Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 145606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)
I would’ve been impressed had I been able to focus on anything but my sorrow.
Cade continued to glare at her a beat, then nodded stiffly, returning his concerned gaze to me.
“I’ll leave you to it. You will be discharged as soon as your blood pressure gets back to normal and stays there. Should be a few hours,” Sarah cut in, before moving to the other side of my bed not occupied by a big biker. She squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry about your brother Gwen,” she told me sincerely before walking out.
I followed her with my eyes, wishing for glorious oblivion to stop me from getting crushed under the weight of my sorrow.
“Baby?” Cade muttered softly, his hand stroking my face so tenderly you’d think I was made of glass. I felt like it. I felt like I would shatter at any moment. But I couldn’t. I had a little baby inside me, who needed its mother to be strong.
“Gwen. I need to explain about before, with…”
I held my hand up, halting him. “Cade, my brother is dead. Do you think I care you fucked some whore?” I said, my voice flat.
Cade flinched, I regarded his stricken face, feeling detached. He stood, towering over me in my bed, his hand going down to cradle my stomach above the blanket.
“Gwen, you need to know…” he started again.
“I don’t need to know anything!” I all but screamed, my voice ragged. I took a deep breath. “I don’t need to know anything but the fact my brother is dead. I will never see him again. My baby will never get to know their uncle. All I need right now is to get out of here so I can go home.” My voice was back to the flat, emotionless tone I thought I might come to adopt.
Cade sat on my bed carefully, stroking my face again. I didn’t push him away, didn’t respond to his touch. I just stared at him blankly.
“Gwen, the idea of you flying that far, with the complications with the baby…I can’t have either of you in any kind of danger.” He was trying to treat me with care, but it didn’t stop what his true meaning was to fire up a spark inside me.
“I would never put my baby in danger,” I hissed.
“I know you wouldn’t, Gwen, but you won’t be able to control what happens when you get on that plane.” His voice brokered no argument, but hell if I wasn’t giving him one.
“You’re right. I don’t have any control. I don’t have control over the fact my brother is dead, that my parents are beyond devastated, that my heart is broken. And I can’t control the fate of my baby, as much as I wish I could shield it from everything in this world, I can’t. We could die in a car crash on the way to the airport. I can’t control that. But I would never let anything in my control hurt my child, or even give anything the possibility of hurting my child. There is no way you have any say in my staying here once I get the all clear from the doctor. I need to go home and help my parents bury their son. I need to bury my brother.”
I didn’t allow the expressions on Cade’s face permeate. I didn’t allow him to speak.
“I need you to leave,” I told him flatly, eyes on the ceiling.
“I’m not fucking going anywhere.” Cade’s voice was concrete.
The fire that had so quickly sparked inside of me withered, the strength to fight him just wasn’t in me. I was too busy using it to try to fight the grief that was crushing my chest. Too busy trying to fight off the reality that my brother was actually gone. So I just ignored him, stared past him, to the monitors that showed my baby’s heartbeat. I focused on that, clinging to that little sound like it was my lifeline. Cade was talking, stroking my face, kissing my head. I ignored him.
“Gwen.” He softly grabbed my face, pulling it close to his, forcing my gaze away from the monitor. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the door opened and Amy burst in. She stood at the door, her face red and splotchy, eyes rimmed red, pain etched into every inch of her body. We just looked at each other a beat. A single tear ran down my best friend’s cheek.
“Gwennie,” she choked before rushing to the bed. She didn’t even acknowledge Cade who stood to let her crawl in next to me. She sobbed quietly, her body shaking next to mine, I held onto my best friend for dear life.
Amy clutched my hand as the plane touched down. I looked over at her make-up free face and attempted a weak smile.
“Well, we made it home and this little one has behaved,” I put my hand over my stomach, letting the relief wash over me. She squeezed my hand and looked down at my stomach.
“I expected nothing less from our super baby.” She attempted a jaunty wink, but couldn’t hide the raw pain that lurked beneath her eyes. Yet again she was trying her best to take care of me, help take on my grief when her own threatened to drown her.
I sighed, gazing out to the tarmac and into the windows of the airport that held my parents. I yearned for the comfort of my mother’s arms, the strength from my father’s embrace. I was also dreading the moment I saw them. The moment I saw the loss in their faces, the point where this would all become real. The moment when my blissed numbness would crack away to reveal the agony that threatened to destroy me.
The last few days were a blur. I had stumbled through them like a zombie, unable, unwilling to feel anything. I was detached, my emotions unplugged.
I had ended up having to stay overnight at the hospital and Cade never left my side, sleeping in the chair beside my bed, while Amy lay beside me. I paid him little notice, clutching Amy’s hand, lying wide awake with my eyes glued to the ceiling. I knew he watched me most of the night, I could feel his gaze on me. When I was discharged, I discovered the entire club camped in the waiting room. Even Steg. I guess that would’ve surprised me had I not been blissfully detached. I would’ve also been touched by the concerned faces, the loving and thoughtful words coming from the staunch bikers, but I woodenly stared past them all, clinging to my little world of unfeeling.