by Cat Porter
“Okay.”
“You do that for me, and we’ll be square.
“I’m plenty grateful, believe me.”
“Okay. I’ll be keeping my eye on shit around here. Take your ticket, and stay on the goddamn bus. It’s going to be crap, being home the first few days, but you suck it up. In the end, it’s always going to be up to you to make it better.”
She rubbed her arms. “Never thought of it that way. You ever run away from home?”
“Yeah, I did. No more though. One day, you’ll stop wanting to run, or maybe you’ll find what you didn’t realize you were always looking for. No one had ever given me a second chance until I met a guy from this bike club. He showed me that you make your own luck, pave your own road through life, and I believe that. I’m living proof. It’s up to you to to find a way or make one when you need to, Jill.”
She nodded and exhaled as she stared at the bus that had just pulled up before us. We got up, and I handed her her ticket.
“What should I tell them about my face?” she asked.
“Blame it on a guy. You fought back. You did, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I tried.”
“Of course you did. That’s no lie then, right?”
Jill hiccuped on a breath. She threw her arms around me and gave me a quick squeeze. “Thank you.” She let go of me and ran up the stairs of the bus. She jerked to a stop, turned, and jostled down the steps again. “Wait—your sunglasses!” She took off my shades and held them out to me.
“You keep ’em as a souvenir. I got my extra pair.” I handed her the case from my pocket. “Keep them, so you don’t forget.”
She smiled for the first time. “I won’t forget.”
Don’t forget, Jill. Don’t ever forget.
“DIG, WAIT!”
Grace’s hands pressed into my sides, our signal that she wanted me to pull over.
One week later, on a warm afternoon, Grace and I were out for a short ride.
At that appointment that I had missed, her doctor had told her that she needed to stop riding until after the baby was born. She was starting to show now, her belly curving just slightly.
We had looped around Meager on the quiet country route through the sunflower farms. The rolling fields of towering yellow-and-green flowers proudly wavered in the wind, their colors glowing in the late afternoon sun, hailing us as we zoomed past. Clouds moved overhead like a steady herd of cattle, their massive shapes creating pockets of shadow and light over the fields that seemed to roll on toward forever. A moody masterwork come to life.
We stopped at the side of the road, and Grace opened a saddlebag.
“Where are your extra pair of sunglasses? They’re always here.”
Instead, she found Mole’s gold and a couple of sample diamonds from Vig’s stockpile that I’d hung on to after I’d stashed them.
A fight. Raised voices. Bitter words. Even more bitter disappointment. I tried to convince her that things had been quiet, not to worry. Anything to wipe that disappointment from her face.
“It’s never enough, is it?” she asked, her voice strained.
“I don’t sit back on my ass and wait to get served. That’s not me. How can you not want better for the club? For us?”
Her hand passed across our kid growing in her tummy. “We have better for us, don’t we?”
The woman who never stopped believing in me suddenly doubted me. I saw it in the stiffening of her back, her lips smashing together.
I swung back on the bike. “Hop on, we’re out of here.” I started the engine, but she didn’t move.
My eyes slid to her. “Babe.”
“Coming,” she said through gritted teeth, the clipped tone of her voice ticking me off.
I clenched my jaw. This will pass. She’s just being emotional.
I didn’t tell her about Mole and the girl. I didn’t want her to know that filth, didn’t want her to worry about the girl. Grace would find something to worry about. I let her chalk it up to greed between boys, an argument over money gone amok.
But this time, I saw resignation in her eyes. Me taking chances over a two-bit drug deal, me getting into bed with Vig to score big bucks without telling my brothers about it for the time being.
Now she stood there, staring at me, while I ran the engine.
Her face tightened as she tamped down the tears I knew were gathering behind those eyes. It was all over her face—a sadness that I would never be able to control or wipe away in her. It was new, this anxiety of hers.
I snapped at her, and she relented, shuffling over to the bike. But it left a bitter taste in my mouth, and I hated it.
Taking in a breath, I loosened my tight grip on the handlebars. “Grace.”
Her shoulders dropped, and she ran her fingers through my hair. That soft shiver raced through me.
“Get on, baby.” I kissed the side of her face, the faint scent of her shampoo rushing my senses, dispelling the heaviness inside me for a sweet moment.
She got on and settled behind me, her arms at my sides, where they belonged. My heart beat again.
“Your doctor said no more riding for you after this, right? So let’s enjoy it.”
We took off.
And flew down the road.
The pop and whizz of gunshots.
Burning, searing, cracking. Flying.
The insane force of my bike crushing me.
Grace? Where are you, baby?
My wildflower.
I couldn’t yell. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t see her.
There. A shadow.
Those fucking diamonds. Tell her where they are.
“Get gone, baby.”
Mom?
I saw Eve’s face beaming at finally getting her driver’s license.
I saw Boner’s fierce eyes as we’d jumped from the roof of that nasty group home to dive into that full Dumpster down below, heading into a better life.
I saw a young Miller burying his head in Wreck’s chest when he saw his own bedroom for the very first time, clinging to his brother, sobs choking him.
I saw Wreck grinning at me, that faded red bandana over his head, his mirrored shades hiding his eyes but not his eagerness. His big body perfectly conformed to his chopper as we’d ridden fast through the pink light of dawn, side by side, toward a town called Meager that very first time on one August morning.
“We’re going to have a baby, Dig. I’m pregnant.”
I saw…
I saw…
“Damn it! Stay with me, Dig!”
…those beautiful hazel eyes that had once called me back to life.
So fucking beautif—
I WAS EXHAUSTED, BUT I COULDN’T SLEEP. I was wound up tight.
Insomnia hadn’t taunted me in a very long time. I hadn’t had a lot of coffee earlier today either.
Tossing and twisting in bed, I piled the pillows in different directions, in a variety of combinations. Still didn’t work. The soft buzz from the one glass of whiskey I’d had at the club had quickly faded, and my brain was on some sort of tedious trek. I hadn’t had the patience for Jump and Alicia this evening, and I couldn’t tolerate watching Suzi, one of the old ladies, drinking too much and spouting off because she knew her old man had cheated on her. My head had started to pound, and I’d left Miller at the club and come home early on my own.
Lying on my back, I rubbed a hand in circles over my middle, soothing my stomach. I hadn’t been able to eat all day, and I still wasn’t hungry, yet somehow my stomach was in knots. I inhaled a long breath through my nose and exhaled slowly through my lips.
Nope. Not helping.
I grunted and scrunched myself around the body of pillows. My aching eyes drifted through our moonlit bedroom and rested on our framed wedding picture, on Miller’s smile. My eyelids sank.
“Honey, I’m home.”
Miller soft laugh broke the quiet of our dark room. The slide of a leather belt and the clink of a buckle. He let out a deep breath, and
a light thud followed. He flopped down next to me, the mattress dipping under his weight.
A taut long arm slid under the layers of bedding and wrapped around my middle, pulling me into his naked body, his warmth seeping through my flesh. I burrowed back against him as he buried his face in my neck. Pushing my hair out of his way, he dragged his lips across my skin, inhaling, nuzzling. He pulled me in tighter, nestling me between his legs. Insistent fingers slid under my camisole and found a breast, taking it prisoner. I squirmed under his urgent touch, his tequila-laced breath hot on my skin. His one hand fanned my middle and snuck underneath my thin cotton shorts.
But I was somewhere else. In a dream? Wakeful but not. In the middle of feeling and sensation, warmth flaring through me, tossing me. Something shuddered inside me in the opposite direction of the pleasure my husband was summoning from me.
“Miller.” I sighed as I took his one hand from my breast and kissed his long fingers, the skin salty, thick, durable.
He cradled me in his embrace, and I burrowed back into his body, pressing my fingers into his arms.
“You smell good,” he murmured.
“I took a shower when I got home.”
“What am I going to do with you? My old lady goes home early from a party, leaves me hanging. Then she takes a shower. I wanted to lick tonight off you.” His lips nuzzled the side of my neck.
“Hmm.” I squiggled my ass against his erection. “I didn’t leave you hanging,” I murmured.
“Yes, you did, baby. I cannot function at these club get-togethers anymore without you.”
“How the mighty have fallen.”
He only laughed and nipped at my shoulder with his teeth. “It’s just that, now that I quit smoking, I need to hold on to something. My fingers got to keep busy, or I’m in danger of slipping.” His fingers skimmed between my legs. “Headache gone?”
“Not really.” I let out a soft moan.
“You need something more. I can think of a few things. Doctor’s in the house.” His tongue lashed my ear.
My hand covered his as it dragged through the sleekness between my legs, tingles of warmth shooting through me. “This is good, baby.”
“That’s not the adjective I wanted to hear. Give me that mouth.”
I turned my face toward his, and he kissed me. I surrendered to being consumed like a cold beer on a sweltering August afternoon. He twisted me on my back and tugged my shorts out of the way, his tongue searing my skin as it journeyed down my body. I stretched out, my legs falling open for him, my one hand sifting through his smooth straight hair as his fingers dug in my behind.
Taylor Swift’s “Shake It Off” ripped the seam of his lips against my flesh, snapping me back to reality. My nephew, Jake, had put that ringtone on my phone. I didn’t like it much, but it would make him laugh so hard that his little belly shook every time, and he’d break into a frenetic dance move. I couldn’t deprive him of that—or myself.
Miller groaned. “Who the fuck is that? It’s past three o’clock in the morning.”
My neck tensed instantly. I had been waiting for something all night, hadn’t I? The tension in between my eyes, in every joint, in the pit of my stomach that Miller’s kisses had alleviated for a few sweet moments flared anew. My palm hit the night table until it touched the cold smooth rectangle that was my phone.
Did something happen to Jake? To Alex, his dad?
I twisted over in bed and squinted at the small screen, the green light punishing my eyes.
My lungs froze.
Laura.
I hit the Receive call button.
“Grace! Grace! I’m sorry! So sorry!”
My pulse raced. I clutched the phone to my ear. “Laura?”
“I don’t know what happened. Everything’s been going great and then…”
No.
No!
“I’m at the hospital.”
No.
“What ha—”
“I had these shooting pains, and there was bleeding, and…we lost the baby, Grace. I’m so sorry…so sorry,” Laura sobbed.
My body went lax. The phone was taken from my cold fingers.
“Laura? It’s Miller. What’s going on? Oh. Uh-huh. How—right.” Heavy exhale. “Yeah? You okay? All right. Take care. We’ll talk soon. Yeah.” He threw my phone across the bed, another horrid heavy exhale forced from his nose.
The bedding fell from my body, and the chilly night air swept over my heated skin as my face sank into my hands.
How do you have a miscarriage when you’re not even pregnant?
How do you feel the pain of losing your child, the fruit of your body, and not be there, not witness it, not feel that cutting pain jar your own insides?
I had felt it once before, but so much had been going on around me then, so much else to cry over.
Now my soul was ripping. Everything…smothered.
But I didn’t care about me.
“Miller?” My hand stretched out in the dark and slid up the curve of his smooth back.
Over five months ago, Miller and I had woken up one special morning before the alarm had even gone off.
We kissed and held each other. I wanted him inside me so badly, but I knew that would happen later—after this morning was done. Instead, I poured myself into making him come, my naked body pressing into his from behind. My very clean hand worked with his very clean hand on his throbbing cock to release his pleasure and, most importantly, his cum into a laboratory cup, so we could rush it over to the clinic. My lips had nuzzled his skin, my pelvis squirming against the bunched-up tight muscles of his rear. His rough choke of breath signaled his climax as his body tensed for a split second. In the very next instant, his hard long cock had pulsed, spilling forth its seed into the cup I held before it, making sure not one thick spurt would be lost. His fingertips pressed painfully into my flesh as we both watched our little fountain of life.
“Close the lid quick,” he mumbled between short breaths.
I giggled. “I got it. Don’t worry.” I slapped the lid on the plastic cup, twisted it firmly into place, and then put it on the night table. “There.”
We both stared at his liquid DNA. My gaze went back to my beautiful husband, hot as hell, with his longish black hair seriously mussed, his broody dark eyes still puffy with sleep, his muscular body flexing underneath mine. I pushed him back onto the mattress.
He grinned, squeezing my hips. “Babe, what are you doing?”
“I want some, too,” I whispered.
His lips parted as I slid down his body and took his cock into my mouth. I lavished his now relaxed length with slow long licks, my hands stroking his massive thighs, as I sucked him clean. His eyes blackened as he let out a hiss of air, his hips flexing against my mouth. I released him and rose over him, planting a languid kiss on his lips.
“Let’s go, Flies as Eagles.”
He let out a rumbly small laugh. “Yeah, let’s go.” His one hand palmed a breast, the other slid down my ass. “After, we’re gonna come right back here and fuck for the rest of the day. Three days of abstinence really sucked balls.”
My pelvis rocked against his, and he let out a groan. “It definitely did.”
We got to the clinic with our precious package and handed it to the nurse, who officially labeled it in front of us with our name. My hand wrapped around Miller’s arm at the sight.
My and Miller’s bodily offerings would now be introduced to each other in a laboratory. The doctor would raise his baton, the orchestra would begin playing, and our particles would dance the dance of life under observation. My thoroughly examined and approved eggs were patiently awaiting their suitors just beyond the doors of the clinic’s reception area where we stood.
The nurse rose from her seat, our cup in hand. “Okay then, we’ll let you know how it goes.”
We watched them both disappear behind that door beyond our reach.
Six embryos had come to life that day. Two had later been implanted in our su
rrogate, Laura. One of those had failed within days, and the other that had taken root inside of her was now gone, failing its epic mission.
Gone.
“You can try again.”
The words I didn’t want to hear from my doctor. Hadn’t planned on hearing.
Dreaded hearing.
I crossed my legs, clutching my suede bag tighter on my lap, hoping the softly textured surface under my fingertips would distract me. Miller’s hand closed over my thigh. He stared at me from his seat to my right. I could feel that stare in every cell of my body.
My useless body.
I nodded and forced a quick smile, squeezing down the grief welling inside me and hoping that would assuage Dr. Carollton’s concern.
“Good,” he said, going back to his paperwork.
One down, one more to go.
My husband’s concern would be quite another.
“We don’t know the cause of the miscarriage?” Miller asked.
“No. Sometimes, these things happen in the first months.”
A lot just happens.
If my mother were here, she would shrug her shoulders and say, Just wasn’t meant to be.
Those smug, hollow words signified nothing but somehow managed to make the bearer of them feel good and trudge on. I despised the phrase.
Screw that.
Miller shifted in his seat. “Laura had never had a miscarriage before though?”
“True. I just got this report from her doctor. She had a D and C done right after.” Dr. Carollton glanced at Miller. “It’s a procedure akin to an abortion. And the good news is, there was no sign of genetic defects in the cells.”
I gritted my teeth. My forty-two-year-old eggs were able to produce a nonchromosomal-defective human being. Kudos, missy. My gaze remained pinned to the toe of my right boot digging into the thin beige carpet on the floor.
Cells. Material to be scraped, prodded, examined.