by Racquel Reck
It’s like a kick to the nuts. Now it all makes sense—the looks she was giving him, the way he put his arm around her, her jolt of nerves as she stepped away from him. Her sudden need to finish my tatt so she could get me the hell out of here. Douche bag is Ben’s father?
Shay
My heart plummets into my stomach. It rolls. Oh God. Not now! I want to comfort Ben, protect him from Gary, but my mouth waters as bile rises into my throat. I dart to the bathroom. I shouldn’t leave them all together out there—bad things will happen. But I’m not upchucking in front of everyone. I slam the bathroom door and head for the toilet, letting loose everything as spasms overtake me.
Should have stayed in the heaven of my bed instead of waking to go through a day of hell. Morgan being so concerned that I’m pregnant, coupled with the fact that Gary is here and Ben is confused, and I’m about to have a panic attack. My heart is beating like I’m in a rave dancing to techno. My stomach has settled, though. I flush and let my forehead hit the lid of the toilet seat.
What in the hell am I going to do?
A light rap on the bathroom door turns my head.
"Are you okay, Shay?"
It’s Morgan. Oh, God. No, go away.
"It’s alright, dude, I got this."
Shit. And Gary. No, no, no. I shake my head.
"I've got this. Go back to your customer." Morgan is being stubborn.
What happened to the shy guy from the cabin? It’s like he did a one-eighty and the confident singer from the stage is back. I hear shuffling. What the hell are they doing? I grab the sink and slowly rise, not trusting my stomach to keep its contents if I move too fast.
"Move out of my way, fucker." Gary’s tone is all threat. "She’s my woman."
The hell I am! I reach for the knob.
"She might be your woman, but she might be pregnant with my kid. So move!"
Dammit, Morgan! I fling open the door just as Gary lands a good solid punch to Morgan’s face. Morgan flies back a pace and the wall catches him. Gary throws his fist.
"Stop!" I shout.
Morgan ducks and Gary’s knuckles crash into the brick. Morgan lands a gut shot to Gary.
This can’t be fucking happening. It’s like time has stopped, but everything is moving in fast-forward.
Gary charges Morgan and knocks him to the ground. He lands a punch. Morgan flips him. His fists are flying and Gary is doing his best to block him. Even though Gary isn’t as lanky as he used to be, Morgan has more muscle and he’s like a ton of cinder blocks holding Gary to the floor.
I know better than to interrupt a guy fight. With their fists swinging I could get hit.
Tryst and Sammy dash in from the front of the shop. The beads, acting as my door, swing in their wake. Ben comes up behind them. Tryst steps in his way to block his view, but the sounds of the fight probably ring in Ben’s ears.
My heart sinks and I catapult myself toward my little boy, ignoring the two men who have a major case of testosterone poisoning.
I hug Ben, giving him the comfort only my arms can bring. "Come on." I pull him toward the front. "Your Daddy and Morgan are just goofing around. You don’t need to see them wrestling."
His eyes get huge and he smiles. "I wanna watch. I bet Morgan kicks his butt. He’s way stronger."
No, this isn’t good. I make a mental note to not let him watch Friday Night Smack Down anymore.
Bebe comes out of the back. "You gotta see–" She pauses when she sees Ben.
I nod.
A roar comes from the back. I need to get back there before they kill each other. I was the cause of the fight, so I should be the one to stop it. But Ben shouldn’t be here.
"Bebe, can you take Ben to the movies?" Quickly, I reach into the petty cash drawer and pull out forty bucks.
"No prob."
I give Ben a hug and a kiss. “Be good for your aunt.” I pass the money off to Bebe then dart into the back.
Sammy is leaning against the wall watching the fight.
"Aren’t you gonna help?"
He shrugs. "Looks like Tryst has it covered."
For Christ’s sake. I know it’s not his place to interfere, but you’d think he would. He likes Gary. And from the looks of it, Morgan is winning.
Tryst’s trying to wrangle Morgan. But Morgan and Gary are like two pit-bulls when they clamp their jaws on each other. They’re completely locked in their need to crush the other one. I can’t do anything but watch.
Morgan bucks Tryst off him and Gary uses that moment to flip Morgan. The pounding of flesh and bone smack out through the air as Gary lands a solid hit to Morgan’s nose. It cracks.
My stomach churns. "Gary! Stop!" The urge to step in makes me move forward. But the thought of my current condition cements my feet to the floor.
Tryst tries to pull Gary off. Gary turns at the last second, nails Tryst in the nuts.
Tryst drops.
"Fucking stop!" All I can do is shout, helpless to stop this testosterone-fueled beat-down.
Just as Morgan is about to flip Gary again and gain the upper hand, Sammy pushes himself off the wall.
Finally.
Sammy pulls Gary off of Morgan and shackles his arms tight around Gary’s struggling form. Gary bucks in his hold. "It’s not worth it dude. You want to go back to the pen?"
Morgan groans and sits up, then falls back to the floor. His face is a bloody mess. My stomach follows my heart to the floor. Rushing to him, I try to help him up.
Tryst wheezes and coughs, then slowly rises from the floor. "It’s going... to... happen anyway." He struggles to get to his feet. "I’m calling the cops."
"No, don’t." Morgan sits and leans against the wall. "I’m not pressing charges."
We all look at Morgan.
Even Gary’s bloody jaw is dropped. "What?"
"You heard me." Morgan braces the wall and slowly stands. "That’s a pussy’s way out of an ass-beating."
It would be a blessing to me if Gary got locked up. But Morgan doesn’t know that. I never told him about how bad Gary is. I look over at Tryst. Surely, he’ll press charges. Gary punched him in the nads. I give him a pleading look.
Tryst shrugs and his eyes soften. "Think about it, Shay. Look at them. They’re both banged up. They’ll both be carted off if I call, and our band has an important interview with 101 WRIF tomorrow morning. Morgan can’t get locked up. As much as I hate to say it, we can’t call the cops."
Gary smirks. "Yeah, no need to call the cops. Your little boy-toys have the right idea."
A growl comes from Morgan and Tryst clenches his fist. The tension in the air only took a pause and now it’s back, strangling the life out of me.
I place a hand on Tryst’s arm and look at Gary. "You know Tryst is my cousin. And Morgan–" I glance at him. I have no idea what he is, and if I say anything further, it will only make the situation worse. So for once, I keep my trap shut. "Come on, Morgan."
"Where’re we going?" He follows me toward my loft.
"I’m going to doctor your face."
"What about me?" Gary frees himself from Sammy’s hold. "Shay?"
I stop, turn around, and shake my head. "You’re not allowed in my loft, and I’m considering not allowing you in my shop. So if I were you, I’d go home, and let Paula fix the damage Morgan did to your face."
Gary growls. "So you pick him over me?" He comes toward us.
Tryst blocks his path. "I’d listen to her. She’s not in a good mood. Morgan and I might not call the cops, but don’t press your luck with her. She’s looking for a reason to get you sent back to the pen."
"I don’t need this shit." Gary peers around Tryst. "You hear me, you fucking slut?"
Morgan lunges at Gary. Tryst holds him back and whispers something into Morgan’s ear. Morgan’s eyes narrow as he looks back at me then pins that glare on Gary. "Call her that again, Asshole, and I’ll finish the job on your face."
"Hey." Sammy grabs Gary’s arm, and Gary shrugs him off. "Come on man. There’s
no reason to call her names. And you don’t need to reactivate your inmate number. Let’s go get a beer."
Gary glares at me then without saying another word follows Sammy out the door.
I exhale.
Morgan looks back at me, anger flashing in his eyes, but not in his posture. Whatever Tryst told him must have been a doozy. Gary did so many horrible things to me over the years; I wonder what it is that Morgan now knows. He doesn’t say anything, though, as he heads up the stairs toward my loft. I have to find out what Tryst said to him. I need to know what I’m about to walk into with Morgan. But I can’t ask Tryst in front of him.
"Tryst, watch the front. And if Bebe and Ben come back, can you keep Ben occupied until I come down? I have some things that I need–"
Tryst holds up his hand. "No prob." He vanishes through the beads out into the shop.
I eye the stairs. Dread comes over me, and my stomach rolls. I’m not looking forward to the conversation we have to have. I don’t know why Morgan got hyped up and why he thinks that he has some claim on me. Why? Because he thinks I might be pregnant with his kid? Like I need another Gary in my life.
Just tell him the truth. You’re pregnant. He deserves to know. Nope. Okay, maybe he does, but I’m not putting Ben, this baby, or myself into a situation that’s similar to the one I’m about break free of. I will not allow Morgan to do what Gary has done to me. So I’m going to lie.
But first– My stomach churns, the acidic taste of bile rises in my throat. I book it into the bathroom.
Fourteen
Shay
“Why did you tell Gary I might be pregnant?" I wipe the blood from Morgan’s mouth, surprised his lip ring wasn’t torn out. The split’s on the other side, and dried up blood dots his upper lip from the hit his nose took. Both eyes are swollen, and I feel guilty. I shouldn’t have worked on his tatt today. Then maybe none of this would’ve happened.
"Sorry." His voice is a little nasally because of the cotton he shoved up his nose. "That guy pissed me off, and it just flew out."
I can relate to that. Hell, my mouth knows no bounds when I’m nervous or angry.
"So that dick–uh, guy is Ben’s father?"
"Yup, he's Ben's father. And no, he’s not a dick. He’s an asshole."
Morgan smiles, then flinches.
"Careful. You’re lucky he didn’t bust out your ring." I wipe and gently scrub the crusted blood off his upper lip.
"Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s done that."
"Then why keep it?"
"I like it." He takes the cotton balls out of his nose, then gets up and chucks them into the garbage inside my pantry. "And I don’t fight that often."
And I’d believe that if I hadn’t seen the damage he did to Gary’s face. What the hell got into Morgan? "Don’t get me wrong. I like that you kicked his ass. The shit deserved it for everything–" I stop myself. Morgan doesn’t need to know what Gary has done to me in the past. I walk over to the fridge to grab a frozen bag of peas.
"What did he do to you?" Morgan is behind me. The warmth of his body encases me. Visions of what he did to me come back in a hot rush—him behind me, pounding into me. As his hands land on my shoulder, I remember how gentle they were as they brought me to climax. They run down my arms and a chill goes through me, followed by a blast of heat. His breath is at my ear. A hammer goes berserk in my chest. My breath hitches.
"Nothing." Telling him everything I endured at the hands of my ex will make me look weak. "He just has a mouth and we didn’t work out." There. See, I can do this. That’s all he needs to know. I turn around and place the bag of peas on his left eye.
His arms come around me to grip the counter on both sides, and I back up until my butt hits the edge.
"There’s something else." With his rough scraped-up hands, he takes the bag from me and sets it on the counter. "I saw how twitchy you were when he put his arm around you."
"He’s been locked up for five years on drug charges and recently paroled." Shut up, mouth. "Today was his first day back, and he thinks that everything can go back to the way it was before. But I don’t want that. Okay?"
Morgan tilts his head, and if his eyes weren’t swollen, I'd swear he’d probably be arching a brow. "Why?"
"Why what?" His mouth is inches from mine. My skin is tight; my nerves are all over the place as his breath ghosts across my lips. It smells like cinnamon, and mixed with the musk of his body, he’s so inviting. Tempting. The only thing that keeps me from kissing him is knowing it’d hurt him.
"Why don’t you want to be with him?"
I shove him. This is getting too personal. It’s none of his goddamn business, and if I don’t get away from him, I’m going to end up telling him everything about all the abuse I suffered from Gary. All the hurt my son went through because his father was never around. "I think you should go. I’ll finish your tatt, but after that I think we shouldn’t see each other." Because if I see more of you I’ll forget all about myself. It happened with Gary.
After the night we had, the way Morgan is, all nice and protecting, I might make a colossal mistake, like tell him he was right. I’m carrying his baby. No good relationship comes out of trapping a man. Look how it turned out with Gary. Okay, so I didn’t trap Gary. He couldn’t give two shits about Ben.
"Why?"
"Is that your response to everything? Why?" I bit my lip. "Why do you care? How about that? What we did was have some fun. We agreed no strings, and here you are. Blowing up my phone. Beating up my ex. You’re sending out all sorts of creepy signals, dude."
Morgan curses under his breath and runs a hand through his dark, spiky hair. "I didn’t mean to come off that way. I have this thing about condoms. I use them all the time, because I’m scared of knocking someone up." He fidgets. "My sister Carla died of lupus when I was five. And even though the possibilities of passing it on are slim, I still don’t want to take that chance."
I know little about the disorder except that you can inherit it, and it's more common in girls. But if the possibilities are slim, I'm not going to freak out about it. For a moment I think it’s a cop-out, like he’s making up some story to defend Fatal Attraction–type behavior. Even though his face is busted and looks all hard and swollen, I swear I see it soften. "A normal guy would have just said fuck it and forgot about it. If the girl got pregnant, she’d seek him out."
"I’m not normal."
Obviously.
He shakes his head. "I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this. You’re going to think I’m a freak."
"I already think you’re a freak."
"I have this gift. A strong intuition some call it." He sits down on the only piece of living room furniture I have in my loft, a small leather love seat.
Sure, go ahead. Make yourself comfy.
"It’s what made me pass you that night on the road. I knew something bad was happening and I just wanted to get back to the cabin. But when the guys convinced me to turn around I realized I read my gut wrong. The feeling was still there, though. And it’s been like that my whole life. I get feelings about something bad, and they happen. I get feelings about something good, and they happen. And it’s what pushed me to seek you out when I saw that busted condom."
Oookay. The man needs to get his head checked. Yet you’re pregnant and he’s here. I’m a skeptical person, and things like psychic abilities are bogus—or so I’ve always thought. But Morgan seems so sure. That doesn’t mean I’m going to tell him I’m carrying his baby. I don’t know him, not really. And he doesn’t know me. What type of parents can two strangers make?
"Let me make sure I understand this. You got this feeling that I’m pregnant, and you decided to blow up my phone and go all Tyson on my ex."
"You’re pregnant?"
"What? No." I shake my head. Lie a little more; you’d look awesome with a long nose.
"You just said I’m pregnant." Now he’s shaking his head. "If you were talking hypothetically, you would have adde
d if in there."
Shit. "That came out wrong."
"No, it came out right. You said so yourself—when you’re nervous or angry, you have no filter from your thoughts to your mouth." His mouth lifts a little on the left side. He’s trying to smirk at me. Fucker.
He has me there. I did tell him that at the cabin and just reminded him of it here. I could continue to deny it. That would be the sane thing to do. He’s not ready to be a dad, and he just got signed. I don’t need another crazy guy hanging around me. I swear there must be a magnet between my legs that attracts sexy psycho dicks.
"Shay?" His fingers run lazy circles around my palm. He leans in close and his breath on my neck has my chest stumbling. "Are you pregnant?"
Yes. Heart pounding. No, don’t tell him. Maybe he won’t want anything to do with it. I fiddle with the hem of my shirt. Mouth will stay closed. But he has the right to know. I clear my throat. Stop. "I-I..." Shut your jabber-box. "I’m pregnant. You’re right." What the hell is the matter with me?
His hand jolts away from mine, and he shoots up off the couch and paces. His thoughts wear a path in my carpet. A couple of minutes go by before he stops and looks at me. "How come you didn’t tell me? You could’ve answered my calls. Tryst has my number. Didn’t you think I had a right to know?"
Guilt slams into my stomach. It rolls. Not again. I choke back the bile threatening. My nerves are doing tap dances in my gut and it’s not helping. He’s right. I should have answered his call this morning. Then maybe his face wouldn’t be busted. "I just found out this morning and I’m still in shock. I wanted to think about it for a few days. Wanted to reach a conclusion before I told you."
Some of the color leaves his face. "You aren’t thinking about abortion, are you?"
Actually that thought never—
"Answer me, Shay."
"No. I’m not against it, I just could never personally do it."
Morgan lets out a deep breath. "Good. And if you’re thinking about adoption, don’t. If you want to give the baby up, I’ll take it."
My mind goes blank. I blink. What? He wants to have it? "Why?"