by A. Lynn
“Kane, honey, get that, please?"
The ringing stops and I sigh and roll over the best that I can without hurting myself. Then it starts again. "Honey," I whine and reach to his side of the bed. All I feel is cold sheets like he has been out of the bed for a long time. "Where the hell is he?" The ringing stops once again but immediately starts again.
I sit up too quickly and a scream escapes my throat without my approval. “FUCK! That hurt,” I cry as I reach for my phone. “Hello?”
“Hello, my name is Dr. Tracey Wiley. I’m looking for Reagan Marks.”
“This is her,” I say and look at the clock on my side table. Eight o’clock? Where is he?
“Good. I was your treating physician when you came into the Emergency Room at Wickenburg Regional on Wednesday. I received your blood work result in and I was hoping you could come in?
My heart sinks. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry Ms. Marks, I am not allowed to give information such as this over the phone. It’s a HIPPA violation.”
“Right, sorry. I’ll get dressed and head there in a few minutes.”
“Okay, good. Just go into the front of the hospital to the reception desk and give them your name. I'll go up there and let them know to expect you.”
“Thank you. I will be there soon,” I say as I start to get off the bed.
Ten minutes later I am walking out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth. After another ten minutes, I have dug around my drawers and pull on the loosest fitting yoga pants and tee I can find. I forgo the bra because fuck that shit. I don't want to wear one on the best of days, they can go fuck themselves. It was probably a worthless ass man that invented the torture devices anyway.
“Fucking asshats, the lot of them,” I mumble making a mental note to order some with zippers and the ones with the front clasps that never work for a rack like mine.
Walking out the front door, I freeze when I see a man in a cut sitting on my stairs. “Can I h-help you with something?”
“No, I’m good,” he says.
“Would you tell me why you are sitting on my porch this early in the morning?”
“I’m Motherfucker, Crow put me on your detail.”
“Your name is Motherfucker? Like you expect me to call you that?”
“My name is Josh Jones and most of my family call me JJ, if that works for you?”
“Jones, huh? Like the Sheriff?”
“He’s my uncle.”
“Right,” I say. “So what is this about a detail?”
“I’m your shadow when Crow can’t be here to do it. You move, I move,” he shrugs.
“And where is Crow?”
“At the shop.”
“Well, let's go, then. I'm needed at the hospital," I say walking to my car.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling into the parking lot with JJ trailing right behind me. When I step out of the car, I see him dismounting his bike.
“You can wait here, I’m safe at the hospital,” I say. He nods and leans against his bike. “Okay, I’ll be back.”
I walk into the reception area and instantly feel on display in front of all these people. Just then I hear a little girl say, “Mommy? What happened to her face?”
“I don’t know sweetie, but you are not being nice pointing it out,” the mom says as she shoots me an apologetic smile.
I turn around and go sit by the mother and child and say, “It was an accident. I was running outside with my son and I tripped. Before I had a chance to stop it, my face just said hello to the sidewalk.”
“Does it hurt?” The little girl asks.
“Yes, but I promise that it looks way worse than it actually is.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, sweet girl, but thank you for saying it.”
“I hope you feel better soon,” she says.
I look at her mom and say, “I hope I didn’t overstep just then. My son is three and can be relentless.”
“Not at all. She would have stressed over it the rest of the day. My sweet girl has a bleeding heart and seems to be a touch empathic. Isn’t that right, Emma?”
“Well, an appointment calls me. Bye Emma.”
“Bye,” she waves with a smile.
When I finally make it to the reception desk, I say, “Hello, I’m Reagan Marks. Dr. Wiley is expecting me.”
“Yes, Of course. Please follow me,” she says as she leads me to a room that only has a table and chairs. “She’ll be with you shortly.”
I nod as she turns to leave the room, then grab my phone.
Me: Where are you? Totally not cool leaving without saying bye, you know. Dr. Wiley called me in to discuss my blood work with me.
There is a knock on the door a pretty redhead walks in and says, “I’m so glad you were able to get here so quickly.”
“I’m not sure anything I can do right now can be described as quick,” I say with a nervous chuckle.
“How are you feeling?”
“My ribs keep screaming at me, but apart from that it’s not that bad.”
“Good. So the reason I called you in today is that your hCG level is elevated.
“My what?”
“The human chorionic gonadotropin hormone level. Less than five mIU/mL—or milli-international units per milliliter—indicates a negative test and anything over twenty-five is a positive. The space between five and twenty-five is considered a gray area. You were a twenty-three."
“I have no idea what you are telling me.”
“Reagan, your blood work indicates that you’re pregnant. I would say that you conceived less than a week ago."
My ears start ringing and I shake my head a few times to make it stop. “I’m sorry, what?" I feel like I am hyperventilating, no matter what I do, I can't get enough oxygen into my lungs. My head is starting to spin and I can feel my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
Then out of nowhere, there is a stinging sensation on the top of my hand. Then I hear the doctor saying, "Reagan, open your eyes. Focus on me." She grabs my hand and places it over her heart. "Breathe when I breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Good, keep doing it just like that.”
I feel the panic attack starting to ebb, “I think it’s better now.”
“Would you like some water?” Dr. Wiley asks as she gets a bottle out of the mini-fridge in the corner.
“Please,” I whisper.
“So, I take it this wasn’t planned?”
“Not even a little bit.”
“You do have options here, Reagan.”
“No, I don’t. Not any that I would consider, anyway.”
“I would like to run some tests today. I hate to say this, given the situation, you can’t take the pain meds anymore. Nothing stronger than Tylenol,” she says.
“That's fine, I didn't plan on taking any more anyway. My son comes home from his vacation today and I can't be impaired like that around him. But what about the muscle relaxers?"
“You can take the Flexeril ten milligrams three times a day,” she replies. “So can I run some tests on you today?”
“What kind of tests?”
“More blood work and pregnancy confirmation. That kind of stuff. Though, in light of your recent attack, I would like to do a transvaginal ultrasound. Just to make sure everything looks okay in there.”
“Would you be willing to write everything you want to do down and I visit my regular ob-gyn?"
“I can do that. But you should get in there as soon as possible.”
“I will call her office the second I leave here.”
“Who is your ob-gyn, if you don't mind me asking?"
“Wendy Brooks.”
“She’s a good one.”
“Is that all you needed to tell me?"
“That was it,” she says as she stands and walks to the door, compelling me to follow her. “I hope you feel better soon. Make that appointment.”
“I will,” I reply as I walk to the reception and t
hen out to the parking lot.
We haven’t been together long, but this feels so right. I can’t contain the smile that is spreading across my face. I hope Kane is as happy about this as I am. The way he has talked about us having children, I have no doubt he will be.
Jordan is going to be so happy he is going to get a brother or sister. My cheeks are hurting but I couldn’t wipe this smile off my face if I tried.
“Baby!” Crow yells the second I walk out of the hospital. “I tried to get to you but they wouldn’t tell me.”
“I can’t believe you,” I say feigning anger.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
“You are never to leave without telling me goodbye. How can I get my kisses if you don’t say bye? Pinky promise right now that it will never happen again,” I say extending my pinky to him.
JJ laughs and says, “That’s some shit my sister used to say. You pinky promise her and I am telling everyone!”
He wraps his pinky around mine and says, “Get gone, Motherfucker. I’ve got her today.”
“Bye, JJ!” I yell.
“Deuces!” He yells back and throws two fingers over his shoulder.
“JJ?” Crow asks.
“I’m not calling that man Motherfucker, Kane. Especially if he is going to be hanging out with me and J sometimes. Could you imagine him saying Motherfucker?” I laugh.
“I kind of can, that shit would be hilarious!”
“I know, but we can’t let him talk like that, Crow.”
I'm really missing my boy, five-fifteen needs to hurry up and get here already.
Chapter 14
Crow
“Baby? Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure, just let me grab a bottle of water. You want anything?”
She’s so thoughtful. It’s one of the many reasons I know what I am about to do is right. “I’m good.” I’m so fucking nervous.
She walks back into the room to sit on the couch and gives a sharp inhale, “Fuck!”
“Are you okay, babe?” I ask as my arms shoot out to try and help her. “Do you need me to get you some pain pills?”
“No, honey. I’ll be okay. I got something I want to talk about with you, too,” she says with a lopsided smile because that piece of shit hurt her. “What did you want to talk about?”
My heart is in my throat. Fuck, what if she says no? That will devastate me.
Stop being such a pussy and ask her already! She loves you!
I thought I would give myself a pep talk, that shit was not helpful at all. Self-help, my ass. "Inspiring" words by expensive ass charlatans who make millions spewing to the weak.
“Kane? Are you alright?”
“Uh, yeah. Just got caught up in my head there for a second.” My nerves are mutating like fucking gremlins over here. She’s looking at me with so much love in her eyes, fuck she is perfect. I grab her hand and rush out, “What if I adopted Jordan?”
She cocks her head to the side in confusion. "What?"
I drop to my knees in front of her and dig in my pocket for my great-grandmother’s engagement ring that was passed down the line from my great-grandfather to my grandfather to my father to me. It's a beautiful ring and will look amazing on her. It's a carat and a half cushion-cut diamond set in platinum. Along the face of the band is a gradient row of rubies on each side.
“Baby, you’re it for me. I have known that since the first time I saw you at Fallen. I was captivated. Then at the hospital, the first time I kissed you, that was ballgame for me. I have loved you as long as I have known you." I open the ring box and set it on her leg. She gasps and covers her mouth as tears stream down her face. “Marry me, baby? Marry me, and let me be little man's daddy?"
She cries and covers her mouth. “Are you sure?”
“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” I say with a smile. “So what do you say, baby? You and little man going to be mine forever?”
She lurches forward to wrap her arms around my neck and screams in pain. “Fuck off, already!”
“What?” Is she for real saying no?
“No, the pain I mean," she rushes. "Yes, I'll marry you! It would never be in the cards for anyone else." Tears continue to run down her beautiful face. "You are my biffle and my love, the other half of me."
I take the ring out of the box and prepare to slide it on her finger, but she stops me. “Babe?”
“I need to tell you something first,” she pauses as a fresh wave of tear cascade down her cheeks, making me nervous. “Dr. Wiley called me in because the results from my blood work came in.”
“Okay? Are you alright? Whatever it is--” I start to say as gut-wrenching unease chokes me, but Reagan interrupts me.
“No, my love. It’s nothing like that. My blood work showed an elevation of the hCG hormone," she smiles.
Where the fuck is Skylar when you need her?
“I need you to spell it out for me, baby.”
“The doctor said a level of five is a negative and a twenty-five is a positive. Mine was a twenty-three,” she smiles again, so I do too. “She said the between six and twenty-four is a gray area, so I need to be tested again.”
“You’re killing me here, Reagan,” I groan.
She lays her hands flat on her stomach and says, “I’m pregnant.”
I feel all the blood drain from my face. I snap the ring box shut and put some space between us. “You almost had me,” I laugh bitterly.
“What do you mean, Kane?”
“The names Crow. So who’s the lucky man?”
“What? Kane, I—”
“Don't call me that!" I yell at her, making her flinch. "Whose is it?!”
“W-what are you t-talking about? It’s y-yours.”
“I fucked you a week ago, there is no possible way for it to be mine. Peddle that bullshit to some other motherfucker.”
“What you are talking about, Cr-row?”
“This is so rich,” I laugh. “After all that shit you gave me over Cleo and you’re no better. How many guys have you been fucking? Do I need to worry about diseases from your rancid ass?”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” She asks as fire enters her eyes.
“Apparently a stupid whore who thinks I’m going to believe your lies,” I answer.
“You need to watch yourself, Crow, you’re stepping over the line of forgivable,” she whispers and wipes a tear from her cheek.
“I don’t apologize to nasty bitches who can’t keep their legs closed, so no need for forgiveness. And you can stop crying now, I’m onto you. But what were you hoping to get from this? What was your endgame?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Conveniently,” I sneer.
“How is you falsely degrading me minutes after you pledged your undying love convenient for me?”
“Is that why you got so mad last night when I wouldn’t tell your manipulating ass club business? Are you with the Rippers? You're probably the second woman from the mall abduction, aren't you?" I ask before realization dawns on me. "You orchestrated your attack, didn’t you?” A laugh escapes my throat. "Jokes on you though, huh? Your man get a little too rough for you?”
“How fucking dare you? That's way too far. You want me gone? Fine, I'm out. No back-peddling this time when you figure out your dumb ass overreacted, again. You can miss me with that shit.”
“It’s about time you figure it out.”
“Fuck you, Crow,” she spits.
“Been there, done that, wouldn’t buy the t-shirt,” I say with a chuckle. “I would like to know how you keep your pussy so tight? Any tips I can give to Cleo later?” I ask as I head toward the door.
“Get out.”
“Gladly,” I say as I slam the door behind me.
To Be Continued...
About the Author
A. Lynn is a self-published American author who—in her thirties—decided to take her love of books a step further, bringing the storie
s in her mind to life by putting them on paper. She is a lover of all things romance, whether it is dark, funny, or bully. Her favorite heroes are gritty, dirty talking, alphas. The anti-heroes, because who wants to be good all the time? But her heart belongs to MC romances, which has led her to her pen to paper and introduce everyone to the world of the Unsaintly Kings in the Loving Crow and Reclaiming Reagan Duet.