***
I got out of the hospital the next day. I was still beat up and sore as fuck, my cracked ribs hadn't healed properly yet, and my back and kidneys hurt so much I could barely stand up straight. Despite it all, I refused to let the nurses take me out in a wheelchair. I had spent two days in bed, and I had had enough of the whole convalescent bullshit. It was time get back to hustlin'.
Well, not hustlin' like I used to, of course.
Ma barely spoke to me for like a week. I think she was just kind of numb from the shock of what I had told her. I didn't blame her for needing her space, but I still felt bad. Guilt hung around me like a dark cloud. I wished there was something I could do or say to make it better for her, but... what? I had told her the truth, and now I was running myself ragged looking for a "real job." Ma was looking for work too, in spite of me repeatedly telling her not to. I wasn't gonna see her get sick from stress again, I refused. I'd sell my kidney before I saw my poor Ma work herself to death again.
Unfortunately, for my own job search, the market was pretty rough. I was rough. For that first week, I still walked kinda weird, limping a little and my back was kinda crooked. Between my weird walk and my beat-up, bruised face, nobody wanted to hire me. They wouldn't even talk to me. When I made phone calls, I was confident that I'd have more luck because they couldn't see me, but then I ran into a different obstacle that I hadn't dealt with before:
Professionalism.
It was a big word with a real vague definition, but apparently, even bartenders had to be a certain type of "professional." I noticed as I called around, that they all talked a certain way and acted a certain manner. I, however, talked... well, I talked like an angry sixteen-year-old hellion, didn't I? Cause I had never learned any better. I joined the Gray Wolves when I was sixteen and they didn't give a shit how I talked, they only cared how good I was with a monkey wrench and whether I could hold my own in a fight. I started looking at mechanics' shops, too, but work there was even scarcer, and my name was sorta well-known. Not like I was famous or anything, but the community was tight, and if one guy knew about me, the rest of 'em would too.
Almost a month went by with me frantically looking for work. I picked up some side jobs here and there, handyman type crap and mechanic work where they could pay me under the table, but no permanent gigs. I pulled every string I knew with my guys, but nothing came up. It probably didn't help that after a month, my face wasn't fully healed yet, and my nose would probably be crooked forever.
Justin did all he could to pitch in. Ma couldn't find a job, either, because nobody wanted to hire a fifty-year-old woman who hadn't worked in ten years. Our financial straits were dire, but somehow, we survived. I just prayed that nothing came up with Justin before we had some kinda stable income. His arm was still all messed up, and sometimes, I could hear him crying at night because it hurt him so bad... but it had to wait. We still didn't have the money. I just hoped it didn't spiral into an infection or something because Justin was now technically the breadwinner of the household.
That made me feel like shit. Actually, everything made me feel like shit these days, everything made me feel like a miserable failure... except one thing.
Candy.
We texted every morning, and we talked every night, sometimes for hours. No matter how low I was, she would build me back up somehow. I had no idea how she did it, but I always felt like a new man after talking to her. She claimed I did the same for her, that when she was stressed and down on herself I made her feel better, but I didn't see how I was doing that. I wasn’t doing anything special. Our conversations, however, kept me going. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would've started drinking again or worse. In a lot of ways, I felt like I was on the edge, but Candy kept me safe and sane.
I loved her so damn much.
I wanted to go visit her, but it seemed like an extravagant sort of a waste of money when we could barely even put food on the table.
Until one day, Candy called me in the middle of the day. I had just finished mowing the grass for the first day of spring, and I was outside, beating the clippings off my shoes when my cell rang. I thought it was weird because we usually "scheduled" our calls for later at night on purpose and only texted during the day. I wondered if something was wrong and my heart sped up as I answered the call.
"Ty!" She was in tears, I mean she was hysterical, and talking a mile a minute. I couldn't understand a damn word.
"Whoa, whoa, honey, slow down. What's wrong?" I rubbed my forehead, trying to summon the patience not to yell at her because hearing her that upset scared the shit out of me. I was already scheming in my head how I could get to her and fix it— whatever "it" was. But I couldn't do that until she calmed down enough to tell me. She, however, just kept crying and my mind was racing through every worst-case scenario possible that would have my level-headed angel this upset. Candy couldn't be in tears. Ever. I never wanted to hear her like that again. The sound of her crying was like a dagger piercing through my heart. "Breathe, baby doll, breathe."
Candy seemed to take my advice, because for a few, brief moments, silence ensued.
"Okay," I said. "I didn't catch a word of what you just said. What's wrong, babe?"
"Ty—" Her voice wavered, thick with tears, "I'm pregnant."
***
Candy was gonna have a baby— my baby. We were gonna be parents. It was terrifying. I was not ready, I had never imagined myself as a dad or whatever, but as soon as she said it, my world lit up, and I knew I wanted a family. I saw us in a big house in the country somewhere with Ma there to help take care of her grandchildren. I imagined Justin would come visit us often, but I already knew he'd be going to college in Philly, probably, and get an apartment there. My heart ached as I realized that Candy and her baby were all I wanted in the entire fucking universe. I had no idea how it was gonna work out with my being broke and out of work and everything, but we were gonna make it work.
I was gonna be a father.
Even though I was no longer with the Gray Wolves, Charlie was still my best friend. I had avoided asking anyone for help this past month, but now, I just had to get to Penn State to see Candy. I had to see her. I had to hold her, to kiss her. I had no money and no bike, nothing, so I called Charlie and explained what was happening. He congratulated me in a giddy voice and then asked how he could help. And if you don't know anything about bikers, you should know that our motorcycles are practically our children. Well, maybe a little less than that, but we love our bikes. A lot. They were big, important parts of our lives. And without hesitation, Charlie said, "Take my bike, man, however long you need it. I'll loan you some cash for gas and stuff. You've gotta go to her."
I knew I wasn't supposed to cry and everything, so it was a good thing we were talking on the phone, 'cause I did get a little choked up.
"Thanks, man," I said gruffly. "I'll meet you downtown in an hour."
Philly to the main campus of Penn State was usually about a three-hour ride. I made it in a little over two.
I hadn't told Candy I was coming because I wanted to surprise her, but when I got to campus I realized I had no idea where she stayed. Was she in the dorm? Did grad students even have dorms? Did she have an apartment in town? I rode around for a while, feeling stupid, trying to think of some way I could find out, but I wasn't much good at covert shit like that. Finally, I just relented and called her. She didn't answer. I guess she was in class or something, so I sent her a text.
Hey darlin, I'm on campus. I had to see you. Tell me where to meet you.
After that, I settled in to wait, since I had no idea how long it might be until she had a chance to respond. To my surprise, she came back almost immediately with:
In grad apartments. Can't call now. Brad at my place :(
I had never before been tested like this, but it amazed me, looking back on that day, how little it took to send me into a frenzy, torn between rage and frantic fear for the woman I loved.
Ten words and a
frowny face.
Ten words and a frowny face, and suddenly I was on the bike, tires squealing and engine deafening, headed toward the cluster of residential buildings across campus. I didn't know I could run that fast, but I hauled ass, drawing quizzical looks and disapproving stares as I darted from building to building, reading the signs just carefully enough to make sure it wasn't the building I wanted. Finally, I found the grad student building, but I couldn't get in. The front door was secured and you couldn't get in unless you had a key card.
"CANDY!" I bellowed, banging on the glass with both hands, my voice shrill with panic. I took out my phone and texted her again.
Can't get in the building which apartment r u?
No answer.
Which apartment r u??
No answer.
I tried to call her, but she didn't pick up. I was pacing back and forth in front of the building like a crazy person, muttering to myself and shaking all over, thinking of what that piece of shit psychotic frat boy might do to my angel. I kept thinking of her trying to face him, imagining her so weak and frail and him, a big hulking loser, looming over her. The thought drove me fucking crazy and I screamed again, "CANDY!"
Unbeknownst to me, as I was having a complete mental and emotional breakdown on the lawn in front of the grad apartments, someone had seen me flipping out and had called security. I was still pacing, looking up at the building. I spotted some open windows and I was calculating whether I could climb up the side of the building and get inside when a team of four security guards approached me. One of them had a can of mace in hand.
"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave the premises," one of them said.
"No! You don't understand, it's my girlfriend, she's—"
"You're not authorized to be here," said another guard, "and you're causing a disturbance—"
"Goddamn right I'm causing a disturbance, my girl is up there and she's—"
"Sir—"
"Would you let me finish!?" I cried, but the security guards were not interested in my story. All four of them stepped forward to grab me and I hollered, trying to get away, but honestly, I had a little bit of a flashback to when the Wildcats assaulted me and I kinda froze up. I didn't hit a single one of them. I was terrified. I almost pissed myself, I was so fuckin' scared.
As they grabbed me by the arms and dragged me off, my brain kicked back into gear. I started screaming her name, thrashing wildly, trying to yank myself free of their hold, when suddenly, my phone slipped out of my jacket. As it fell to the ground I saw that I had a new response from her. "Read the fucking text—" I snapped at the guy who picked up my phone, "she's not safe."
"Oh wow," the guy murmured, his eyes going wide as he read the text. "This guy's not a complete lunatic, look at this." He showed the phone to the ring leader and all four let go of me at the same time.
"Let's go," My phone was thrust back in my hands and I followed the guards closely. As I ran after them, I looked at the response glowing on the screen in my hand:
Appt 4D. HELP
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Candace
The last weeks of the semester after spring break were always the most stressful. Final papers were due, project deadlines coming up. I missed Ty and it was difficult for me to remember to eat, so I didn't really think twice about missing my cycle. I wouldn't have even taken a pregnancy test, but then I started puking in the morning. It was kind of unsettling. At first, I thought I had the flu, but then, as I was talking to one of my closer female friends at school, I remembered having sex with Ty and we hadn't used a condom. I tried not to think about it, I tried to tell myself I was being silly, but then, I was quickly obsessed. I couldn't stop worrying about whether I was pregnant or not, so after two days of fretting and losing sleep, I dragged myself to the drug store and bought a pregnancy test.
I did it, and it came up positive, but I didn't believe my eyes. Being the neurotic perfectionist I am, I went back to the drug store and bought two of every available brand. The cashier looked at me like I was crazy and I mulishly avoided making eye contact.Within an hour, I was on my bathroom floor, surrounded by a dozen positive pregnancy tests, crying my eyes out.
The worst part was, I couldn’t be sure who the father was.
I had had sex with Brad like a week before I was with Ty and both times were without a condom. The thought of having Brad's child made me want to crawl out of my skin. The thought of having Ty's child made my heart soar. The thought of having a child, period, was fucking terrifying.
I cried myself to sleep, puked in the morning, and went to class feeling weak and exhausted. I felt like this was a good time to call Ty because I thought I was too tired to get overly emotional. But when I heard his voice, I came completely undone.
My friends could tell that there was something wrong with me. I hadn't told anyone else yet because I was scared, and part of me honestly wasn't sure I could keep this baby. The thought of going to grad school while pregnant was kind of depressing, but it was even more depressing to think of quitting grad school to have a baby. The mountain of responsibility that came with a baby scared the shit out of me and I didn't know if I was mentally stable enough to handle it... in fact, the mere thought of being forced to gain a bunch of weight to keep the baby healthy, really upset me. I mean, I know it sounds shallow and selfish... but that's why I felt like I couldn't keep it. What kind of a mother would even have thoughts like that?
But talking to Ty, once I calmed down enough to tell him what was going on, really helped. His voice always made the ground feel more solid beneath my feet. He sounded shocked and a little dismayed at first, but then I heard the excitement creep into his voice. A tenderness that I had always seen in him, but multiplied by many times. Talking to Ty made me feel warm, from the pit of my stomach, right up to my cheeks. He spoke to me softly, gently, he reassured me, and I hung up feeling a lot better.
But that night, as I drifted off to sleep, I realized that I hadn't told Brad. Finding out I was pregnant was one thing, but what would he do once I told him I didn’t know who the father is?
Wrestling with that thought kept me awake until dawn. I started debating with myself about whether I should try and talk to him at all. Honestly, I had never been so anxious in my life, because didn't Brad have a right to know it was his if it was? Didn't he deserve to know there was a chance I would have his baby? Then again, I didn't care about Brad anymore. If I was gonna be with anyone, I wanted it to be Ty Jameson Franklin and no other man on earth would do. In that respect, the baby was already his...
But what if it wasn't?
I couldn't lie to Ty. It was bad enough that I had forgotten to tell him yesterday. I hoped he wouldn't be too upset, but there was no way I could keep it from him any longer. The guilt would drive me insane. And as I felt guilty for not telling Ty, I suddenly felt bad for not telling Brad a thing. I knew it was the right thing to do, and ethically, it seemed wrong to keep it from him.
So, after staying in bed until almost noon, nibbling on a few crackers for breakfast, and sending Ty a "Call me when you can" text,I made a bad decison.
I called Brad.
"Hey?" he said, sounding so smug I almost hung up on him, but the guilt turned my stomach again.
"Hey," I said. "Do you, um... have a minute? I need to talk to you."
A few seconds of silence followed. "Uh, I mean... I guess so. What is it?"
My heart pounded. My throat closed. I'm pregnant. I couldn't say it. I held my breath.
"Candace?"
"Yeah, yeah... sorry.Could you, uh... come over, maybe?"
"Ugh..."
"Sorry, it won't take long, but it's really important."
"Fine. I'll be there in half an hour."
I was so nervous and frightened that I almost gave myself a panic attack as soon as I hung up. I lay down on the couch with my eyes closed, hugging my abdomen, riding wave after wave of dizziness, trapped in an endless hamster wheel of my own thoughts.
And then came a knock on the door.
I got up so fast that my vision blacked out and I stumbled, grabbing the doorknob as my knees gave out. Cursing, I opened the door and struggled to stand, repulsed by the sight of my horrible ex-boyfriend.
"Jesus," he muttered. "You look like hell. Did you relapse? Oh my god, did you shoot up?"
"No," I snapped, shutting the door a bit too loudly behind him. "I'm fine. Well, I'm not fine, I—"
"Yeah, I'll say. You've got dark circles under your eyes and you're really pale. I can tell you're weak just by how you're moving. It's kinda pathetic."
"Fuck you."
"You look like you lost weight though—"
"Fuck off!" I cried, burying my face in my hands, wishing I hadn't called him. It wasn't until he was there, throwing barbs at my self-esteem that I realized he didn't need to know. I could've dealt with this thing either way without his involvement. Shit, I didn't even want him involved. I just felt like I "should" tell him, but now, I felt stupid. My phone buzzed in my pocket, Ty was texting me. I responded, unable to stop a little smile from curling on my lips.
"The fuck are you smiling about?" Brad grumbled. "Are you gonna tell me why you called me or you gonna just read your texts all day?"
"Ty is what I'm smiling about, and... I..." I looked up at Brad, and a sudden surge of anger made me spit it out, "I'm pregnant and I don't know if it's yours or his."
Brad frowned, then crossed his arms. "So?"
"So... I thought you might want to know that you might have a kid on the way?" I said, matching his interrogative tone mockingly. "Don't you care?"
"I mean... until you know whether it's mine or not, why should I care?"
"You son of a bitch," I spat, "I don't know why I ever dated you! How can you be so nonchalant about this!? I'm pregnant for fuck's sake! This is a big deal, you asshole!" I took a step toward him, my hands balled into fists at my sides. I could feel my rational mind coming unhinged from stress, anxiety, fear, hunger, sleep deprivation, and sheer hatred of the so-called man in front of me. "If I knew it was yours I'd seriously consider having an abortion you limp-dick piece of shit!"
Trust Me: A Bad Boy MC Romance Page 11