by LK Collins
Fuck, her pussy is tight.
I pump myself inside of her using slow, long strokes. Her body trembles under my hold as she cries with pleasure. Her eyes are closed and she has her bottom lip tucked tightly in between her teeth. A few moments pass while I stare at her. She’s a frozen statue of perfection being held in my arms, tiny trembles moving through her from what we just did.
In that moment, I want to tell her that I love her. But I don’t, I puss out, and instead pull my dick out of her and turn off the water. Stepping out, I hand her a towel and then grab one for me.
“So you are feeling better?” I ask.
“After that, how could I not be?”
“I’m being serious, babe.”
She dries herself off and says, “Yeah, I feel good. Did you talk to Tom?”
“Yeah, he said we need to be at the station tomorrow and we should plan on at least a week.”
She nods her head and walks into her closet. “Okay. Will I get to see you at all while you cover there?”
“I’m not sure, but you know I’ll be thinking about nothing but you. And I’ll text you like a first class stalker.”
“You better only be thinking of me,” she teases and throws her towel out to me.
“You know it, kitten. Do you mind if I run home and pack some stuff for the week and feed Puss? Then we can spend our last night together.”
“Sure, that would be great. I need to do my laundry and run to the bank.”
“Cool. Would you mind feeding Puss while I’m gone?”
“Of course I will,” she says.
I get dressed and walk into the bathroom. Cara is fighting with her hair and I just have to laugh at her.
“What are you laughing at?” she scolds.
“You and your hair?”
“You better wipe that smirk off of your face or I’ll beat you with my hairbrush.”
I put my hands up to signal defeat. She points her brush at me and I kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back soon, baby.”
As I walk out of her condo, I lock the front door behind me. Deciding to call my dad while I drive home, I dial and he answers right away.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Son, is everything okay?”
I chuckle, knowing I’ve earned the question. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”
“Just checking. I never hear from you anymore. How’s my oldest son?”
“I’m good. Listen, I need your advice. I want to tell Cara that…well, that I think I love her and I don’t know how to say it.”
“I can tell you not to start the conversation out with, ‘I think I love you.’”
“You know what I mean. I’ve wanted to tell her for a while, but I don’t know how or what the right words are.”
“I get that those situations are hard, but I honestly think going into them with an open mind and no agenda is best. You’re overthinking all of this. When it feels right, speak from your heart. Let every word come as it does. That’s what I did with your mom.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I looked at her one day and couldn’t stop the words. They just came out. That’s what happened with your brother too. Don’t think so much about it, Son. The time will come and you’ll know when it’s right.”
“I never thought about it like that. Thank you.”
“Of course. Speaking of, how is Cara?”
“She’s okay. She had the flu, but is finally feeling better today. I think she got it from the hospital.”
“She’s not pregnant is she?”
“Oh, hell no. She’s better today. Why would you even ask? It was just a twenty-four hour bug.”
“Just thought I’d ask. Send my love to her and tell her that I’m happy she’s feeling better.”
“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”
After we hang up, I think back to his comment. Could she be pregnant? God, please no, I’m not meant to be a dad. I’ve been down that road once and vowed to never do it again.
Chapter 21
Choices
My bags are packed and I have one errand left. After that I can’t wait to spend one last night with Cara. The drive across town takes about thirty minutes, but Vincent promised me this was the best jeweler for what I need in the quickest turnaround time. As I pull in and park, there aren’t any other cars. I walk into the small, standalone building in the center of the strip mall parking lot. I don’t see anyone working and start to look through the cases.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
I look up to see a short, elderly man who has a thick pair of glasses on. “It’s okay, I was just looking around.”
“What brings you in?” he asks.
“I was hoping you have infinity bracelets”
“Oh yes, I do. They’re on this side.” He walks to the other counter and I follow him across the store. Vince was right -- tucked in the case is a huge selection. I’d heard about these and never knew exactly what they were ‘til I talked to Alexa. I scan over the selection of bracelets with the well-known figure eight design, searching for the one and then I spot it.
It’s gold, like Cara loves, with a double infinity symbol, both of which are diamond encrusted. It leads into a thick gold band -- exactly what I want. “Can I see that one?”
“This is by far one of my favorites,” he says as he hands it to me. Holding it in the palm of my hand, the metal is heavier than I expected. Looking it over, it’s perfect.
“I’ll take it. I heard you also do engraving?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can you do it for me now? I can pay extra for the rush.”
He looks at the clock, and then hands me a pad of paper and a pen. “I would be happy to. Just jot down what you had in mind and I’ll do it while you wait. Maybe fifteen minutes.”
“Great, thank you so much.”
While I write what I want the engraving to say, he says, “I take it this is for someone special, considering you haven’t asked me the price.”
I hand him the note and say, “Yeah, she is special. When it comes to her, money doesn’t matter. She has changed my perspective on life, so little things like this are the least I can do.”
“That doesn’t happen often these days. I’ll have it right out for you.”
“Thank you. Do you think all of the words will fit?” I ask.
He looks over the note. “Yes, sir, I believe they will. Let me key it in the computer to be sure.”
While I wait and check my phone, I have a text from Alexa. Everything good there?
Yup, I found the perfect one. Cara’s going to love it.
The words fit and the bracelet looks amazing. I can’t wait to give her something real as a symbol of my love. Today I’ll finally be able to speak the words I’ve been scared of saying for far too long. The drive across town is quick and I’m anxious as I pull into her driveway. Before I head inside, I take a deep breath and clutch the box containing her bracelet in the palm of my hand. I know I can do this and she is going to say the words in return. I just know it. But Cara is nowhere to be seen. “Baby?” I yell.
“I’m up here.”
Excitedly I jog up the stairs. She’s not in her room so I go into the bathroom. She is sitting on the corner of the tub. Her head’s hung low and she doesn’t make eye contact with me.
“Hey, are you feeling sick again?”
She shrugs her shoulders and I notice the box sitting next to her.
Please don’t let that be what I think it is.
“You’ve got to talk to me, Cara. What’s going on?”
She hands me the test that she’s holding and looks at me with guilt-filled eyes. Her cheeks are flushed and tear-stained. I take it from her and clearly printed across the digital screen reads pregnant. The box I’m holding slips from my grip and wallops on the tile floor. Looking down at it, I’m frozen. My body goes numb and it feels like all of the blood is rushing out of me. Suddenly it looks miles away, as my vision narrows and my heart starts pounding in
my ears. My eyes move back to the test in my hand and I can see out of the corner of my eye that she is staring at me.
Fuck, NO! This is not possible. Why is this happening to me again?
“Say something,” she begs.
I just shake my head, trying to calm the adrenaline spiking through every nerve ending. Finally I blurt out, “How did this happen?”
“I don’t know. We’ve never used protection.”
“But you told me you were on the pill.”
“I am on the pill, but it’s not 100% effective.”
“Damn it, Cara, you knew I didn’t want kids.” There is anger in my tone but I can’t help it. One of my worst fears is coming true. Again.
Tears stream down her cheeks like waves of the ocean and she places her face in her hands. “I know,” she whispers.
I can’t control the anger inside of me as I chuck the test at the mirror. It bounces off the glass and pings across the room. Cara flinches but doesn’t look up at me, and I turn and walk away. As much as I love Cara it scares me how good it feels to get away from her.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I slam the front door and get in my truck not thinking twice as I start it and drive away. I’m not sure where I’m heading, but I need to be alone.
Why didn’t I see this coming sooner or catch the warning signs? Maybe if I wasn’t so blindsided I could handle things better. Even when my dad mentioned it I didn’t think for a second that it could be true. I decide to go home and stop at the liquor store on the way. I grab one thing -- a bottle of Patrón. I know that I’m going to need this to get through the night, then hopefully work can consume me for a while as I figure out what to do.
I pull into the garage like a maniac and storm inside, on a mission to get into my loft and drinking to calm my nerves. As I ride the elevator up, I crack open the bottle and take a swig. When I open my front door and walk in, I can smell her scent. Normally it comforts me, but now it scares me. I’m about to ruin her life and there’s nothing I can do. As control of the situation continues to be stripped away from me, I take another swig hoping to dull the pain.
I avoid looking into my bedroom and the spot where we could have created a life and throw myself on the couch. Taking another long pull, I allow the sting of the alcohol to roll down my throat. Hopefully after a few more shots the pain will subside and I can focus on what to do.
My phone starts to buzz and I look down at it. It’s Cara, her picture displayed on the screen. It is by far my favorite -- she’s topless lying face down in her white bed with her hair covering half of her face and her chin resting on her hand, which is resting on her arm. I can’t talk to her. I decline the call and take another drink.
Sitting there I mind fuck myself and come to the same conclusion every time. I can’t be a dad; it’s not in the cards for me. After God only knows how long and half a bottle of Patrón, the shots catch up to me and I get tired. The alcohol mixed with the stress is a combination that sends me off. Blackness takes over, which is a relief compared to the turmoil that is racing through my mind.
“Is Abel Mileski available?”
“Yeah, this is him.”
“Abel, this is Doctor Larson with St. Luke’s Hospital. Do you know an Abigail Riley?”
“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”
“She was just admitted to the ER and your number is the last one called from her cell phone.”
“What happened? Are she and the baby okay?”
“I need you to come down here ASAP.”
“Please just tell me if she’s okay?”
“Sir, please get down here.”
I hop in my car and fly over to the hospital driving as fast as I can. Lord, please let her and the baby be okay. Pulling up to the emergency entrance, I leave my car in the loading zone and run inside.
“I’m here to see Abigail Riley.”
The woman behind the desk scans her screen and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have an Abigail Riley here.”
“I was just called by Dr. Larson. He said she was here. Call him,” I scream.
“Yes, sir.”
I run my hands through my hair and pace back and forth, saying a prayer. The ER doors open and out comes a middle-aged doctor with longish red hair and freckles. “Abel?” he asks.
“Yes. How is she?”
Concern washes across his face. “Follow me,” he says and we begin to walk. “Cara was brought in earlier with a lot of stomach pain.”
“Cara?” I ask.
“Yes. Your girlfriend, Cara Savannah. You told me that over the phone.”
I swallow hard and shake my head knowing already what is coming next.
“After you told me she was pregnant, I checked. She was indeed pregnant but it was a tubal pregnancy. We rushed her back for surgery, but it was too late. She had lost so much blood and had a heavy amount of internal bleeding. I’m so sorry, but we lost both her and the baby.”
I collapse to my knees, my stomach constricts as waves of nausea take over. My breathing starts to increase as sweat builds on the back of my neck…
I wake up clutching my chest and gasping for air. Fuck, it was just a dream. Thank God. I haven’t had that dream in over a decade. It’s been that long since I lost Abigail and our unborn child. I remember the day she told me she was expecting and how excited we both were. Call it being young and dumb, or whatever you want, but we were both ecstatic. I wish now more than ever I could feel that same way with Cara, but how can I when what I created is putting her life at risk?
I vividly remember leaving Abigail to go to work. She was tired and going to sleep in, maybe skip classes for the day. And then the call came and she was gone. Everything happened so fast and since that day I haven’t been the same person I once was. That is until I met Cara. For years, I’ve done a damn good job at blocking out every memory and detail possible. Since losing her, I’ve unattached myself from women and have used them for one thing and one thing only. But when Cara came into my life with her smart mouth and confidence, she spun my entire world upside down. Damn it, why didn’t I use protection? I could kick myself right now. Since Abigail passed, I’ve always been a Nazi about it. Yet Cara clouded my judgment with the craving she brewed inside of me for her it had grown to be so immense that I had to feel her -- all of her. I never thought about the consequences or questioned what we were doing. I couldn’t have ever imagined anything like this would happen to me. Not again anyways.
I glance at the clock; it’s six in the morning. Reaching for my cell phone, I notice the half-drunk bottle of Patrón on the table. Damn, that’s why I slept through the night. I unlock my cell phone and there are a few missed phone calls -- two from Cara and one from Vincent. I go into the text messages next and my heart breaks as I read Cara’s words.
I really think we need to talk about this. I’m in just as much shock as you are. I understand that you need some space and as much as that kills me, I’ll do my best to give it to you. But PLEASE don’t turn your back on me. We did this together.
Motherfucker, why did this fucking have to happen? Everything between us was great; I felt so complete. Damn it, now we’re both hurting. Unsure of what to do, I check the next text. It’s from Vincent.
What the fuck happened? You need to call me.
I immediately call him, and he answers on the second ring, “Hey, how ya holding up, buddy?”
“Fuck, Vince. Where do I even begin?”
“Well, you can answer my question. How are you?”
“How do you think I am? I’m not good. How much do you know?”
“At first I didn’t know anything. Lex left work saying Cara had called and she could barely understand what she was saying on the phone and was sick. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but Lex called me late last night to say she wasn’t coming home and explained everything.”
“Did you tell anyone else?” I ask in a sharp tone.
“NO! Of course not. It’s not my place to tell. What are you going
to do?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.”
“You’re not saying much this morning. What can I do to help?”
“You can take me back to the first time Cara and I slept together and make me pull my head out of my ass. I don’t know why I was being so naïve. You would think I learned my lesson with Abigail.”
“Is that what’s got you so upset?”
“Yeah. That and the fact I’m not father material. Have you forgotten I’m covered in tattoos? How can I make any child proud? Then you add my line of work and that I’m gone for three to four straight days per week. This is all a clusterfuck of a mess.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Not anymore.”
“First of all, knock it off with the booze. Second, kids don’t see tattoos; they see their parent. And you need to look at the positives with your work. You have an awesome, well-paying job, not to mention that you’re home for three to four full days a week as well. Most parents can’t say that.”
“Don’t call me a parent. I told you I don’t know the first thing about this shit.”
“Did you even listen to a word I just said? You did this, whether you like it or not.”
“Yeah, I fucking heard you. And do you remember what happened the last time this occurred? Both Abigail and the baby died. Who’s to say it’s not because of me? Think about it -- there has got to be something wrong with me.”
“I’m trying to talk some sense into you. Do you remember when I was freaking out about asking Lex to marry me and you said, ‘She’s not Angela?’ You need to take a dose of your own advice.”
“Dude, that’s way fucking different. I’m not talking about some bullshit with an ex who cheated on me. I’m talking life and death!” I scream into my phone and hang up.
Damn it!
I thought he would help me, not make this shit worse. I hop up unable to sit here and think any longer. I don’t know what to do, but I have to get my mind busy. I stare at the bottle and as tempting as the Patrón is, I can’t. I have to cover at the other station or Tom will have my head on a silver platter.
Maybe a shower will help. I walk into the bathroom and the sight of Cara’s things hits me and hits me hard. What the fuck have I done? Why was I so idiotic to let this happen? My mind gets away from me, picturing her showering with a huge, round stomach. Water cascades down her precious, pink body that’s filled with life, a life we created.