I don’t even protest this time. Zeke scans the paperwork then it flutters from his hands down to the ground.
“Zeke,” I whisper. I’m so scared. Everything is running through my head at once. What if the test results from when I was here before were wrong? I have a disease. I’m really sick. The possibilities are endless.
“Oh, my God. Am I dying?” I scramble up off the bed to get to him, not caring the IV in my arm is pulling tight.
My world begins to go fuzzy again, but only for a few seconds. Zeke turns to me, clutching my face in his strong hands, tears streaming down his face.
“We’re pregnant, Amelia.”
My mouth opens to speak, and yet I don’t know what to say. Thoughts race rampant in my head. Like, How in the fuck? or What in fuck? and mainly, This is fucking impossible. It’s wrong.
Now, it’s him coaching me. “Breathe, Bluebird.”
“Hartley, we need to get her back to surgery now.”
I sense the urgency in the other’s man voice, and then everything is a blur of action torpedoing around me. Zeke never once lets go of my hand, even when I’m being wheeled down the hall.
“I’m scared,” I peer up into his pools of green. “I’m talking like never-before scared. I haven’t had to process that we’re having a baby. What if something happens?”
“Baby, you’re in the best care possible. Nothing is going to happen to you or our baby. I promise.” This is so unfair. I’m going to be a mother, and I can’t think about that right now with the thoughts of being put under. Not having any control of my surroundings.
“I love you,” I say, my voice unsteady.
“I love you, Amelia Moore. Mother of my unborn child.”
“Baby, you in there?” The sound of his voice has me trying to sit up in bed.
“Hi,” I croak, reaching up to run my hand down the scruff on his face.
“It wasn’t ruptured. They ended up going in laparoscopy.”
I smile.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“You’re speaking a foreign language to me,” I muffle out. I’m groggy.
A knock comes at the door, and that’s when I realize I’m in my own room. A kind nurse stands there staring back at us with a portable device.
“Going to check for a heartbeat.” She walks in closer.
I slam my palms over my chest. “Thank God, my heart’s still working.” Zeke lets out a roll of laughter.
“Doctor, do you want to do the honors to see how far along she is? You might be able to hear the baby's heartbeat.” My baby. Our baby.
“I’d love nothing more, Mary, thank you.”
Through my haze-filled mind, I watch Zeke be a doctor. One of the many things he was born to do. My own heart flutters. My eyes remain focused on him. He looks so happy and content. Joyful and excited.
“This is going to cold.” He pulls the sheet down, squeezes some gel on my stomach, and I feel…I feel everything. His warm hand. The cold object and the way he moves it across my still flat belly. A vision is growing with our baby.
Rapid whooshes of sound fill the room.
“Amelia. Can you hear that? He or she is ours. You’re going to be a mother. I’m going to be a father. We’re having a baby, Bluebird. You’re finally flying.
“We’re going to be parents.” I still can’t believe how this happened, but I’ll take it as a sign of good fate.
I’ve never believed in God. In fact, I held firm the belief that Satan lived up in both heaven and hell. God is what weak and hopeless people believed to make themselves feel better.
I was completely wrong.
It took a man who refused to give up on me to make me believe in God. He risked everything and more. And now we are having a baby, all because of the grace of God. I’m not invisibly numb. I’m visible and flying.
Epilogue
She’s perched naked on her stool, painting like a woman on a mission. I came home and interrupted her session, scooped her up, and took her to bed.
She was undressed before I pounced on her. There’s just something about my Bluebird glowing with pregnancy that drives me insane.
I drop the bags to the floor then lean on the doorjamb watching her paint away. She doesn’t flinch at the noise. When I clear my throat after several long minutes, she finally lifts her head to look at me.
“Zeke, I’m about to cut off all your credit cards. No more,” she demands in her best pissed-off voice.
I stroll over to her just as naked as she is with my cock my pointing the way. “The jogging stroller is in the car. Has an iPhone speaker hook-up and everything.”
“Shit, you are officially insane.” She dips her brush into a glob of canary-red paint. “I told you to hold off on all this stuff. We probably won’t use half of it.”
I wrap my arms around her, splaying my hands across her growing belly. I watch her hand fly across the canvas. She’s incredibly good. Naturally gifted.
“Then is this a bad time to tell you I preordered a Keurig for baby bottles.”
“You’re an idiot. You know I’m going to be breastfeeding.”
I counter right back, loving to give her hell. “And you know my stance on that even knowing all of the health benefits of breastfeeding. I’m nowhere close to sharing those breasts with anyone, our child included.”
She giggles, throwing her head back onto my shoulder.
“What do you think?” she asks, completely ignoring me. She knows I’m kidding. I can’t wait to see Amelia and our baby bonding.
I hadn’t even studied her new piece, because everything she creates is brilliant, but this is on a whole new playing field. Nothing like I’ve seen before. The most radiant sunset with crashing waves in the foreground. Two silhouettes of women with their hands raised up to the sky and their hair blowing in the wind.
“I want to hang it in the Lost Angel’s headquarters on opening day.”
I can’t speak, unable to get out a single word.
“Zeke,” she asks, turning her face to my cheek.
“It’s perfect. I don’t know if I want to share it with the world, though.”
She presses a smile into my cheek. “You have to.”
“Is that…?”
“Yes, she brought me to you and freed me. It’s how I’d picture Clara and I sharing a sunset at the beach.”
“Three more months.” I run my palms over her swollen belly, choking back emotions.
“Feels like a decade to me. I’m huge.”
“You’re gorgeous,” I correct her.
I spin her around on the stool. Amelia glances down to my rock-hard cock then points.
“You need to get that thing checked out.”
“Why?” I shrug reaching over her for a clean paintbrush. “My sperm is indestructible, no match for birth control.”
“Condoms once the baby comes.”
“Simmer down there. I will not be putting another condom over my cock. Ever.” I paint a line across the bottom of her belly.
“What are you doing?”
“Painting a picture.”
Amelia tries to bend down to watch me. She huffs when our little one won’t allow it. My stick figures are shit, but my sun is spot-on art-gallery good. I grab her phone from her easel and snap a picture.
“Let me see.” She reaches for the phone. I draw my arm back. I’ve learned to be quicker than her.
“Just a second,” I murmur then spread her legs, aiming the phone between them.
“I am NOT going to have a crotch shot of my vagina on my phone, Zeke.” This time, she does grab the phone from me.
She stares at the picture, turning her phone from side to side, politely trying to make out the picture on her belly. I save her from her struggle and point to each piece.
“This is me, and this is you on a basketball court. We didn’t know it then, but it was the beginning of us falling in love.”
“Oh, thank God,” she breathes out. “I thought it was a cat be
ing strung up on Halloween.”
“You little shit.” I scoop her up in my arms, feeling her legs wrap around my middle.
Her infectious laughter always leaves me in a state of bliss that no one or threat can ever break through again.
“Do you think we’re going to have a little Saxon or a little Clara?” she asks as I walk us into the kitchen.
She chose the names. I wasn’t super fond of Saxon at first, but when she explained why, it made perfect sense. The two of them sat down one night in private, having a long conversation. Amelia claimed she didn’t want to know anything, but sometimes thinking what you need and actually having to close the door on old wounds are two different things. They bonded that night, and since then, it’s reminded me how my family used to be before Clara left. We are one tight unit.
I shrug, setting her down on the counter. “Spread those legs. I’m hungry.”
“Zeke.” She swats at my chest. “Deep down, what do you think it is?”
“Well, if you weren’t a stubborn brat, we would know and wouldn’t have to guess.”
“You know this means so much to me to be surprised.” She wraps her arms around my neck, kissing the tip of my nose. “I can’t even describe the feelings coursing through me.”
“I know, Bluebird.”
And that’s exactly why I won’t tell Amelia that in approximately three months, we will be bringing home a little Clara. C’mon, I’m a doctor. I had to peek during her mid-term ultrasound.
As my tongue starts circling around one of her nipples, I decide right there I’m really not happy to be sharing these. But I will. I’ll do anything for Amelia and our child.
Bonus Scene Bonus Scene
Brick
Motherfuckers are gonna die tonight. Blood will be shed and worn like a fucking gold medal. It’s too late to find redemption for Clara, but in the same sense, it is hers. With Curtis at my side, we creep into the hotel room. It’s a fancy fucker, probably a suite or the most expensive one this hotel has to offer.
The room is bathed in darkness as will their lives be in a few moments. The sound of rhythmic breathing fills the room. Curtis pulls back the curtain to allow just enough moonlight into the room. Wouldn’t be much fun if we didn’t get to see their faces, now, would it?
Tap. Tap. Tap. My pointer finger bounces on the bastard’s forehead. His eyes immediately spring open. I’m swifter covering his mouth with my leather-gloved hand while pushing the barrel of my pistol into his temple. It doesn’t stop him from kicking his legs, waking his wife.
Curtis follows suit, placing a hand over her mouth and his gun to her head.
“That’s right, motherfucker,” I growl. “Your nightmare is here.”
Curtis lets out a dark chuckle. “You really do love that line, don’t ya, brother?”
I’d flip him off, but my hands are a bit full right now. I look back down to the piece of shit trembling.
“Here we know someone in common, doctor. Going to take my hand off your mouth, and if you make one fucking sound, you’re dead.” I ease my gloved hand off his face but keep the barrel of my gun jammed to his temple.
“Amelia, ring a bell?” I ask then spit down on him.
He nods frantically.
“Talk, fucker.”
“She-she-she’s my stepdaughter. Haven’t s-s-s-seen her for years.”
“Interesting.” I flip down the blankets to see the coward has pissed himself. “Any reason why?”
“N-n-n-o.”
“Wrong motherfucking answer.” I aim for his dick and shoot. Not a sound is shed besides his cries that I muffle with my hand. The silencer on the end of my barrel making our job a piece of fucking cake. “Try again.”
“I-I swear.”
I swing my gun over to her mother, so she has two barrels pointed at her face. “You have any idea?”
She cries. The bitch sobs and cries when faced with answering questions about her daughter. In my book, this cunt is as much to blame as the stepdad. She let it happen.
Curtis’ phone begins to ring.
“Right on time.” I smile down at the soon-to-be-dead assholes.
Curtis answers and listens for only a moment before flipping his phone onto speaker. Katch ain’t keeping his victim none too quiet. Sent a fellow brother with him, Snake, and he must be having some fun.
“Thought you’d like to hear from your dear son.” I cross my arms over my chest with my gun resting against my side. “I’m fucking generous like that.”
Curtis barks out an order, “Anytime, boys.”
Katch’s voice streams across the line. “Say good-bye, cunt.”
The unmistakable shattering of a gun fires on the other end, followed by silence.
I’m ready to play a little longer, but my Prez is in charge. He moves the barrel of his gun to the woman’s temple.
“On three,” he announces.
“For Amelia,” I whisper then put my gun right between the fucker’s eyes.
“One, two, three.”
Lights out, motherfuckers.
Acknowledgments
To the readers…always to the readers. You are the ones who make our words come alive. Thank you.
If you feel you are invisible and life seems hopeless, always know there is help just a phone call away.
https://www.samhsa.gov/find-help/national-helpline
BRICK
“The Sexy World of Opposites Crashing Together.”
Brick
Copyright © 2017 by Torrid Timbre Press
Edited by: Julia Goda
Cover Designer: Just Write Creations
Photographer: Battershell Photography/Eric Battershell
Model: Alex Boivin
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
My partner left the dedication to me this time.
Heidi, this is for you!
Prologue
Brick
“She’s still not answering her phone. I’m worried.” My very pregnant sister-in-law Amelia waddles out on the deck, gives my brother those sad eyes that dare him to challenge her. He won’t. Fucker is whipped. Ball and motherfucking chain wrapped right around his dick.
Zoe was supposed to be here two hours ago for dinner. Another no-show. No call. No nothing. I should go over there and tell her to knock her shit off. Scare the piss out of her with words. She’s twisting Amelia up, who doesn’t need to be worrying about anyone else except herself and the baby.
If Amelia’s stomach gets any bigger, my brother won’t be plucking her cute little ass up outta her chair like he is now to sit down on his lap much longer, because if he does, they’ll both be yelling for help to get themselves off the ground. Amelia is huge and glowing. Even with the sad scowl on her face.
I hold in a laugh as I tip my beer back, my eyes checking out my brother. His sappy ass is always taking the world by the tail and going after what he wants. Bastard. No, make that fucking bastard. I love the guy, though. Regardless if he’s a pain in my ass at times. He’s one of the good guys in this world. Sincere, and that right there makes him the best brother I could ask for.
My main concern right now though isn’t Zoe. It’s the fact that Amelia is frowning when she should be smiling. My brother is irritated when he should be taking care of his wife. Fucking pansy ass over there rubbing the back of his neck like some fucking romance hero. Get your hands on your woman’s neck! Asshole. Rub her down. Her feet are red, swollen and from where I’m sitting they look to be on fire.
Damn. Listen to me thinking all sappy and shit.
> The shit her pregnancy has done to her body creeps me the fuck out the more I look at her swollen belly. It doesn't have a thing to do with her being bigger every time I see her. I ain’t never seen anything so cute in my life. It’s her swollen legs, always being tired, snippy, and peeing all the time. That shit would wear me the fuck out.
I’m a cold-stoned dickhead for thinking that way. I can’t seem to help it. The way her body has been stretching like a piece of elastic adjusting to the life inside of her freaks me out even more. I guess it’s Zeke’s medical training that keeps him calm, because I’d be raising hell. I can’t even fathom there’s a human inside her body. My blood. A niece, or nephew. Hot fucking damn. I’m about to be an uncle. Bring it the hell on. Even a heartless son-of-a-bitch man like me can’t wait to spoil my brother’s kid.
Zeke lifts his head, his gaze snapping defensively to mine.
What the hell?
“Maybe she was called into work. Maybe her son is sick. You never know when it comes to Zoe. Quit worrying. She’ll call. She always does.” Not sure who he’s trying to convince; we all know Amelia won’t stop her worrying. It’s her nature. She’s going to be one damn good mother. Makes me grateful as hell to her. So strong. Zeke struck gold with her. He knows it, too. Lucky fucker.
Christ, the way he enables the bullshitting stories Zoe comes up with is enough to make me ill. A fucking spade is a spade, and why not call it out? She ain’t going to call until that dick of a boyfriend lets her. We all know it, and yet here we sit not doing a damn thing about it. And the coward award goes to? I grip the back of my neck in the same way my brother did, trying to release the tension. It’s not working one bit, might, though, if I were squeezing the back of Zoe’s boyfriend's neck. If given a chance, I’ll snap it in half.
Zoe did shit to me I’ve never admitted to anyone. I wanted her from the first day I saw her. Thought she was a spitfire full of life.
When Opposites Collide Boxset Page 43