“Jessica, it’s good to see you, why don’t you take a seat.” She gestures to the seat across from her desk and sits back down herself.
“Thanks…” I murmur, not really sure what to say. But Doctor Martinez fills in the silence for me, anyway.
“How’re you doing today, Jessica?” she asks, shuffling some papers away on her desk and pulling out a file from inside a larger folder.
“I’m alright, kinda nervous I guess.” I fold my hands in my lap and try not to fidget.
She looks at me over her silver-rimmed glasses. “Nervous?”
“About the test results. It feels like this is gonna define a significant part of the rest of my life, y’know?” I try not to let my voice shake as I talk.
“It’s a scary time for you right now,” Doctor Martinez empathizes. “I understand. Well, if you want, we can get right down to the results and we can talk a little bit about the future afterward. Would that help?”
I nod. I think it would help. But I’m scared. So scared. I never realized how much I wanted kids until the possibility of having kids was hanging in the balance. I know that some women with endometriosis and PCOS conceive. And I know that plenty of women with no problems at all don’t conceive. But this fear, this unknown element, isn’t helping matters.
“Okay, well, some of your scans came back fine. Your laparoscopy came back clear so we can rule out endometriosis.”
I nod, this is good news. It was one of the things I was most worried about because of mom. She had to have a hysterectomy just after I was born because of her endometriosis...
“Your blood tests came back mostly clear, so the majority of your hormone levels aren’t out of the ordinary range. There was one that was a little high, but not so high as to be a concern. But the ultrasound did show that you have some quite large cysts on both of your ovaries. One of your ovaries does look like it has to be removed.”
Everything seems to narrow down to those last few words: has to be removed. I look down at my hands, which are clenched around each other in my lap. I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. The subtle thu-thud, thu-thud of life in my veins. I swallow, wet my lips, and look back at Dr. Martinez.
“Removed?” I repeat. I feel tears prickle in my eyes. “There’s no way to…” I stop.
I want to ask her if there’s a way to save the ovary, or at least save the eggs, but I don’t think my insurance will cover that and I definitely can’t afford it on my own. Thoughts of a future I might now never have begin to rush through my head and I feel like I’m going to vomit. Inhaling slowly through my nose, I let my eyes close. Doctor Martinez says nothing, waiting patiently. Eventually, I ask: “There’s no way to save the ovary?”
“Not at this stage, unfortunately.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. Glancing at the photos on the wall beside Dr. Martinez, I notice the children there. I see photos of her own children. Photos of groups of adults and their children — I know some of them, or perhaps all of them, are people she has met on trips abroad doing relief work. She does a lot of work in South America. She mentioned this fact during one of my physical exams, too.
“Jessica.”
My mind snaps back to the present. “Sorry, Doctor, I just… I’m just struggling with this, I guess.”
“That’s understandable, Jessica,” Doctor Martinez says. “Do you want to talk about your options?”
“I don’t really know what my options are.”
“Well, we do need to book another appointment here at the hospital for the removal of that ovary. It’ll be another keyhole procedure — in and out within about six hours, I’d imagine.” Doctor Martinez continues. “There’s a possibility of saving some of the eggs, depending on your insurance, but pregnancy with one working ovary is still definitely possible, so future children are not out of the picture, I know that was one of your primary concerns.”
There’s a pause.
“Is there a gentleman in the picture at all? Anyone you’re thinking of having children with?” Doctor Martinez asks gently.
I think of Tyler.
I think of the way I’ve been distant, been pushing him away.
I think of the way he’s clearly been dodging my calls these last couple of days. But I also think of how perfect he usually is for me and how that scares me so much.
I think of how much I am definitely not ready for kids right now. In the future? Yeah, sure, I wanted a family. I see his wicked grin and the glint in his eye when we tease each other. I see the way we clashed together like destiny couldn’t keep us apart. But despite all of this, I shake my head.
“There’s no one, right now, Doctor Martinez. Not right now.”
Tyler
It’s Friday night, and when I didn’t rush out the door after work, the guys assumed that meant I was up for drinks. Who am I to say ‘no’? I pull up outside Sal’s before the others and check my phone once more. As soon as I enter the bar, I know that pulling out my phone won’t be an option, that’ll only encourage the guys to rag on me.
But they don’t know. When you’re in ‘like’ with someone, you just want to be with them - talk to them - all the time. Mel knows, Cohen definitely knows. There is no getting around the fact that Angel has her hooks sunk so deep in him that there’s no way out for either of them.
The crew starts to trickle in soon after I take a seat. The mood is more joyous than usual; things are finally beginning to return to normal. It’s been a rough few months for Cohen and Angel, and indirectly all of us.
After the abduction we didn’t see Angel for a few weeks, I’d even questioned if she and Cohen had called it quits. But then she stopped by the clubhouse.
After being wrapped in way too many hugs for my personal liking, she asked me to talk. Crowded in Cohen’s office with Angel, Cohen and Sage, we talked about the possibilities of finding out who her father was. Her birth father. She hated to admit it, but she was curious, unable to resist the unknown.
I spent weeks running down every lead I came across; every idea I could possibly think of. It wasn’t easy, but we found the truth after getting in touch with Griffin McGregor’s half-sister.
It wasn’t the best outcome but shit, we’ve all got fucked up families in some way, shape or form. With the permission of his sister, Katy, we were able to run a DNA test, which confirmed her story. She was thrilled to find her niece.
After hearing the truth, Angel was heartbroken. Not over the identity of her real father, she stood firmly on the fact that Darren was and always will be her true father. But how she was brought into this world, it’s gotta be hard for anyone to hear that you’re the child of rape.
With the number of tears coming from Angel, I had quickly excused myself from the room. I’m not afraid to admit that crying women are not my strong suit.
I look up from my drink to see that Angel and Cohen are heading my way. Speak of the devil... “Hey.”
“Hey, Tyler.” Despite it being loud in the bar, Angel’s voice commands the air around us. Cohen nods a friendly smile as he flags down the bartender.
“I need to talk to you about something.” Angel pops up on the barstool next to me, and I’m suddenly wetting myself.
Dear God, do not ask me to have a threesome with her and Cohen.
Those two are into some kinky shit, I’ve had the pleasure of fucking hearing it. I want nothing to do with the live-action version. “I think I’m ready to find my aunt. It would be nice to have some family again.”
I can’t resist a sigh. This must be difficult for Angel. I have all her aunt Katy’s information on my computer waiting for this moment. After the two met and Angel found out the whole story, she quickly pushed Katy away, wanting nothing to do with the woman.
Cohen had been the one to instruct me not to get rid of all the contact information, saying that one day she’ll want it. And dammit, he was right. He’s always right.
* * *
In the spare room at the clubhouse the next morning, I hadn
’t even been awake long enough for my hangover to kick in when my phone buzzes. I check the name and am surprised to see Jess’ face on the screen. I press the screen to connect the call, but all I hear is silence when I lift it to my ear. Then a shuddering intake of breath.
“Jess?” I ask. My heart begins to pound as worry courses through me. Then I hear the sob. “Jess, what’s wrong?”
“Ca— can you come round?” she asks, voice thick with tears. “I real— really need someone right now.”
“Of course, now?” I glance at the time. It’s a little after lunch. “I can be there in twenty minutes.”
“Okay.” I hear her start to cry again as she disconnects the call.
I race out to my bike. My blue Triumph rumbles to life with a turn of the key. I look back over my shoulder at the clubhouse, I should probably have told someone where I was going… It doesn’t matter, though, Jess needs me.
Arriving as quickly as physically possible, I jog up to Jess’ front door. It opens before I can knock, revealing a red-eyed, messy-haired Jessica holding a half-empty bottle of white wine. Her face crumples again as she starts to cry afresh.
“Ty…”
I step into the house and sweep her into my arms. The door swings shut behind me. “What’s wrong, baby? Tell me.”
“That’s exactly it though, isn’t it? Babies! And how I’m never going to have them, and I’ll never be able to get pregnant and, and, an—”
“What are you talking about, Jess?” I’m completely bewildered by this sudden outburst. ‘Babies’? Is she pregnant? Oh, please let her—
“I had a... a test a few w-weeks ago,” she begins as I lead her to the couch while I try not to think. She sits cross-legged on the seat and takes a swig from the bottle. “A laparoscopy. I’ve been having problems for years, and finally, they’re doing something and, of course, now it’s too fucking late,” she yells the last words, the anguish in her voice raising with her temper.
But I’m still kinda confused. “Too late for what?”
“They’re gonna have to take one of my ovaries out!” she says between sobs. “I’m never going to have kids at this rate. I mean, I know, I can adopt and that there are loads of kids who need adopting, and it’s honestly so tragic, but I wanted to get pregnant. Not like right now, but someday. I’d wanted to do the whole— the whole…” she trails off, waving her hand in the air as she searches for the words.
I don’t know what any of this has to do with me, we’ve never talked about kids, hell, we’re not even really dating, but I can see she needs a shoulder to lean on right now and that appears to be my job. Regardless of what my feelings are on crying women, Jess needs me.
“Oh, girl, I had no idea.” I pull her over into my arms again and take the wine bottle from her hand as she starts to cry once more. I kiss the top of her head, breathing her in. We’re sort of half-sitting, half-lying on the sofa now, with her on top of me. It’s not the most comfortable I’ve ever been, but it’s not bad. She tucks in tight to my side and just cries and cries.
“Tammy is coming over at three with the girls after they all finish work,” she says eventually, sniffling as she starts to calm down.
I know what she means, the meaning behind the words, but I don’t want to think about that yet. I glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. Twelve o’clock now. I have at least three hours before I need to go.
“That’s alright, babe. You’re gonna be alright, okay?” I shuffle up in the seat a little. “What do you need me to do?”
“I just want to forget about all this. About everything. All this bullshit.” She reaches over me for the wine and takes another long drink. Dropping the bottle back onto the floor, she stretches up to capture my mouth with hers. I respond immediately, kissing her back. I’d be an idiot not to.
I know it’s a dumb move on my part - she’s emotional, drunk and all kinds of out of sorts. I understand that this can only come back to bite me. But I want her, and she wants me. Isn’t that all that really matters?
* * *
I stand from the bed and grab my boxers from the floor. I know when it’s my time to go: it’s easier that I just leave rather than making her tell me to go… Reluctantly, I dress and then make my way to the front door with Jess following close behind. I undo the latch and peek my head out onto the street. It’s quiet, no one lurking in the shadows that I can see. I hate leaving her; it makes me feel empty. It’s like every time I go, I’m leaving a part of me behind.
Every step closer to my bike feels wrong. A quick look over my shoulder and I see Jess standing at the door, watching forlornly as I walk away. The soft glow of the porch light halos around her, making her look divine. I try to smile as I catch her eye.
Straddling my bike, my shoulders slump when I finally hear the door close behind me. I ride out, commanding myself not to look back. I don’t like this feeling, this churning of my stomach wreaking havoc on my system. I feel gross.
I hate this. I really fucking hate this. All of it. Is any of this even worth it? But I’m not sure what concerns me more, the fact that I’m her dirty little secret or that it bothers me so much. I don’t understand what her issue is. Why won’t she go out with me? Why won’t she introduce me to her friends? She’s so insistent on keeping us hidden, and I can’t understand why.
I know I’m not the biggest catch in the sea, but she could definitely do worse. Maybe it’s the Sapphires’ that scare her. She knows I’m a part of that world, but she’s never really said much on the subject. Does it bother her that I’m a part of a motorcycle gang?
Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe Jess has been stringing me along this whole time, and it’s time to put an end to it. Finally, I gather the scraps of my dignity and self-worth and fucking leave.
Tyler
“Ty! It’s Stefan.”
“Stefan!” I’d seen the caller ID but I wasn’t going to be an ass about it. “How’s it going, buddy?” There’s only usually one reason Stefan calls.
“Erm… Not so great, man, not so great.”
My stomach sinks. Oh, for fuck’s sake. So it is another one of those calls. When I don’t speak, he continues.
“I fucked up, man. It’s real bad, I don’t know what to do.” Why will my brother never learn? All I wanted was to wallow in my feelings about Jessica and then get some shuteye, but no, the universe has other plans…
This isn’t the first panicked phone call I’ve had from my brother. It’s not even the third, fourth, or fifth, unfortunately. There've been many, and every time it’s the same thing. ‘He’s sorry. He’s fucked up. He needs my help.’
To his credit, though, usually the calls are further apart than this, so I wonder exactly what it is this time. I haven’t heard from him since he stood me up in Sal’s.
“What’s happened? Are you okay?” I try to keep my voice void of all the emotions swarming inside of me.
Worry.
Anger.
Frustration.
Disappointment.
Hurt.
These are only some of the emotions flying through me, but most of all, I feel guilt. Guilt for feeling these emotions at all. I hate my brother for making me feel this way, to second guess myself.
Stefan is the only one that has ever really had the power to fiddle with my emotions, but he’s the one who screwed me over more than anyone else. He always makes it seem like an accident, like something I did to myself through wanting to help him.
I may be estranged from the rest of my family, but at least they’ve left me the hell alone, as far as I know, anyway.
“No. I don’t know. I think they’re coming for me, Ty…”
Most of these phone calls end the same way. He calls, cries, and I pay off his debts - for drugs or gambling or girls. As for making him tell me the truth about what the money’s really for? I don’t even ask anymore. It’s better for my sanity when I give him the money and don’t ask questions.
“Who?” Who is it this time? I wonder. He sounds
, when I think about it, more freaked out than usual. There’s an edge of primal fear in his voice that isn’t just his usual whining.
“I don’t know what to do. I haven’t got it.” I hear his ragged, gasping breaths. He sounds like he’s been running, and hard.
“Stefan. Who is after you? What did you do?” I ask. I need to know. Normally it wouldn’t bother me, but if he’s this freaked out? It must be more than just drug money.
“I skimmed some money. I didn’t think they would notice. It was only a little bit, I swear.”
I groan at his words. My brother, the junkie. I hate that I still want to save him. The rational, hard-ass part of my brain wants to leave him to his own devices. He got himself into this mess, he should be able to get himself out of it. But he’s my baby brother… And if he’s skimmed money from Ivy? Fuck…
“Where are you?”
I turn on the bedside light and locate my clothes on the floor. Dammit, I need to tidy. I pull on yesterday’s jeans over my boxers and drag a shirt over my head. Jacket, boots, keys, and I’m out of there. Within five minutes I’m on my bike, barrelling down the street.
Stefan
For fucks’ sake, why can’t I ever just be left the hell alone?
I rush to shove some clothes in a bag. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for this time, but I know better by now, it’s best not to leave empty-handed, especially since I don’t know if this place will still be standing by the time I get back. When you owe people money, they don’t care about your shit, in fact, usually, it seems that the more damage those thugs do, the better. I just hope this apartment doesn’t get burnt down like the last one. I actually like this one, but I suppose I’ll have to move either way after this.
Checking my phone, I see that my time is almost up. I need to hurry. It’s crazy how quickly your life can be flipped upside down. This morning I was chill, just walking to the coffee shop along the road like I do every morning. The only luck I’ve had today is running a few minutes later than usual.
Wicked Little Thing Page 3
