t feel good. I couldn’t get up, and I think…” She hiccuped, making me think she’d been crying. “I think I peed.”

  I pressed my palm to her forehead. Her skin was clammy, and a few stray hairs were sticking to her face. “Close your eyes, baby. I need to turn on the lamp.” Light spilled across the bed, revealing her form huddled beneath the covers, the comforter bunched under her chin. “Are you cold?”

  “Hot and cold.” She sniffed. “I’m hot now, but it hurts to move.”

  I stood and gathered the comforter in both hands. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Cramps,” she sobbed.

  I took a deep breath and jerked the bed covers down, exposing her. She lay curled in the fetal position, her hands clutching her stomach, feet tucked as close as possible to her legs. Blood covered her panties, upper thighs, and the sheet beneath her. Time stood still. Silence settled around me, and all I could hear was the echo of my beating heart until Emmy’s moans kicked off a wave of adrenaline. I dressed quickly in the same clothes I had just removed and jammed my feet in my shoes as I haphazardly stuffed my phone, keys, and wallet into my pockets.

  Returning to Emmy’s side, I jerked the sheet from the mattress and gathered it around her.

  I pushed my arms beneath her, one under her shoulders and the other under her knees. “Come on, babe, put your arms around my neck.”

  “Where are we going?”

  She reached up, whimpering as I tightened my arms and lifted.

  “The hospital. You need a doctor.”

  Everything moved in slow motion. It took forever for the elevator to open, and the ride down to the parking garage was interminable. Emmy’s cries pierced my soul, rending my heart in two, and it took all of my focus to keep moving. I settled her in the car as gently as possible, and once I was satisfied she was secure, I hustled into the driver’s seat and sped to the hospital with little regard for traffic lights. It was a miracle we weren’t stopped by the police. Maybe something was actually going our way for a change.

  I screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance, barely shifting into Park before jumping from the vehicle and rushing to her side once more. The doors opened, and two paramedics approached. I rattled off information as quickly as I could before they took her away, leaving me with nothing but weak assurances and platitudes. With nothing to do but wait, I paced like a caged tiger, restless and agitated. I paced, then sat, then paced again, only to repeat the cycle. The waiting room was almost deserted, but the few other occupants kept a wary eye on me, no doubt curious about the blood on my clothes and my state of mind.

  “Ian?”

  I looked up and saw a familiar—and welcome—face.

  “Jules. What are you doing in the ER?”

  “I heard about Emmy.”

  I sucked in my first full breath and sprang from the chair to meet her.

  “How is she? Can I see her?”

  “I want to talk to you first,” she began, all business. “We’re really not supposed to tell you anything because you’re not legally related, but I kinda fudged and told them y’all are engaged.”

  “Tell me something. I’ve been going insane.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve figured out she miscarried?” Squeezing my eyes closed, I nodded. “They’re gonna keep her overnight, just to make sure the bleeding is under control. The doctor wants her to pass the rest of it on her own, but if she doesn’t, they’ll need to do a D&C in a day or two—it’s routine. She’ll probably be on antibiotics for a bit to ward off any infection.”

  “But she’s okay, yeah?”

  “Physically, she’s fine. She’ll probably be an emotional wreck for a while, as you’d expect after something like this.”

  “What about…?”

  “There’s no reason she won’t be able to get pregnant again and carry to term. When things like this happen this early, it usually means something was wrong with the fetus, and it doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. It wasn’t your fault—or hers. I know, that’s easy to say, and I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

  Tears stung my eyes. There was a deep sense of loss, but also relief that Emmy was going to be okay.

  “Hey,” I sighed, reaching for her arm. I think I needed that extra bit of contact. “Thanks for being here.”

  “Of course. I love you guys.” Her warm fingers closed around my arm. “Come on. She should be settled in a room by now. I’m going to warn you, though, she’s pretty doped up, so she probably won’t make any sense if she’s even awake.”

  I didn’t care if she was speaking in fucking tongues, as long as she was alive and healthy.

  Emmy came home the following morning but had to go back for that procedure two days later. Talk about picking open a scab and not allowing it to heal. On the plus side, she was feeling much better, even though she refused to go anywhere. Hell, I wasn’t any different. I canceled all of my appointments for the week and even told Blaire to fuck off. I couldn’t find it in me to care about work, a career I’d loved every day since the start. I was so out of my element, I’d even snapped and fired Troy. I couldn’t remember what set me off, but once he was gone, I couldn’t say I really missed him all that much.

  My cell rang—Parker, for the umpteenth time.

  “Yeah?”

  “So, you are alive, after all.”

  “Har, har,” I deadpanned. “What’s up?”

  “Thought I’d see if you had time in your busy schedule to talk about this Blaire-shit,” he sniggered, merging the two words together so it sounded more like ‘bullshit.’

  “I s’pose. Come by the studio.”

  “Nah, I thought you might like to get out in the land of the living for
a change.”

  “I don’t know, Park. I’m not up to it.”

  “Horseshit. Tell Emmy you’re going out for a bit and we’ll grab a beer. I’ll be there in five minutes. Get your ass to the lobby and I’ll pick you up. See how awesome I am? I’m not even gonna make you drive.”

  “I don’t want to go far in case she needs me.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I figured as much. We’ll just run over to Grand Luxe. Practically right across the street.”

  “It is right across the street, jackass.”

  “Hold on there, buddy. Better not crack a joke. You may laugh and decide you can be in a good mood.”

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed—it was a weak, raspy sound, but definitely a laugh—despite the remaining heaviness in my heart.

  “Fine. You win. Happy? I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Fan-fucking-tastic. See you in five.”

  Emmy was asleep—frequent naps had become part of her daily routine—so I scribbled a quick note and changed my shirt before heading downstairs to meet Parker. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea, but maybe it was what I needed. By the time I made it downstairs, he was waiting just beyond the doors, truck idling.

  “You look like shit, sweetheart,” he quipped, studying me as I climbed in the passenger side.

  “Why, thanks, honey. Good to see you, too.”

  He smirked and handed me a folder that was about half an inch thick.

  “Make yourself useful for a change and read this while I drive to the bar.”

  “What’s this?”

  “The shit you’ve been waiting for. That, my friend, is the answer to your Blaire problem. I had to call in more than a few favors to get it.”

  My curiosity got the best of me and I began reading. It didn’t take long to become engrossed.

  “Is all of this accurate?”

  “Please,” he scoffed.

  “No, I just meant—”

  “Yes, it’s accurate. We can turn this over to the police right now, and the D.A. will have a fucking field day with it.”

  “It looks like there are some blanks.”

  “That’s because I can’t get those answers.” He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “You’ll have to ask your old man, but all that shit about Blaire and Caitlin is one-hundred percent verifiable.”

  My head fell backward, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Holy shit. I’ve always known he’s done some heinous shit, but I never thought he’d stoop that low.”

  “Feels good, doesn’t it? Finally setting down some of those bricks you’ve been carrying all this time?”

  “Fuck yes,” I exhaled. “I need to talk to him before we turn this over.”

  “Thought you might.” He parked the truck and killed the engine. “You ready for that beer now?”

  “Yeah. I think I am.”

  We settled at the bar, and Parker was kind enough to wait until we’d been served before getting down to business. I knew as soon as he mentioned grabbing a beer that it was coming.

  “How’s Emmy feeling?”

  “Better. She was taking a nap when I left.”

  His lips pursed and he nodded.

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Me? I’m fine.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What? I am.”

  He took another swallow and set his glass on the bar before turning toward me.

  “How long have we known each other?”

  “I don’t fucking know. Did I forget an anniversary or something?”

  “The answer, smart-ass, is a long fucking time. Like, since we were kids or some shit. That means I know when you aren’t fine.”

  “Do we have to talk about this? I’m not in the mood.”

  “Yes, we do. Emmy’s worried about you, and she’s talking to Jules about it, which is driving me nuts.”

  “She’s worried about me?”

  “Look, I don’t know what it feels like to lose a kid. But I know you well enough to know you feel guilty as hell about it, just like that shit with Caitlin.”

  “It’s not the same, man,” I rebuffed, shaking my head.

  He ignored me. “Tell me what’s going on inside that hard head of yours. I know I bust your balls all the time about us not doing the touchy-feely emotional shit, but you’ve never hesitated to vent to me about anything. Something’s eating at you, and it’s gonna keep on eating at you until you let it out.”

  I propped an elbow on the bar and rested my forehead in my hand, my head angled toward him.

  “I know it wasn’t my fault—I know that in my head. But what if I had been home? What if I took her to a doctor sooner? Would she still have lost the baby?”

  “Coulda, woulda, shoulda, dude. It sucks, but it happened. Hell, give yourselves some time and try again.”

  “We need to do it the right way.” I shook my head. “I keep thinking she was disappointed I didn’t propose when she told me she was pregnant.”

  Parker shrugged. “So, why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t want her to think that was the only reason I asked.”

  “Is that all that’s bugging you? Really?”

  I shook my head. “Since we’ve been together, I’ve thought about shit in the abstract, you know? Like, yeah, I love her, I want to marry her, and I want to have kids—someday. She was afraid I’d be pissed about it, because of Caitlin, but I didn’t freak out, didn’t panic. I mean, yeah, we didn’t plan it, but I was good with it. I didn’t feel cornered, or obligated, or trapped in any way. You’ll probably call me a pussy for saying this, but fuck it, that baby was a piece of us, and now…” I choked on the words. “I didn’t realize how badly I wanted it until it was gone. I saw what Emmy went through, and what a tough time she’s had dealing with it, and I catch myself wondering what I’ve got to bitch about? I wasn’t the one in pain, wasn’t the one fucking bleeding, wasn’t the one who had to have fucking surgery afterward because of it. I guess…” I took a deep breath and let it out. “I guess I feel like I don’t have the right to be upset about it, but I can’t shake it.”

  “Have you told her any of this?”

  Scowling, I lifted my beer to my lips and didn’t answer.

  “You need to. Hell, do it for me, please. I’m not sure how much longer I can listen to Jules on the phone with Emmy every fucking night analyzing your neuroses. Give yourself permission to feel bad. It was your kid, too, you know. You’re allowed to grieve.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Parker?”

  “Fine. I’ll admit it. I do have a phantom vagina that comes out every now and then. Usually when I have to deal with your pansy ass.” He leaned over and bumped my shoulder with his. “After all the shit you’ve endured because of your old man, I know damn well you’ve got balls big enough to get through this. I get wanting to be strong for Emmy, but you’ve gotta show her the weak side, too, dude. You’re allowed. Regardless of however much chicks think you look like him, you are not Superman.”

  30

  Emmy

  I woke with a start, the silence of the empty apartment buzzing in my ears. There wasn’t a peep—neither the hum of the television nor Ian’s near-silent shuffling moving about the space.

  Pushing up onto my elbows, I saw the note he must have left while I was sleeping alongside a still-sweating glass of water and my meds. My heart melted at the knowledge that he was still babying me even while dealing with his own grief. He thought I didn’t see it, but the pain was there, hiding behind the passive mask he wore and in the droop of his shoulders. I may have borne the physical loss, but emotional pain could sometimes be more damaging. Holding in grief was dangerous—it could fester and turn to poison.

  The silence was discomfiting, so I dragged myself out of bed, stopping to take the pills Ian had left on the nightstand before drifting into the kitchen to start dinner. I was in the process of chopping an onion when Ian walked through the door. He set a thick manila folder on the island and mean
dered over to draw me into a hug. I set the knife on the counter and reached my arms around his neck.

  “Hi,” I whispered.

  “Hey, Beautiful.”

  “How’d it go with Parker?”

  He lifted me onto the edge of the sink and buried his face in the curve of my shoulder.

  “There are a few unanswered questions that I need to talk to Dad about. Otherwise, it went okay, I guess.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Shaking his head, he pressed his lips against my neck. He tightened his arms around me and broke down, his body trembling as silent tears dropped onto my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “For what, babe?”

  “I should’ve put off talking to Finn. I should’ve been here with you.”

  “I don’t think that would’ve changed anything.”

  “Maybe not, but you wouldn’t have been alone.” His voice cracked, strained with self-loathing and guilt.

  “You did what you thought was right at the time. There was no way either of us could have known. Please don’t dwell on that.”

  “The thought of losing you terrifies me.”

  I pulled away, and he lifted his head to meet my gaze. His eyes were bluer than normal, probably a result of the tears. My fingers drifted over his face, from brows to jaw, before threading through his hair. He was my rock, and his admission showed me his greatest strength. It took a brave soul to open up and let someone in, creating true intimacy.

  “I love you, Emmy. You know that, right?”

  I was already in love with him, but that love had grown, becoming a deep-burning and unquenchable fire, an emotion so strong it didn’t even have a name.

  “Yes. I love you, too.”

  “I need—” He paused, inhaling deeply. “I need to know we both want the same things.”

  “I want a life with you.”

  “You are my life, baby,” he said, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips.

  “Then I think we’re on the same page.”