Shake, Rattle and Roll: The Baxter Boys #4 (The Baxter Boys ~ Rattled)

by Charles, Jane

  “Fake coffee is good,” he says. “It’s too late to be drinking the real stuff anyway.”

  When we get to the apartment, I make half a pot. I only plan on having one cup, but Christian might drink more. He wanders around until I tell him to take a seat. It’s like he’s uncomfortable here. Maybe he is and I can’t blame him since there is tension of the unknown of what is going to happen.

  “I screwed up,” he blurts out after I hand him a cup of coffee and take a seat at the opposite end of the couch.

  “How?” I need him to tell me. I need to know if what he thinks is a screw up is the same as I think.

  He takes a deep breath. “I’m really bad at getting in my head, keeping things to myself and doing things on my own.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I am not going to make this easy on him. This is too important to give him a pass.

  “When I saw that positive, it was a kick in the gut. A future flashed of cancer, surgery, possible impotence, chemo and death.”

  My jaw drops. “We did the research. You know how unlikely that was.”

  “Didn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “I took the worst possible scenario and made it true and as soon as I did that, I knew I couldn’t drag you along with me.”

  “You didn’t give me a choice.”

  “I knew what it would be.” He takes a drink of the coffee. “You are too good, too sweet, too kind, and even if you got tired of me, you wouldn’t kick me when I was down and would have stuck around to the end even if you didn’t want to be there. Everything was too new to ask that of you, not like we’d been together for years.”

  “I would have stuck around because I cared.”

  He looks up at me. “But, I was in love with you and it was too much to ask.”

  My stomach flips. In love? With that, my heart starts pounding.

  “I wanted to save you from the ugliness and free you for what was to come.”

  I get his reasons, I really do. “Did it even occur to you that I might have fallen in love with you too?”

  He set the cup on the table and turns fully toward me. “Did you?”

  “Doesn’t matter.” I’m not giving him that yet. “I can’t be with someone who is going to shut me out when things go south. You didn’t even talk to me.”

  “What if I promise never to do that again?”

  “How can I trust that you won’t when that’s how you’ve always been?”

  “My word.” He holds out his hands. “That’s all I have right now.”

  The sincerity is in his dark brown eyes and I know he means it with his entire being right now, but until there is another upset in his life, I won’t know if he can really be that open. “We’ll take it slow, okay.” He just doesn’t know that the other shoe will be dropping in a few weeks, but I can’t tell him about the baby until then. It’s too soon.

  “So, I still have a chance. A new start? Do over?”

  “Yes,” I finally admit. I do want him, and I’m in love with Christian, but I’m going to stay guarded until I don’t need to be anymore.

  45

  Hope! At least I have that. It’s more than I had when I arrived earlier.

  Did she fall in love with me too? Did she fall out and can I get her to fall again?

  “So, tell me what Preston said to you.”

  I wouldn’t talk about it at Bee Bee’s, but if Bethany is truly going to be in my life like I want her to be, all decisions will now be jointly made. By the time I’m finished, her blue eyes are wide and she’s smiling. “That is wonderful.”

  “I guess, but it makes me nervous.”

  “Why?”

  “The unknown, I guess. I still don’t know how it’s going to work.” The offer is almost too good to be true, but we didn’t talk money or any details yet, and Preston may have just told me what I wanted to hear just to get me to agree to a meeting.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Preston is going to schedule a meeting. I’ll hear them out, and if it is legit and something I’m willing to do, I’ll have Johnny look over any contract.”

  “Have you really written about two dozen songs?” she asks.

  “Most of them suck,” I assure her.

  “I don’t believe you and won’t until I hear them.”

  “Who says I’m going to play them?” I counter with a tease.

  “You will if you are going to share everything with me.”

  Inwardly I cringe because those early songs are really bad because I was just getting it together and figuring things out. But, if that’s what I need to do to prove myself, I will. “Okay, but not all at once. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”

  She laughs and settles back.

  “So, where will that leave you with taking over Louie’s spot?”

  “Don’t know yet.” I take a deep breath and blow out. “Honestly, my heart is more in that club and those guys than any recording deal”

  “What if you can do them both?”

  That’s a possibility I hadn’t even considered. “Maybe I can.”

  “If you had to choose one, what would it be?”

  My gut already knows the answer. “What would you want?”

  Bethany shakes her head. “This is your career, not mine, and I can’t figure into it.”

  “But you do. I want to spend time with you. Taking Louie’s place means I’m playing in the club from 8 until midnight, Tuesday through Saturday. It’s kind of hard to date like that.

  “I’m going to be working at the hospital from eleven at night until seven in the morning Thursday through Monday.”

  Shit. We’ll never see each other. “So, the record deal, if it works out, would be better for us.”

  She leans forward and looks me right in the eye. “What works better for us is the one that makes you happy?”

  “If I’ll never see you, what is the point?”

  “What is the point if you are doing something that makes you miserable so you can be with me?”

  “I’ll see you more.”

  “You won’t be happy though. It’s like asking me to give up nursing because the hours suck just so I can be with you. I wouldn’t even if you asked,” she tells me bluntly. “Neither should you make any career decisions based on me. If we are going to be together, we will make it work, but if either one of us is sacrificing and not doing what we really want to be doing, someone is going to be unhappy and resentment will follow.”

  She does have a point. I wouldn’t give up music even for Bethany, but that doesn’t help with the immediate decision. “It’s going to be twice as hard in the fall when you go back to school.”

  Bethany bites her lips and looks down. “I’m not going back to school,” she says softly.

  What the hell changed? I thought she wanted to be a physician’s assistant. “Why?”

  “Tired of school, I guess. The cost is another. I may change my mind in the future, but right now, I think I’ll just work and be an adult.”

  “Your decisions are being an adult,” I point out. It’s not like she’s doing nothing while going to school.

  “I need to work at the hospital full time to survive financially and going to school at the same time will be too hard. When would I even sleep?” she finally says.

  I hate that she has to give up on something she wants, but if I could make more money I could help her out. But, given how this conversation is going, I already know her answer will be a big fat no. “So, what do I do?”

  “Nothing right now.” She gets up and takes her empty coffee cup into the kitchen. “Meet with the band tomorrow, then meet with Preston. See if either are a fit, then go from there.” She turns and faces me, leaning back against the counter. “You can’t really decide anything without more information.”

  “But if I go with the band, we’ll hardly see each other.” That is what gets me. I don’t want to have to choose between Bethany and the band. My heart is where I first heard music, but a recording deal coul
d get me a lot more money. Plus, it’s really awesome to hear my songs on the radio.

  “No decisions until you have more information. Go where your gut leads. If we are meant to be, we will make it work.”

  “If?”

  “I need time.”

  And that is all on me. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

  “I know, but you need to understand that I’m guarded for now.”

  “For now?” As in not always.

  “For now.” She smiles before hiding a yawn behind her hand. “I need sleep. It’s been a long day.”

  Do I stay or go?

  “You can sleep here, or you can leave.”

  Finally, an easy decision.

  “But, no sex,” she insists.

  Still, an easy decision. “I’d like to stay.”

  “Good, I prefer you to be my big pillow.”

  I blink open my eyes and roll away from Christian. Crap. Why the hell did I ask him to stay? Nausea churns in my stomach like it does every single morning. Early, like now, before the alarm is supposed to go off. Not that I needed to set one last night.

  Sliding to the side of the bed, I carefully get out, hoping I don’t wake him, and then slip behind the pulled curtain, keeping any light from the room.

  If I can get toast in me maybe I won’t be sick. It hasn’t worked yet, and it at least gives me something to vomit so I don’t have dry heaves, but it needs to work today. Especially today, if it doesn’t, I can only pray that Christian doesn’t hear me puke.

  To hell with toast, I don’t have time. Instead, I grab the bread and bite into a slice, then take small sips of water between other nibbles. Then I put the tea kettle on to heat some water for peppermint tea. While I’m waiting for that to boil, I munch on some saltine crackers. This has to work. It has to.

  I can’t puke now and Christian cannot know about the baby yet. I have a lot more hope in us than I did a few days ago, but it’s still too soon.

  My stomach contracts and rolls.

  Shit!

  I run into the bathroom and shut the door behind, turn on the water full blast, hoping it will mask any sounds, and barely make it to the toilet.

  After I’m finished, I flush the toilet and rest my head against the cold shower door and pray he’s still asleep.

  My heart sinks when I open the door and find him standing there, a look of concern in his deep brown eyes.

  I’ve been able to hedge about the decaf coffee, not drinking alcohol last night, the crackers from yesterday, but I have nothing to explain about getting sick and I can’t lie. But, I can hope he doesn’t ask.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” That’s not a lie. “Why are you up so early?”

  He holds up his phone.

  Dylan: You still alive?

  I snort. “You better answer him. After last time, they might send in the National Guard.” Going past him, I grab one of the herbal tea bags my aunt made and drop it into a cup and wait for the water to get hot.

  “How’s this?” He holds the phone back up.

  Me: Yep

  Dylan: Good. With Bethany?

  Me: Yep.

  Dylan: Even better. Did I wake you?

  Me: No. Something else did.

  Dylan: Much better

  Me: Not so certain about that.

  Dylan: Problems with you know...

  Me: No problem there. Talk later.

  The tea kettle whistles and I turn off the stove and pour hot water into my cup. He heard me throwing up. I knew it before, but now I have confirmation.

  “Can I get you coffee or tea?” I offer. “Or me,” I say more quietly, half joking and trying to make light of the situation.

  “Of the three, most definitely you.”

  It’s so wrong, but maybe sex will make him forget what just happened.

  So, so wrong, but I’m not ready for this discussion. It’s two weeks too soon.

  Who am I kidding? I was never going to be ready to tell him.

  “But, not before you tell me why you just lied to me.”

  I can’t look up and just let my teabag seep. “I didn’t lie.”

  “I heard you throwing up but you came out and said you are fine.”

  “I am.”

  “Fine people don’t puke.”

  “Sure they do.”

  I can feel his eyes on me and I’m afraid to look up. Why is this so hard?

  “So, what about all that honesty and not shutting out. That’s only a rule for me and not you?”

  What the hell can I say to that? He’s right, but this is different, which is an argument that he won’t buy.

  “Bethany,” he says in a softer tone. “What is wrong? Why were you just sick? Don’t tell me it’s nothing because it is. You can’t even look at me.”

  Because he’ll see the tears and I can’t be vulnerable. Not right now.

  “It’s too soon.”

  “What’s too soon?”

  “To say anything.”

  “About what?”

  I can hear the frustration in his voice, I can’t put this off any longer. “Remember when my test was negative and yours wasn’t?”

  “Yes,” he says slowly.

  I take a sip of tea, hoping it will calm my nerves, but it doesn’t. I knew it wouldn’t. I’m stalling. “Mine was wrong.”

  Silence greets me and I’m still too afraid to look up.

  46

  Shock, punch to the gut, euphoria, all mixed up and I can’t focus on a single emotion. Did she just tell me what I thought she did? “Are you pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  The answer is so quiet that I almost don’t hear her.

  Shock. That hits the strongest and I sink to a stool by her kitchen island. Anger follows quickly, however. She’s pregnant with my child and didn’t bother to tell me? That pisses me off.

  “Were you ever going to tell me? If we never spoke again would I even know I have a kid?”

  “I was going to tell you.”

  “When?” I don’t want to yell at her, but that life in her body is part of me. All I’ve wanted is something that is mine and she’s kept it from me.

  “Two weeks.”

  “Two weeks? Why not before? Why is two weeks so important?”

  “I was waiting to get through the first trimester, and then, well, it wouldn’t be much of a secret after that since my jeans are already getting snug.”

  “So, it wasn’t forever, just the beginning you were keeping from me.”

  “We weren’t together.”

  “That should make a difference?”

  She jerks and her head lifts and I can finally look into her eyes. Anger sparks. “When you pushed me away, I pretty much figured I was alone in this.”

  That is another punch to the gut. She’s right. “That’s different. This is different.”

  She’s shaking her head. “How? What difference would it have made? Would you have suddenly wanted to be a couple again?”

  “Yes!” I yell. That is exactly what I would have done.

  “And the very reason I didn’t tell you yet.”

  She takes another drink from her tea, then a deep breath and holds a hand over her stomach. Is she going to get sick again?

  “We were a couple when there was a chance I was pregnant. You sat right there on the couch and told me that. But, as soon as it was negative and you were positive, we weren’t a couple any longer and I was out of your life.”

  My gut tightens. A lot of this is on me. But she should have still told me that she was pregnant before now.

  “I don’t want anyone to be with me because I’m pregnant. They need to be with me because of me. I knew that if I told you, you’d be back and I didn’t want to always wonder if it was because of me or the baby.”

  “Would you have ever told me?” I know she gave the two week or first trimester excuse, but a part of me fears that I would have never found out. Except, I would have. She and Mary are friends and eventually Dyla
n would have found out and he would never keep that from me.

  “Of course. I’d never keep your child from you. I just needed to wait long enough for my heart to heal. I figured I had until delivery to get there. There was no reason for you to know before.”

  “Bethany, I’ve always wanted you. Pregnant or not.”

  “Really?”

  “I didn’t want to tie you to a dying guy, or a guy who might have his balls cut off. Or a guy who could never be with you in an intimate way, or a guy who could never give you kids. You deserved more.”

  “Yet, you didn’t give me a choice. You shut me out.”

  “I thought it was best.”

  “And I thought it best that you didn’t know I was pregnant until you were done with treatment.”

  “Do you know how many nights I laid awake, afraid that I’d be alone forever? Afraid that I’d never have a family of my own? Afraid that I’d be on the sidelines, a fond uncle, while my friends married and had kids? Had I known, I would have had hope.” She had no right to keep this from me.

  “You are the one who told me to go away that day in the hospital.” Her tone is cold and hard. “You never bothered to call or apologize, and each day I went without hearing from you the more resolved I became to just do this on my own.”

  “And never tell me.”

  Bethany throws up her hands and storms away. “I was going to tell you. I never intended to keep your child from you. I needed the time and I have that right, but you would have learned long before it was born.”

  I believe her and if I hadn’t been such a fucking jerk, I would have known earlier.

  I take a deep breath and sit back down. I am the one who pushed her away and shut everything down—all the good that was turning into us. Can I really blame her from keeping this from me? “Did you plan on raising it on your own?”

  “I plan on being a single mother, but I hoped that when the time came, and you found out, that you’d be a single father. It was never my intention to keep your child from you.” Her voice softens.

  That is a relief at least. “So, you were what, thinking visitation or something?”