Yes, I'll admit... some of it might be hormonal, but the genuine rush of affection and care I feel toward Sal right this moment overwhelms me. I have to struggle not to leap on him and give him a big bear hug.
"Thank you," I tell him, the sincerity and rush of gratitude making my voice quaver. "That means a lot because I respect you so much as a teammate."
Sal's face is usually hard and intimidating, but it softens tremendously. "And I'll try to not tease you so much... seeing as how you're all hormonal and everything."
I lean across the expanse of the bench and punch him hard in his right pec. He's so fucking built, though, my knuckles ache.
He just laughs at me, pulls his sweaty towel from around his neck, and mops at his face. When he's looking at me again, his expression sobers. "But still...I know this is hard for you. Your life is getting ready to drastically change, and I know motherhood is going to cut in on your work at Jameson."
My face immediately flushes hot with embarrassment as I realize... this is the first person outside of Kynan and Jerico who has mentioned what happens after the birth. Sal just assumes I'm going to be involved, and if ever there was a time I've doubted my decision, it's now. Because no matter how progressive my teammates are regarding me being a woman on the team, there's still the expectation I'm going to raise the baby.
When that expectation is not met, I'm going to look like a total douche to my Jameson family, and yes... that embarrasses me. For the first time, I consider perhaps leaving Jameson after the birth and starting a new life somewhere.
In a place where people won't know I abandoned my baby because not only was I not ready to be a mom, but also because I was terrified that I wouldn't be a good mom. Being a mother meant a commitment and responsibility I'd never been quite able to handle. It's why I've never had a serious relationship before, and I just know inherently I'd be bad at it.
"That's a totally and seriously fucked-up look on your face right now, Hart," Sal observes, and I raise my head, blinking at him stupidly.
But I can't lie, because the truth will come out eventually. The whole "Bodie taking the baby to Nebraska" will make it quite clear to everyone.
I pick at the shoestrings on my tennis shoe sitting on the bench, refusing to look at Sal. "Um... I'm actually not going to raise the baby."
I look up tentatively to find Sal staring at me in shock.
"Then who is?" he practically stammers. It never even occurs to him that it would be the father.
"Bodie," I tell him after a hard swallow, which is nothing more than me trying to push down the knot of shame that's threatening to come up. "He's going to go home to Nebraska so his parents can help him."
Sal whistles low and shakes his head. "Damn, Hart. Talk about gender-role reversals."
I raise my chin a little and give the same spiel I'd given Kynan and Jerico. "I'm just not ready to give up my career."
Sal tells me something I already know, because Kynan and Jerico both told me the same thing. "You wouldn't have to give it up. Who said you couldn't be a mother and a badass mercenary? I mean... plenty of women go off to war and leave their kids back home with their husbands. This is the twenty-first century, Hart. You need to move into it."
My head bows down not in shame, but in frustration. Yes, I know this. He's right. Kynan's right. Jerico is right. I can totally keep doing this job and be a mother, particularly with Bodie raising the baby right beside me. I can't use that as an excuse anymore, and that leaves me feeling off balance and panicky.
I'm not overly close to Sal. We have a mutually respectful working relationship and a trusted bond that we'd protect the other. But we don't hang out as friends, and we've never had a meaningful discussion unless an argument we once had over the best whey protein powder on the market counts.
So, I'm totally surprised at myself when I look back up to him and blurt out, "I don't think I can be a mom."
Sal's chin jerks inward and his eyebrows rise high. "Shut the fuck up, Hart. You can totally be a mom."
The feelings of panic and desperation start to constrict my chest. I shake my head, my voice almost shrill. "No, I can't. What do I know about being a mom? I'm hard and no nonsense. If my kid fell and scraped his knee, I'd tell him to get up and rub some dirt in it. I am not mother material."
Rather than empathize, Sal laughs. Literally throws his head back and laughs from deep in his gut. When he finally looks at me, it's with gentle reproach as he shakes his head. "You're totally equipped to be a mom. You're loyal and dedicated. You'd protect your kid's life with your own, and you'd never let anything bad happen to it. You'd give it the best opportunities, sacrificing yourself to do so. You'd be calm and steady and completely unflappable. That's all great mother material, and do you know how I know you got it?"
I ignore the slight ringing in my ears that started when he told me I could be a mom, giving a stupid shake of my head.
Sal leans closer, his voice soft. "I know it because you exhibit all those things to our teammates at Jameson. There's no one stronger than you. No bigger advocate. No greater confidant. Never a more loyal person to those she's sworn to protect. You're more a mom than most women out there, Hart. And you can take that to the bank."
"I'm not good at commitment," I whisper, throwing out another tactic in hopes Sal will take back everything he just said.
"Are you talking about the baby or Bodie now?" Sal asks dryly.
I jerk backward, surprised by his question. Surely, he knows I'm talking about the baby, right?
But admittedly, the rise of fear that swelled within me at the mention of Bodie's name is probably an indication I'm thinking about him, too.
I don't answer him directly, instead saying, "It's casual between Bodie and me. That's all."
"Bullshit," he says with resounding confidence. "What I've seen of you and Bodie, and I've seen quite a bit at The Wicked Horse, it's anything but casual."
"We're fucking in a sex club," I growl.
"You're sharing intense, intimate experiences at a sex club with him and exclusively him," he retorts. "That's not casual."
"He's too young." I'm grasping at straws now, and I know the nine-year age difference between us is probably lame.
"Again, bullshit. He's a good dude with a wise head on his shoulders. I mean, if you're all vain and worrying about getting wrinkles before him, fine then. But you and I both know you're not vain, Hart."
Sal crosses his arms over his chest, looking down at me with superiority.
Asshole.
The door to the locker room opens, and Cage walks in dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and a white tank top. He's got on flip-flops, a ball cap with shades perched on top, and his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He gives us both a nod and walks over to the next row of lockers.
Sal leans across the bench again and murmurs, "Rachel... you don't have to make any decisions right now. Think about it. Take your time. You've got a while before that baby comes."
My eyes cut toward the lockers because I know if I look at him, he'll take that as an acknowledgment he's right. I have no business declaring my intentions this early, when I know damn well I've been mired under second thoughts nearly every day.
I stay stubbornly silent, but Sal isn't done with me. "If you commit to that baby, that means Bodie can stay, too. Doing a job he loves."
My head snaps back to Sal, and I narrow my eyes. "Isn't it enough I'm carrying this baby for him? Now I have to give up my life, so he can have his career, too?"
Sal stands from the bench and chuckles. Giving a shake of his head, his eyes glimmer with sage wisdom. "That's the thing, Hart. Having a kid isn't about giving up your life. It's about having a better, more complete life. You'll be gaining far more than you'll ever give up."
I grind my teeth, knowing if I try to continue arguing with him, I'll probably end up screaming with bitter frustration. These are decisions I never wanted to be faced with, and there are many people this is going to affect.
; "I'm gonna jump in the shower," Sal says as he steps over the bench. "Just think about things, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," I mutter, just so he'll leave and I can be done with this.
I sit there for a few moments, staring blankly at my tennis shoes. Finally, I glance at my watch and see I have to get going to make my doctor's appointment.
I quickly get on one shoe, then another. Picking my gym bag up, I head toward the exit. Just as I make it past the end of the lockers, I'm brought up short by Cage, who steps in front of me.
Startled, I curse at him. "Fuck. You scared me."
He gives me a tight smile and leans against the edge of the locker, folding his arms across his chest. "Didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you and Sal were loud enough that I couldn't help it."
My body locks tight, not only because Cage is getting ready to get into my business, but also because his allegiance is to Bodie as his best friend. I can tell by the look on his face that what he's going to say isn't going to be nice.
"Don't fuck with his heart," Cage says in what can only be termed a menacing tone.
"Why would I fuck with his heart?" I ask sarcastically. I mean... it's my heart I've been focused on, knowing it was going to break at some point in the future.
"You wouldn't do it intentionally." His tone is bland and unenthused. "But you're so focused on yourself and the decision you have in front of you. I don't want you to lose sight of the fact that Bodie cares about you."
This isn't a surprise. Of course I know Bodie cares for me. If there was ever any doubt, it was put to rest when he ordered me to go to bed while pirates were attacking the ship. He was worried about me, and couldn't be effective.
Worried.
About me.
My fingers rub at the bridge of my nose. I let my eyes close in a brief moment of respite from Cage's accusing look before I let out a sigh and open my eyes. "I won't hurt him. I care about him, too."
"Yeah," Cage says softly... in agreement with me. But then his tone hardens, "But not enough. Make it so you care about him enough so you make a better effort not to hurt him. Either go all in or cut him loose, but this in-between shit spells disaster."
A lump forms in my throat that has nothing to do with shame or anger. Instead, it's a knot formed from cold hard truth. I've let myself get close to Bodie. He's come to care for me, and me for him. But I keep that barrier up, knowing I can't give much more without sacrificing my own heart.
I also know that's not fair to Bodie.
Swallowing, I level my eyes on Cage's. "I won't hurt him."
CHAPTER 17
Bodie
I purposely wait until eight PM to call my parents. I'd come home after our appointment with Dr. Anchors, riding high on the thrill of an ultrasound we hadn't expected. It only came about because I was bitching and moaning having to wait another four weeks, and Dr. Anchors had laughed at me.
"We're actually going to do a vaginal ultrasound today," he told us, and I had a zing of pure electrical excitement flow through me. "We really only use it in higher risk situations or to pinpoint conception date, but you're pretty clear on the date it happened. Still, let's check your baby's heartbeat out."
And then he did.
It was amazing. While he gently circled a wand inside of Rachel, I practically leaned all the way across her on the examination table to get my face as close as possible to the screen. Rachel sort of grunted and pushed at me, but then I grabbed her hand and squeezed so hard she let me be.
I couldn't tell what the fuck I was seeing, but we heard the heartbeat. So fast and strong.
"It's a girl," I declared.
Rachel rolled her eyes, and Dr. Anchors told me we'd find that out hopefully at sixteen weeks. On a more sobering note, we told Dr. Anchors we wanted the amniocentesis, and that's scheduled to take place at the same time.
Still, when I walked in my house, I was riding high on the first tangible proof that there is something growing inside of Rachel that belongs to me. There was no way I could keep this from my parents anymore, and while I am not looking forward to leaving Jameson Group and all my friends and teammates, I am so looking forward to my kid.
I walk into my kitchen and sit down at the small, round table that seats four. I got it at a garage sale. The legs are uneven, so it wobbles when I rest my arms on top. Tapping on the icon for FaceTime, I dial my mom's cell and wait. My heart is thumping madly, both terrified and excited to share the news with my parents.
My mom's beautiful face appears on the screen, and I can see she's in the kitchen. I figured she'd just be finishing up the dishes from supper, which is why I waited until now to call.
She blows a breath of air up to push her bangs back and grins at me. "FaceTime? Now that's a nice treat. You look good, sweet boy."
I rub my face along the jawline, feeling the scrape of stubble on my face. Of course my mom would say that.
"You look better," I tell her with a wink. "When are you going to leave Dad and find yourself a young hottie?"
My mom blushes, and I hear my dad in the background say, "I heard that."
Then his face pushes into the range of the camera on her phone. While my mom still has a youthful face barely marred by wrinkles or time, my dad's face is weathered from countless hours out in the sun working the farm. He started wearing a beard a few years ago, and it's shot through liberally with a steel gray against his dark hair. But his eyes are a light hazel, sparkling with the inner youth of a man who is as strong as an ox and could probably still whoop my ass.
"Hi, Dad," I say with a grin.
Mom nudges Dad to the side to take up more of the camera. "Guess what? Millie Perkins got elected Mayor of North Platte."
I went to high school with Millie's daughter, Samantha. I also know this is a lead in.
"And Samantha's moved back home," she says with a sly smile. "She looks fabulous."
"Not interested, Mom," I chide. She's forever trying to set me up, as if a pretty girl would get me to come running home.
A pretty girl would not.
A baby would.
"So, I actually have something important to talk to you both about, and wanted to do it face to face, so a video chat was the next best thing."
Both of their faces pinch tight with immediate concern, so I rush to reassure them. "It's not bad."
My dad's face relaxes, but my mother's does not. She leans in closer to the camera. "Lay it on us. We can handle anything as a family."
"It's not bad, Mom," I drawl with an amused shake of my head. "I promise."
Dad chuckles, but Mom doesn't look convinced.
I take a deep breath. "Okay... there's just no good way to lead into this, so I'm just going to say it, and then you can ask questions. I got a woman pregnant, and I'm going to be a dad."
My dad's eyes bug out of his head, but my mom's turn soft and tender. She's already imagining all the ways to spoil her newest grandchild.
"Oh, honey," she murmurs. She tilts her head to the side, and her eyes fill with tears. "That's wonderful. You'll make a wonderful father. Won't he, Geo?"
She turns to look at my dad, but he's all about the business of how this happened. "Who is this girl? And are you going to get married?"
I give a slow shake of my head, trying to brace myself against the disappointment I know I'll get from my mother. "Actually no. It was an accident. Not planned. And um... well, we're not really together."
"What do you mean 'not really together'?" my dad asks with a cocked eyebrow.
"I mean we have no intentions of being a couple together in the future." It's the first and simplest thing that comes to mind.
"Which means you're together now," my dad concludes, and I cringe internally. He's making this complicated.
"What we have is casual and has an expiration date to it," I clip out.
"It sounds like there's something cryptic within that statement I'm missing," my dad presses.
I let out a gust of frustrated air and rub my hand over the top
of my head. This is the part I've been dreading, because I know my kind, decent midwestern farming parents won't understand. "Rachel... the baby's mother... doesn't want to raise it. I do. So, I'm going to be leaving Jameson and coming home after the baby is born. That's what I mean by an expiration date."
My mom's face crumbles, not for any reason other than she's assuming I'm heartbroken over this turn of events. My mother, the romantic, probably believes that love created this baby and our love isn't going to survive the circumstances.
"Listen," I say quickly to make them understand, and because I don't want them disliking Rachel from the start. "Rachel is an amazing woman. She's one of my teammates at Jameson, and we sort of got stupid one night and this happened. She could have easily chosen an abortion... could have kept this hidden from me. But she didn't, and she agreed to carry the baby. Just because she's not ready to be a mom yet doesn't make her a bad woman. I totally respect her decision."
I hate it, but I respect it.
I hate it because I think she's making the wrong decision. Not for me, but for her. I think she's going to have terrible regrets one day, and I'd spare her that pain if I could. But I can't tell her what to do. She has to figure it out for herself.
I also hate it because I do care about her. I could see us really having something solid together as a couple. Over the past several weeks, I've come to know the real Rachel, and she's a generously giving woman. She has so much to offer our kid. Fuck... I want what she has to potentially offer to me if I can ever figure out how to knock down the rest of her reticent barriers.
"Bodie," my mom says, drawing me out of my thoughts. "Come home. We'd love it so much if you did that. I'll help you. You can work the farm until you decide what you want to do."
My throat tightens because this is it. This is where I commit to a whole new life for myself.
"I'd like that too," I tell her.
And I would. I'd like it, but I wouldn't love it. While there is nothing nearer to my heart than my family, farm life is never what I wanted. Nebraska is never what I wanted.
There's a knock on my door, rousing me from sleep. I rub at my eyes, pick up my phone from the coffee table where I'd laid it, and look at the time.
12:37 AM.
There's another knock--three short raps that have me pushing up from the couch. I pad to the door and can see Rachel standing on the other side through the panes of glass. Her face is softly illuminated by the yellow glow of the porch light, and it strikes me how ethereal her beauty is at times. So different than the tough, badass woman I'm used to.
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