“Liv, please. Don’t. I did it for you. Everything for you,” he cries out. Literally. I can hear him sobbing, hear the gigantic rip in my heart at the sound of him. Every bone in my body is pleading to turn around and comfort him, to forgive him for his idiocy, his bravery…but I can’t be around him when I barely even know him. I walk away, walk away from him.
Chapter Thirty-One
The events, the words, the crippling fear from last night plague my mind like a persistent malevolent force. Grey’s face drenched in blood as he confesses to torturing a man, getting a retired mob boss and his other friends involved. My fear of being touched by him after hearing him say he wasn’t playing when he said he’d kill for me. Kill. Take a man’s life away. Getting sent away to prison for the rest of his life. For me. Most girls would be idiotic enough to swoon over it, but I don’t. I felt like I was going to pass out from the disgust.
I can’t believe Grey would do that. Kidnap a man and torture him. But then again, he’s always been big on protecting me. I just didn’t believe it’d go as far as wanting to kill another man. I wouldn’t want that. I don’t want that. I just want him. But he had to make it so difficult, so dangerous, so complicated. So fucking Grey.
If he knew where Dean was to kidnap him, he should have called the police and let them handle it. Not him. He could have gotten himself killed if Dean’s people, his gang, found out and decided to get him back. Protect their leader. And then what? He could have gotten hurt, or worse, killed. Then where does that leave me? Alone and heartbroken. Oh, but I’d be protected from a vengeful gang leader after me because my boyfriend tortured him.
God, I just want everything to disappear. Lorenzo. The fear. Dean. Prison. Death. Everything. My father is dying, my friend almost died, and I just found out my boyfriend has befriended other large criminals. Teamed up with them to take down a known, dangerous man. What a life, right?
I roll my eyes and lean against the tub. It’s the morning after the frightening night, and I’m taking a bath. I filled the tub, dropped a few bath bombs, and hoped it would relax my tense muscles and raging stomach. My fever. The flu that’s come out of nowhere. So far it’s been kicking my ass. Just ask the sidewalk I threw up on last night. It’s like life just wants to kick me while I’m down. And it’s attacking my stomach first.
After an unsuccessful bath and a little throw up in the toilet, I get dressed in jeans and a white loose t-shirt. I plan on going over to Jaimie’s, but she’ll notice my mood and hound me with questions. She will most definitely lose her mind and lock me in their apartment, shielding me from the bad man named Grey…
Bad man…
Jonah…
Was Grey the bad man Jonah was warning me about?
“Hey, lucky girl,” Holly says as I exit the hallway.
“Hey. How am I lucky?” I question. Lucky doesn’t even relate to me right now. Unlucky, maybe. But miserable, frustrated—those are perfect adjectives that describe me scary well.
“Your puppy. I would have loved one too, but David said it was either a dog or a baby.” She rubs her stomach with a sullen look. “I came really close to choosing the dog, but then boom! I’m pregnant. But I guess it’s all right this way too.”
What?
“What are you talking about?” I begin to ask but am cut off by loud barking. A tiny corgi with attentive ears and a wagging tail scurries up to me. He or she barks at me, jumping at my feet, lapping around me, tugging at my jeans. “What the heck?”
“Milo, come back here! You weren’t supposed to come out yet!” Grey appears from the hallway, scolding the innocent little thing. Milo whines and tries hiding behind me, but Grey runs around me, chasing the little dog who barks at him, like he’s laughing at him.
I can’t help but laugh.
“Grey, what is happening?” I ask when he finally snatches the little guy up. I’m sure he’s a he. He shakes and barks at Grey, wriggling and biting at the air. Grey tries to talk, but Milo will not let up. It’s like the little guy absolutely despises him.
Rolling my eyes, I make grabby hands. I know I shouldn’t even be paying him any attention, but there is an adorable puppy in his hands. Which I guess was the point of getting for whatever reason. For me to pay attention to him, to whatever bullshit he wants to sell me on. Because as of last night, I shut down and wouldn’t let him get a word in. I made his ass sleep on the couch while I took the bedroom. Thing is, I couldn’t sleep a wink. I was up all night, worrying and fuming.
Milo is happy, practically salivating, to be handed off to me. He cuddles in my arms, tongue wagging near my face. I scrunch my face in disgust, but a part of me wants to cuddle him all day and night. He’s just so freaking adorable.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” Grey asks, smirking as he watches me scratch under Milo’s ear, his right foot kicking in a blissful response.
“What?” I honestly forgot he was standing here. He got me a puppy. So? He can leave now. Come back with some chocolate, then I’ll think about letting him stay in my vicinity for more than a minute.
“I was just apologizing for last night,” he says, and I scoff.
“You think getting a dog will make up for what you did?” He’s really stupid if he thinks so.
He squints his eyes like he’s being tricked. “No…?”
I roll my eyes and gently put Milo on the ground. He waddles over to Holly, who literally screams in excitement, struggling to bend down and scoop him up with her big belly in the way.
I grab his hand and lead him into the bedroom for more privacy to yell at him.
“Grey, you got yourself involved in a mob.”
“No, I did not. I just asked Lo to help me out with detaining Dean, so his ass would confess.”
“Do you not know how insane that is?”
“I did it for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to kidnap a gang leader so you and your mob boss friends could torture him. Jesus fucking Christ, do you seriously not hear how ridiculous that sounds?” Even saying it makes me boil with anger and fear. I never thought I would be involved in a dangerous mess like this. Ever. But it is currently my damn life.
He rolls his eyes and gives me a pointed look. “You knew what you were getting into when you pursued me.”
“No, I didn’t,” I fume. “I thought I was pursuing a cold, vile asshole who had the sweetest smile and a genuinely warm heart. I loved you because you were real with me. An asshole most of the time, but with me, you were completely you. The real you…but this you.” I gesture to him wildly. “This you is fucking stupid for mixing himself in a gang and then a fucking mob. I don’t care if he’s retired or not. He still has friends, dangerous friends, who are most likely still in the game, and I’m sure you’ve met them all at family reunions.”
“You are being so dramatic.” He rolls his eyes and leans against the door. An aura of boredom surrounds him, and it pisses me off to the point where I feel like ripping my hair out in frustration and cutting his off too.
“Dramatic,” I repeat before falling onto the foot of the bed. I take off my shirt.
“What are you doing?”
“Does this look dramatic to you?” I storm over to him, tapping my bullet wound scar.
He looks pale, sickened. He looks away. “Put your shirt back on.”
“Does this look dramatic to you?” I point at the scar on my side from where one of my lungs was removed.
“Liv. Please…put your shirt back on.” His voice is low, soft.
“Does my fucking brain look dramatic to you?” I rub my temples, but he just looks away. “Do my night terrors of That fucking Night look dramatic to you? What about my hallucinations? The crippling fear that someone will shoot up the building I work at, even if I walk down the damn street, dramatic to you?” He is silent. I push at him, and he looks at me with wide eyes, flaring nose, but keeps silent.
“Am I not proof enough that the shit you dabble in affects me? Not you. Not just you, Grey! Do you
think I want to have all of these scars? Do you think I want to feel out of breath when I stand up for too long? Do you think I want to worry about you when you’re outside? Do you think I enjoy any of this?”
“I just wanted to protect you,” he whispers.
“What a good job you did of that,” I croak, not caring if it hurts him. He doesn’t listen to me. He never does. And look at me. I knew he was a bad guy, sure. But not this fucking bad. I never knew it’d hurt so much to love this one man. Loving someone is not supposed to be this hard, to hurt this much. I just want the pain to stop, but he keeps inviting it my way.
The pain is evident on his face. He blinks, but the tears still fall. I have hurt him deeply, but not as deep as the bullet that punctured my lungs. Not as deep as the fear of losing him the minute I saw that man last night. Just not that much.
“Please move. I have to go with Holly to a parenting class,” I say, my eyes avoiding his. His gaze finds mine and burns deep, hot. With a nod that pains even me to witness, he steps to the side. I slip out of the room, leaning against the door as he punches the wall.
***
“And that, ladies, is how you swaddle your bundles of joy in a…a bundle,” Beth, the instructor of the class, jokes in a cheesy way. The mothers in the pastel blue-colored room all laugh, patting and rubbing their stomachs.
I don’t laugh. I don’t even think I have the capacity to. After my fight with Grey, we’ll make up. We always do. The question is: should I go back to him when all he brings me is pain? It stings my soul to think like that, but it is the most rational way of thinking. To protect myself.
A part of me has been preaching for my leaving him the minute that bullet hit me, but I shut that part down. I can’t leave Grey. I’ve never been able to truly stay away from him. I just want him to think clearly and long-term. No bad guys, no mob friends, no guns, no drugs—just don’t do dumb things that will guarantee destruction.
Sometimes I just want to shake him.
“Oh no, shaking can lead to brain damage and is very much illegal.” Beth looks at me with wide eyes, cautiously holding out her thin palms.
I look around and blush when I realize I said that out loud. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t—I wasn’t talking about an actual baby. I meant my boyfriend.” The judging mothers glance at one another. “I just mean, he’s gotten himself mixed up with some very bad people. And he just doesn’t think that often. It can be very frustrating. So the urge to just shake him is very…very, um…intense.” The more I talk, the worse the stares get.
“Fuck off, would you, ladies? You’ll feel the same when your babies pop out of you,” Holly defends me.
They scoff and retreat to changing their plastic doll’s diaper.
Beth’s still eyeing me like I’m a serial baby-shaker.
“I would never shake a baby. Ever. I love babies,” I assure her.
“Right.”
“I’m serious. If I were expecting, I would not shake my babies.”
She furrows her brows, glances down at me. “What do you mean?”
“She’s not pregnant. Just here for support while my husband is off doing whatever the hell he does. Watch football? Smoke? Eh. Too much to keep tabs on him, to be honest.” Holly shrugs. I nod in agreement, on the being her support part.
Betty bites her lip, taps her manicured finger on her chin. “But you are clearly pregnant.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re pregnant.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Uh, yeah you are. I work around pregnant women for a living.” She glances down again, and I realize she’s looking at my stomach. “And you definitely are that.”
“Listen, lady, if she says she isn’t pregnant, she isn’t pregnant.” Holly glares at the lady.
“But—” Beth starts.
“I think I’d know if I were pregnant,” I cut her off with a duh tone.
She looks me over again, lifts a brow, and shrugs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t be surprised when a baby pops out of there.” She winks at me and then turns to the class, walking down the aisle of desks. “Speaking of which, rubbing olive oil around the area will help to decrease chances of vaginal tearing…”
***
A few hours later, I’m at home on the couch. What Beth said has not left my mind. I mean, I can’t be pregnant. I’ve been taking birth control pills every single morning. I haven’t missed one. And if I did, I would have rushed to the gynecologist and have the problem solved. But it would explain the weirdness of my body. The bloating, the consistent vomiting, the…everything.
“I’m not pregnant.” I chuckle to myself, rubbing Milo’s ear. I have no idea where Grey is, but apparently this little guy is mine to keep whether I forgive him or not. “There’s no way. Am I right, Milo?” I scratch his stomach, bouncing my lap. He just wiggled his tongue around. I coo at him, and he barks and kicks his legs, excited.
Just like a baby would…
I dial Lily.
“Yellow?” She picks up, voice muffled like she’s chewing something.
“I need you to bring something for me,” I tell her.
“Like what?”
“Pregnancy tests…”
She chokes on whatever she’s eating.
Chapter Thirty-Two
To say I am nervous would be an understatement. Anxiety nearly cripples me from head to toe. I took a pregnancy test a minute or two ago, and the nerves are eating at me like greedy bastards. Nibble after nibble, I am being taken apart by vicious animals. I imagined I would be wracked with indescribable nerves when I first took a pregnancy test. But I could have never prepared for…this.
Thoughts run rampant in my head. How will this work if I actually am pregnant? I mean, I’m going based off of coincidences and an uptight woman insisting I am pregnant. What if I’m really not and I’m just making a mountain out of a mole hill? I could be scaring myself for no actual reason. I’m sure my flu will pass, and I’ll be back to normal. Normal. God. Fuck. I cannot be pregnant.
I know I was the biggest freaking advocate for kids and marriage, but I wasn’t talking about now. I was talking about ten, twenty years into the future. When I was independently financially stable, had a career, and married. I may not be married due to my very uncommitted boyfriend, but at least I would be able to take care of a baby without him because of my career. Because of money I had saved from my financial stability. Not when my said boyfriend and I are feuding because he’s acting out on his bad side again. Involving himself with the freaking mob.
“This is insane. I can’t do this. I—I can’t.” I pace the living room, rubbing my head and face. I cover my eyes and nearly step on Milo before he barks at me, warning me to watch out for him like he owns the place. “I was here before you!” I snap at him, and he barks at me. Then he whines and begins howling and crying. I roll my eyes.
Such a cry-baby.
Get used to it. It’ll be waking you up in the middle of the night for months, if the test comes out positive, my subconscious sneers.
“Guys,” I whine. “Where are you?”
Milo barks at me, tugging on my jeans.
“Oh, get off, you brat.” I scoop him up, and he ceases his yapping, bounces his legs, and licks my neck. I just roll my eyes and storm into the bathroom. “What is taking you so long?” I throw open the door, only to find it empty, two pregnancy tests on the counter.
To ease my nerves, I had Lily take a test with me. She and Matthew have been having sex, but with heavy protection. The pills and condoms and the whole nine yards. Apparently, it’s hell raising a kid, and she isn’t thinking of having another child until she’s thirty.
She says she lost half of her hair and had to cut it to her shoulders because of the stress that came with raising Max on her own while his father did God knows what. Alone. Losing hair. Hell…
“Guys,” I whine again, my nerves flaring up. I open David’s door and find them lying on the bed, laughing as they stare at Li
ly’s phone. “What the hell? I have been sitting out there for forever, and neither one of you came out to calm me down.”
“Hey, I needed calming down, too. I took the test, too. The world does not revolve around you, Olivia!” Lily strongly claims and throws a floral pillow at my head. I easily side-step it, but it frightens Milo, and he scrambles to the ground.
“Calm down, bud.” I rub his head, and he licks my palm. I smile at him, admiring his big dark eyes and jittery, hotdog-shaped body, and little paws. He really is the sweetest and cutest thing, but he can give hell if he chose to. Like a little sour patch kid-dog-thing.
“You know what I meant!” I toss the pillow at her head. I laugh as she glares at me, stick my tongue out at her, and hop onto the bed. “What are you guys doing, anyway?” I drop down onto my stomach. Holly watches me as she sits on her butt, hugging a pillow and admiring our positions with a gaze of longing.
“You understand when there’s a baby the size of Mars in your tummy, and you’re afraid of crushing him flat like a waffle,” she snaps at me, catching my curious gaze.
I raise my hands in defense. “Sorry.”
“We’re rating hot guys on Instagram,” she says excitedly, flipping a switch in her pregnant lady brain.
I might be pregnant.
Hell. Hair loss. Alone.
“The test takes three minutes to do its magic,” Holly informs, rubbing her large stomach like she’s an expert. Well, considering…
“Yeah, don’t worry yourself,” Lily gently tells me, her eyes shining. I don’t understand how she is calmer than me. She’s the one that’s keeping a fortress around her womb. Me, on the other hand, I’ve been so careless, only relying on birth control pills.
According to my doctor, they are ninety-eight percent effective and are great as standalone birth control. But we should still be using condoms. Just to be safe. Unnecessary, but look where I am now. Waiting on a pregnancy test to determine my life.
This is a complete fucking mess.
Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6) Page 23
