by Lane Hart
Apparently, the tear drought is over. So many of them fill my eyes again that everything in the room is blurry, especially the man standing in front of me, which is a perfect metaphor for my entire life right now.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “For knocking you up and that you’re sad about losing it. But you shouldn’t be.”
“How can you say that to me right now? It wasn’t the baby’s fault its father is a lying son of a bitch!”
“I told you my father was a murderous monster. So am I,” he reiterates, pushing off of the wall. “You dodged a bullet, baby, because I know that kid would’ve ended up being a monster too.”
With that pronouncement, he walks out of the room without looking back, which makes me even angrier at him because he did what I told him to and left. Now I’m all alone, and I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to be with him either!
God, I’m so confused.
I reach for another fistful of tissues, but there’s only one little one left, which is just freaking perfect. I throw the box at the spot where Silas was just standing, right as the nurse walks in and stops abruptly.
“Sorry to bother you, Miss Walsh. There are two detectives out in the lobby that want to speak to you, something about you’ve been missing for weeks...”
“Oh great! That’s just…great!” I yell to the ceiling.
“You don’t have to talk to them,” she says quietly. “You’re dealing with enough as it is. I could tell them you’re not allowed visitors.”
“Could you really?” I ask.
“Of course. I’ll get you more tissues too.”
“Thank you…for being…so nice...to me,” I tell her between sobs, having to bury my wet face in the hospital sheets to wipe it dry.
“I could find a doctor or a counselor to talk to you if you think that would help?”
“No. I’m fine,” I say, which is the biggest lie of the century. “I’ll be fine,” I amend, even though right now, at this moment, it doesn’t feel like it.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Silas
* * *
After Cora yelled at me and made me leave the hospital, I hopped on my bike and then just rode around in the darkness, going nowhere in particular, lost in my goddamn head.
What the fuck am I going to do?
I thought she was actually going to forgive me for lying to her and deceiving her, then this. She blames me for killing our kid, and I figure she’s probably right. Killing is what I was born to do.
Later, in a few days or weeks, she’ll look back and realize she dodged a giant bullet by not having to deal with my evil spawn.
Maybe then she’ll even forgive me. Doubtful, but not entirely impossible; except, what does it matter if she does? She can’t stay here, and I can’t walk away from the MC.
Thinking of the MC is what has me showing up in the middle of nowhere, knocking on the door of Malcolm and Naomi’s old farmhouse in the middle of the night.
“What’s up?” Malcolm snaps when he finally flips on the porch light and opens up.
“Sorry to drop in on you, but we’ve got a problem. Figured you would want to know about it sooner rather than later,” I tell him.
“A problem?” he asks, jabbing his fingers through his bed-mussed hair. “Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No. Could be a big one.”
“That’s fucking wonderful,” he mutters. “Come in and start talking. But keep your voice down so you won’t wake up Naomi or the baby.”
“Okay,” I agree as I follow him into the farmhouse, inwardly wincing at the b-word. Honestly, I never really thought much about kids before today. I just knew I didn’t want them; I couldn’t imagine passing on my fucked-up genes to someone else. But when I realized Cora was pregnant, being horrified wasn’t really my first thought. I was definitely shocked, but I was also…happy for a second, which was so stupid.
“So, what’s going on?” Malcolm asks when he sits on the edge of sofa, not bothering to get comfortable because he wants to hurry this shit up.
I take a seat in the closest chair to him so I can keep my voice down and he’ll still hear me.
“Cora is back in town,” I start.
“What?” he asks, raising his voice and sitting up straight. “Why the fuck is she back? I thought you made sure she was going to stay put.”
“I thought she would,” I reply. “But, um, she called the FBI office, realized something was up with me, and, ah, then she tracked me down. She showed up at my place tonight and held me at gunpoint.”
“Wow,” Malcolm mutters, rubbing his finger and thumb around his mustache and beard. “She wants you dead, huh?”
“Not really. She’s pissed at me. Turns out I knocked her up, but, um, she just lost it. She’s at the hospital now.”
“Damn, man. She okay?”
“I don’t know. Physically, the doctor says yes. But she was pissed and throwing shit at me, so I think she’s upset for some reason about not having the kid, which doesn’t make sense. Anyway, she won’t go to the cops to turn me in or anything. The problem is, I wasn’t thinking when I checked her in at the emergency room. I gave them her real name. It’s only a matter of time before someone recognizes her as a missing person from the news and the detectives on Nash’s case get involved.”
“Fuck!” Malcolm exclaims, not even bothering to keep his volume down. “We need to let Nash know.”
“Yeah, we do,” I agree.
“And we need to have a meeting to figure out what to do about her.”
“What are you talking about? There’s nothing for the club to figure out! I’ll handle it.”
“You had your chance to ‘handle it,’ and you fucked up!” Malcolm grumbles. “Not only did you sleep with her when you were supposed to keep her away from here, you knocked her up, and now she’s back! You fucking failed, and possibly screwed us all!”
“I’ll come up with something, I swear! Just give me a little time…”
“You want time?” Malcolm scoffs. “Think about how much time Nash is going to get in a tiny ass cell if she talks to the cops! Not to mention the rest of us. If you’ve hurt her, she could give us all up now!”
“She won’t do that,” I tell him, even though I have no way to know that for certain. “Give me a day. One day. And if I can’t fix this, then we’ll have a meeting to figure it out.”
“You’ve got twelve hours to handle this shit or all hell is going to break loose!”
“I’m on it,” I assure him when I get to my feet, even though I have no idea where to start.
I don’t want to send Cora away again. I want her to be able to stay here with me if I can get her to forgive me. But most of all, I can’t let Nash or any of the other guys pay the price for my mistake.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cora
* * *
I only doze for a few minutes the rest of the night before the doctor comes in early the next morning. “We’re ready to release you,” she says. “Your hCG level is coming down on its own. Because the miscarriage occurred so early in the pregnancy, around six or seven weeks, you won’t require a surgical procedure but can just rest at home. I’m so sorry again for your loss.”
“Thanks,” I tell her as I pull at a loose thread on my hospital blanket.
“Do you have any questions for me?”
“No questions,” I answer. What questions are there? I was pregnant; now I’m not. I’d assumed as much when Silas took me to the emergency room, but the blood work and the ultrasound proved that beyond a doubt.
And it’s my fault for getting so stressed out. What was I thinking, tracking down the dangerous outlaw who had lied to me for weeks when I should’ve been resting at home. I blamed Silas for the miscarriage, but it wasn’t really his fault. I was just so mad at him, and then I freaking slept with him again!
“Actually, I do have one question,” I say before the doctor leaves the room. “Do you…do you know what caused me t
o lose it? Was it because I kept taking birth control pills the whole time, or-or because I’ve been stressed? I shouldn’t have had sex last night, should I?”
“None of those things likely caused the miscarriage,” the doctor says. “Usually there is nothing you or your partner could have done or avoided to change the outcome. These things happen very often due to a chromosome abnormality. The fetus is unable to develop normally, and that wasn’t your fault at all. But don’t worry. The majority of women who have a miscarriage go on to have healthy pregnancies.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good I guess, even though I wasn’t trying to get pregnant. In fact, it felt like…like maybe the baby knew it wasn’t wanted…and that’s why…”
The doctor grabs some tissue and offers it to me to wipes my eyes and nose. “I understand why you would think that; but from a medical perspective, that’s impossible,” she says. “Do you have any other questions?”
“No.”
“Do you need to call someone to give you a ride home?” she asks.
“I’ll figure something out,” I say before a masculine voice in the hallway says, “She’s got a ride.”
Silas strolls into the room confidently wearing his leather biker vest, loose blue jeans and big, black shit-stomping boots like he belongs here, causing the doctor to cower because he looks so intimidating. It’s the first time I’ve actually seen him dressed in his normal attire. Before now, he’s always had on his pretend FBI agent suit, plain t-shirt, or been partially naked or completely naked. Those skull and bones tattoos make much more sense on the man in front of me than the one pretending to be a good guy.
Ignoring his offer to take me home, I tell the doctor, “My rental car is in the parking lot. I’ll drive myself home.”
Reaching into the front pocket of his jeans, Silas holds up a jangling keyring from his finger. “Might be hard to do that since I took your keys from you last night.”
“Let me grab the release papers for you to sign and leave you two alone to figure out the arrangements,” the doctor says before she gives Silas a wide berth, scooting around him and staying as far away as possible. I don’t blame her. If I had actually seen him like this before now, I would’ve stayed away too.
Probably.
“How are you doing, baby?” Silas asks.
“What are you doing here?” I huff without answering his question. How does he think I am? And how dare he call me ‘baby.’ “When I told you to leave yesterday, I meant for good.”
“You may have said that, but you don’t mean it,” he responds when he walks up beside the bed. “You’re sad, right? And God knows you’re angry at me. I get it. I deserve it and wish there was something I could do to change that. But I can’t. And you know that. Still, that didn’t stop you from begging me to fuck you last night.”
Gasping in outrage that he would bring that up now of all times, my indignation has me stammering. “That…that was just the crazy pregnancy hormones. Nothing else! And they’re all gone now, remember?” I say as I cross my arms and lift my chin defiantly, refusing to look at him.
“I’ll worry about your denial later. First, we’ve got more important things to discuss.”
“I don’t have anything to discuss with you,” I grit out.
“The detectives come by yet?” he asks.
Letting one of my shoulders rise and fall, I tell him, “They came by last night, but I didn’t talk to them.”
“You’re going to have to talk to them eventually,” Silas points out. His big hands grip the bedrail tightly. “What do you think you’ll say to them?”
“I-I don’t know yet.”
“You can’t be a fucking witness for them, Cora,” he grumbles quietly. “I know that you’re upset and dealing with a lot of shit. I get it. Still, you haven’t even met Nash. He’s a good guy. I know why you gave him up, but he doesn’t deserve to rot in prison just because you’re hurt and angry at me.”
“I didn’t want to tell them his name,” I mutter.
“I know you didn’t, baby. They threatened to arrest you because of your record.”
“I made mistakes, like most other teenage girls.”
He lowers his forearms to the bar to bring his face closer to mine. “You really do like bad boys,” he taunts.
“I made mistakes,” I reiterate. “And learned from them. You lied to me! I thought…I thought you were a good guy.”
“You ever had a ‘good guy’ pull your hair and smack your ass the way I did?” he asks, which unfortunately has an immediate effect on heating up my body from recalling those very vivid memories, even though I wish I didn’t remember.
Why does he, of all people, have to make me feel this way, so out of control and desperate for him? He doesn’t deserve to touch my body ever again after what he did!
“A good guy wouldn’t have gotten me pregnant!” I exclaim.
“You said you were on the pill!” Silas counters.
“I was!” I tell him. “They just didn’t work.”
“So how was it my fault that you got pregnant?” he asks.
“You-you should’ve still worn a condom to be extra safe!” I say, even though it’s an incredibly weak argument.
“You’re the one who said I didn’t need a rubber! Remember our first time? You were in such a hurry to get fucked that you couldn’t wait for me to go get some!”
“It had been a while, okay? I was…stupid.”
“You gonna blame that one on the hormones too?” he asks.
“I was just getting over a bad cold and being terrified of getting murdered. And you…you were being nice and taking care of me. I thought you were protecting me. It was a stupid moment of weakness.”
“Those moments of weakness somehow turned into a daily occurrence for the next few weeks until I left, which is when you came looking for more,” Silas points out. “Admit it, baby — you wanted me then and you still do. You don’t give a shit what my name is as long as I’m inside of you. And no matter how hard you try, you won’t ever be able to forget about me.”
“Is that right?” I ask sarcastically.
“That’s why I’m going to keep showing up, even when you tell me to leave,” Silas says. “I know it’s my fault you’re hurting and pissed. But I’m not going anywhere, because I can’t forget you either. I don’t want to even try.”
God. Why does he have to be so sweet whenever I least expect it? I always thought he was hot and cold because he didn’t care about me. I think I was wrong. That’s just how he is, a tough guy ninety-nine percent of the time. That one percent somehow makes me want to forgive him every single time.
Damn him for being so confusing and making it impossible to hate him!
“What am I going to do about the detectives?” I ask to change the subject.
“You’re gonna go back to that house I bought you and not say a word,” Silas says.
“That’s it then? You just want me to leave.”
“Well, you can’t stay in town, not unless you think they’ll buy that you’ve got amnesia or some shit.”
“So, you don’t want me to stay?”
“I wish you could, baby, but you can’t. We both know that.”
“Yeah, we do,” I agree.
“Come on. I’ll give you a ride to the ferry.”
“I don’t need a ride from you! I don’t need anything from you!” I yell at him.
“Doesn’t matter want you want. I’ll carry you out of here and put you in that car if I have to.”
Since what I want more than anything is to just leave, to be alone, I give in. After signing the release forms, I get dressed and then let the jerk drive me to the ferry. Why would he bother telling me all that shit about not going anywhere when he has no intention of being with me?
Neither of us speak for the first ten minutes of the ride. Is he thinking about the first time we made this trip together, when I thought he was an FBI agent saving me?
“Fine.”
“Are you hungry? Want me to stop and get you something to eat or drink?” he asks.
“No. I’m fine,” I assure him yet again, even if it’s a bald-faced lie.
Silas takes his dark eyes off the road to peek over at me. “I know you’re not fine. But trust me. What I told you last night is the truth. The Sheppard men all turn out to be monsters. The kid, he would’ve been a killer.”
I consider his theory for a moment before asking, “What if it was a girl?”
“Huh?” Silas grunts, his focus now back on the road in front of him.
“The baby could’ve been a girl. Are the women in your family monsters too?”
Brow furrowing, he says, “I don’t know.”
“Just like you don’t know that your son would’ve been a monster either. It doesn’t work like that, Silas. You made the decisions to become the man you are today, good or evil.”
“That’s what you think.”
“It’s the truth!” I exclaim. “Those weren’t good men at Harold Cox’s house. I know that now and so do you. And that girl, I overheard some of what he told her. He was going to hunt her down and hurt her, probably do things worse than kill her. The men who worked for him couldn’t have been any better for standing around while he did whatever he wanted to do to people. The worst part of that night for me to overcome was how you made the snap decision that I was disposable, not deserving to live, before you knew anything about me.”
“I don’t think I would’ve killed you, but I can’t lie and say without a doubt I wouldn’t have,” Silas admits. “Maybe killing those men was all it took for me to be capable of killing innocent women too.”