by Jen Talty
“I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you sleeping here anyway.”
He kissed her temple. It had been a long time before he felt comfortable having a woman in his bed for any longer than necessary, so if anyone understood what she was going through, it would be him, though her situation had been much worse. “I need a few more minutes to recover before I’ll be able to walk home.”
“Told you I could be a little demanding, though I held back some.”
“Trust me. I’m not complaining. But don’t hold back on my account.” He let out a long breath. “Fuck,” he mumbled.
“What?”
“We forgot a condom. I’m clean, and I’m going to make that assumption about you based on our conversations but—”
She bolted to a sitting position. “Goddamn it.”
“I take it that means you’re not on birth control.”
“Nope. I’m not.” She plopped back on the bed and covered her eyes with her forearm. “I suppose I can call my doctor for one of those morning after pills.”
He rolled to his side, running his index finger up and down her arm. His one and only regret in life was that he’d never have children. His trust level for women in long-term relationships wouldn’t allow it. But the idea of the morning after pill when it came to Renee bothered him and he had no idea why. It shouldn’t. He believed in pro-choice. Her body. Her decision.
“You can absolutely do that.”
She rolled her head. “You don’t seem to wigged out by the entire thing.”
“Oh, trust me, I am. After what happened with my ex-wife, this has me shaking in my boots.”
She flipped to her side, cradling her head in the palm of her hand. “What do you mean?”
He might as well tell her. “When I found out she was cheating on me, she was five months pregnant.”
“Oh, shit. What happened to the baby?”
“He’s fine. He just wasn’t mine.”
Renee’s eyes went wide, and her jaw slacked open. “Wait. She let you think that baby was yours all while fucking the real father?”
He chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“That sucks and she’s a bitch.”
“In her defense, I was more married to my job sometimes than her. I took double shifts, and I didn’t give her the attention she deserved.”
“You’re full of shit.” Renee slapped his shoulder. “You certainly know how to give a woman all the affection necessary for her to know in those moments she’s the only one you’re thinking about.”
“Did you just give me a compliment?”
“Don’t get used it,” she said. “I’m sorry your ex-wife did that to you.”
“Thanks. I’m not sure what was harder. Realizing she didn’t love me or having to grieve for a child that wasn’t even mine to begin with.”
Renee reached out and palmed his cheek. “Do you want kids?”
“I thought I did, but after everything that happened, and since I won’t ever be getting married, I don’t see myself having a kid.”
“And that brings us right back to our current predicament,” she said. “You know I never told anyone about the baby I lost.”
He nodded. His heart broke in a million little pieces.
“I never really thought I wanted to be a mother, but when I agreed to marry Devon, having a kid was part of that future, and after it happened, I realized how badly I wanted it.”
“You can still have it. You’re young and given some time, you can find love again. I know it sounds cliché, but don’t you think Devon would want you to? I mean wouldn’t you want him to?”
“Of course,” she said. “But there’s another reason I don’t want to love again or have a child.”
“And what’s that?” Feeling a strong pull to feel her skin against his, he tilted her chin and brush his mouth over hers, kissing her tenderly.
“Outside of blood relatives, everyone I love like that, dies.”
He jerked his head back. “That’s crazy talk.”
“No. It’s not,” she said. “Devon wasn’t the first man that I loved. He just happened to be the first one since Larry died.”
“Who’s Larry?”
“I can’t believe I’m going to tell you this.” She gathered up the sheet, wrapping it around her body, and sat cross-legged.
He pooled the comforter over his legs and fluffed the pillow behind his head. “I’m listening.”
“My brother thinks I’m nuts. Cade thinks I’m looking for patterns and is constantly pointing out things in other people’s lives, but it doesn’t help. My parents, well, they tried to be supportive and sensitive, but after Devon died, they’ve pretty much decided that I’m a lost cause. Even my shrink believes I’ve written a narrative for myself and because tragedy proved it, it has to be reality.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so lost, it’s not funny.”
“Long story short. I’ve loved four men. They are all dead. I’m the common denominator.”
“Wait a second. You link your love is poison?”
“I hadn’t really thought of it like that, but yes.”
“Gavin’s right. You’re crazy. That has to be the most absurd thing I have ever heard. Loving someone doesn’t kill them.”
“Really? Then explain these deaths to me because it seems to me that all of them are my fault. Including the death of my baby.”
“How?” He scratched at his neck. Renee was turning out to be quite the complicated and intriguing woman. He knew she’d been deeply wounded; he just hadn’t realized how far that pain had gone.
“In middle school I was head over heels for the boy who lived down the street. His name was Jamie. He was my first kiss.”
Fletcher wanted to argue that pre-teens didn’t fall in love, but then he’d have to negate his feelings for Sally, his next-door neighbor growing up, and he still got sweaty palms thinking about her and the first time he ever felt a boob in the palm of his hand.
“He’d snuck out to meet me in my dad’s boathouse, but he was hit by a car on the way over. A drunk driver leaving the Mason Jug.”
“Jesus. I remember that. I was here when that happened, visiting my grandparents.”
“I didn’t think I was toxic after that, but then my junior year in high school my boyfriend of two years was setting up an elaborate date to ask me to prom. He’d taken his parents pontoon boat and decorated it in the theme of our dance, including a slide, but while he was securing it, he fell, hitting his head, and he drowned.”
Fletcher swallowed. Tears burned in his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“I thought I was some kind of black widow, but my parents told me that wasn’t true and bad things happen all the time to good people. That summer, I met this guy Larry. He worked at the summer camp up on Pilot Knob, and he constantly hung out at the Mason Jug. He was older, twenty-two. I was seventeen, well, about to turn eighteen.”
“Oh, I take it this is who you lost your virginity to.”
She nodded. “I lied to him about my age, but he learned pretty quickly, and once I turned eighteen, he didn’t care. We were madly in love. He’d just gotten a teaching position in Saratoga, and I was in college and working at the station. He’d gone to Rochester for some teacher’s thing, and he debated on staying another night. I enticed him by sending him a snapshot of the girls while lying in his bed so he knew I was at his place waiting for him. He burned the midnight oil to get to me, only he didn’t make it. He fell asleep at the wheel and wrapped his car around an eighteen-wheeler.”
“Shit,” he whispered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d think he was the black thumb of love if that was his track record. “You tried to blame me for Devon because well, I get it.”
“I thought you might.”
“None of this is your fault. Logically, you have to know that.”
She shrugged. “I suppose I do. But then I lost Devon when he tried to save me. Three weeks later I went in for a sonogram
, and the baby had no heartbeat. It was like Devon was gone, he would have been the better parent, so what was the point, and our baby knew that.”
A single tear escaped his eye and scorched his cheek. He swiped at it. He didn’t cry. At least never for himself. But what this woman had experienced, and all before she’d even turned thirty, well, it explained a lot.
“You’d make a great mother.” He leaned over, cupping her face. “You’re an amazing woman. You didn’t cause anyone’s death. Admittedly, those were a series of unfortunate accidents with roads that were leading to you, but there is no cosmic fate that states loving you means a sentence of death.”
“I know. But if I love them back, that’s where it gets dicey.”
“Wait. Let me get this straight. What you’re trying to say is that, hypothetically, it would be okay for me to be in love with you, but if you were to return those feelings, that would be like me drawing the death card while sitting in front of a fortune teller.”
“You’re a smart man.”
Smart enough to know that he shouldn’t make fun of her theory, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.
He understood the need to build boundaries and protective barriers. He did the same, though his were a little more simple.
“Well, we don’t have anything to worry about because you barely like me and I don’t trust women.”
She arched a brow. “Wasn’t this past week all about us trusting each other?”
“Oh. That’s very different. I trust you. My fellow firefighter and paramedic. I trust you have my back, and you need to trust I have yours.” He batted her nose. “But I don’t trust you could ever be faithful for more than a few months.”
“Excuse me? Of course I can. A lot of women can. I could name fifty off the top of my head. That’s just rude. You don’t hear me saying all men are pigs.”
He tapped her temple. “Women, men, they might not physically cheat, but the thoughts, they’re there. The temptation. There. We’re not cut out to be monogamous forever.” He leaned in and smacked his lips over her mouth. “I should go. See you tomorrow night?”
“Absolutely.”
While he gathered his clothes, he ran through his thoughts on cheating and realized his theory was about as stupid as hers, but it worked for him, and it would keep both of them in their safe zone.
Where they belonged.
5
Renee juggled three beers and a bowl of popcorn as she navigated her way through the Mason Jug.
“Let me take those.” Fletcher took two of the beers and passed one to Gavin.
Unfortunately, this felt like a double date with Gavin and his wife Charlotte. But what was she supposed to do? Tell him not to bring his wife? That would be rude.
“Thank you,” Renee said. It had been two weeks since she and Fletcher started screwing.
That’s what she called it. Not dating. Or seeing each other. They were barely friends with benefits.
They were fucking.
And they were damn good at it.
He knew his way around a woman’s body, and she blushed half a dozen times at the station with their mad sexting. He was playful and fun and sexy and kind. He treated her with respect and at the same time, he gave her almost whatever she wanted in bed.
She had yet been able to talk him into letting her tie him up or having sex in the bathroom at the station house, but she’d get her way, eventually.
“That beer smells so good.” Charlotte snagged the glass bottle from Gavin and took a big whiff. “I can’t wait to have one of those, only with breastfeeding it’s going to be months.”
“Pump and dump,” Fletcher said.
“Excuse me?” Renee choked on a piece of popcorn. “You didn’t just say pump and dump, did you?”
“And what the hell do you know about it?” Charlotte asked.
“My ex-sister-in-law used to do it all the time so she could have a glass of wine when she went out with her friends, and that’s what she called it,” Fletcher said.
“You learn something new every day.” Gavin rested his hand on the back of Charlotte’s chair.
Charlotte grimaced, rubbing her belly.
“Are you okay?” Renee asked.
“I’ve been getting a lot of false labor.” Charlotte blew out a puff of air. “I keep track of the Braxton Hicks contractions, but no pattern.”
“You look like you’re hurting, honey,” Gavin said.
“A little bit. But this kiddo likes doing tap dances on my kidney.” Charlotte continued to rub her belly, and it appeared as though she was doing deep breathing exercises. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”
“I’ll go with you.” Renee didn’t like the pained expression on her sister-in-law’s face.
Charlotte stood and glanced down at the floor. “Shit. I think my water just broke.” She held her stomach and bent over.
Renee sucked in a shallow breath, staring at a pool of blood.
“Gavin. Help her to a sitting position with her against your chest,” Fletcher said as he squeezed Renee’s arm. His face turned serious.
It wasn’t uncommon for blood to appear in the amniotic fluid, but not that much. There could be a lot of reasons for it and not all of them were dire.
Renee got on her knees, pressing her hand on Charlotte’s womb. It was as hard as a rock. “You’re having a pretty intense contraction.”
“Something’s wrong, Gavin,” Charlotte said, clutching her stomach. “It hurts.”
“It’s going to be okay, babe.” Gavin caught Renee’s gaze. They both had delivered babies before, so that would be the easy part. But Charlotte was correct in her assessment; something wasn’t quite right.
Renee continued to feel Charlotte’s tummy.
“I’ve got dispatch on the line,” Fletcher said, standing behind her and setting his cell on the stool. He reached around her and took Charlotte’s wrist, handing it to Gavin. “How long have you been feeling what you thought was false labor?”
“On and off for a few days,” Charlotte said.
“Any back pain?” Fletcher asked.
“She’s been complaining about that a lot,” Gavin said. “The doctor said it was all normal at the end of a pregnancy.”
“I believe it is.” Renee lifted Charlotte’s dress. “I’m just going to take a look and see what we’ve got, okay?”
Charlotte nodded. “It doesn’t feel right. It’s like something…oh.” She cried out, clutching her lower abdomen. “Like something ripped apart inside me.” Her face paled as more blood pooled around her body.
“The head’s crowning,” Fletcher whispered. “But she’s sunny side up.”
“What?” Gavin leaned over, holding his wife’s hand.
“Looks like you’re going to be a daddy in a few minutes,” Renee said.
One of the waiters brought over some hot water and clean towels.
“Push, Charlotte,” Renee said as she tried to guide the head right side up. There was too much blood, and that made Renee nervous. It could have been from tearing at the vaginal walls and how quickly this baby came. The placenta could have detached from the uterine wall, which was what Renee guess based on the pain symptoms, but what concerned her the most was post-birth hemorrhaging, and that seemed to be where they were heading.
Fletcher pressed down on Charlotte’s stomach. “Do you feel any more contractions?”
“No. It just hurts all over.” Charlotte moaned, thrashing her head back and forth. “I can’t do this. Not here. I want to be in the hospital. I want…” Her face turned beet red.
“That’s it, honey. Push. The head is almost completely out. You’re doing great, babe.” Gavin’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God. Look, sweetheart. Our little girl is almost…what the hell. She’s bottoming out.”
Charlotte’s body went limp just as the first shoulder came out of the birth canal.
“Get that baby out.” Fletcher snagged his cell. “What’s the ambulance’s ETA?”
“Eigh
t minutes.”
“Let them know the mother is hemorrhaging. Baby is partially out of the birth canal and is blue. The umbilical cord is wrapped around the body.”
“Gavin, lay her down flat,” Renee said. “I can’t get at the cord—”
“I’ll do it.” Fletcher all but pushed her out of the way. “Keep massaging her uterus. It will keep the contractions going and help her clot. Gavin, keep an eye on her vitals. Can you do that?”
Gavin nodded. “Pulse is forty beats per minute. Breath sounds are good.”
“Let me know if that changes,” Fletcher said.
“What are you doing?” Renee pressed down on Charlotte’s belly as she watched in horror while Fletcher reached inside the birth canal and tugged at the baby. “Trying to deliver through the cord. Shit.”
“What’s the matter?” Gavin asked with a tremor in his voice.
“The shoulder’s stuck under the pelvis. Lift her knees up to her chest. I need to get my hand in there—”
“You should wait for the pediatric team to get here.” Renee took a better look at the baby’s position. She was definitely stuck under the pelvic bone. The cord was being crushed. If they waited, the baby would most likely die as could Charlotte. If they didn’t wait, they could both die anyway.
This was a lose-lose situation, and since they were off-duty, without equipment, they should wait.
She swallowed. This was her niece. Her brother’s daughter.
“Take over massages,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
“I’m already in,” Fletcher said.
“You’re going too fast. You’re going to hurt the baby,” she whispered.
“No. I’m not.” He reached up and took her hand, pushing more pressure on Charlotte’s stomach. “I need you to push harder. Her uterus isn’t contracting at all anymore. What are her vitals?”
“Pulse is thirty-two beats per minute. Breath sounds are getting shallow,” Gavin said in an eerily calm voice. “We need to get the baby out.”