The Beast's Baby

by N. Alleman

  I loved him. I loved him with all my heart, and he destroyed me.

  He can never know. I need to move on, to get over him.

  He will not be the last man in my life.

  But he was my first love.

  I need to be strong. I can’t turn my love for him into hate.

  No one knows that anything had happened between me and Axel, though I think my dad guessed.

  Things are still bad for my dad, but I believe before the Reigns moved they gave him a little of the money they made from the sale of their house. The house next to us sits empty for the moment, until the new owners move in. The Reigns had moved to be closer to where their star son fought.

  It’s probably for the best. I don’t think I could bear seeing them, the constant reminders of Axel.

  Besides school, I’ve only seen the inside of my room for weeks. I quit debate club. I have no heart to go back. I ruined my chances with Jason, definitely.

  Who can I tell about this?

  Definitely Papa. Maybe Selena.

  Never Axel. Absolutely not Axel. He hurt me too much, and he was focused on his boxing career. He had no interest in being a dad. There was no way he was coming back, and I had to get used to that.

  I glared at the ten pregnancy tests all lined up in a row. I drove two towns over to get them because I didn’t want anyone where I live to know about my suspicions.

  All ten plus signs tell me what I already knew, even though I prayed at least one of them would provide a different result. None of them did.

  God, I’m so stupid.

  They’re all positive.

  I’m having his baby.

  8

  Axel

  She doesn’t answer her fucking phone.

  I don’t know why I bother calling. She isn’t going to see me, no matter how much I want to see her. Fucking hell. I even used my first paycheck to go all the way home to tell her I love her. I planned to let her know how much she means to me.

  To tell her that, if she wanted, when I get back from this tour, we can get married, and I’ll take her with me on the road.

  But she didn’t want to see me.

  I throw my weight behind my fist and slam it against the punching bag. Almost did it the wrong way, I’m so distracted. Could’ve broken my damn hand, but I don’t give a fuck.

  I hit it again. And again. Then a third time, launching all my rage and frustration into the bag until my body is so fucking exhausted I can barely stand anymore.

  But I keep going.

  Fight.

  Fuck.

  Sleep.

  Repeat.

  Just another day in my fucking life.

  With Olive, I hadn’t just fucked her. She meant so much more than that to me. Does she believe otherwise? How could she think that night meant anything else?

  I grit my teeth so hard my lower lip gets caught. I ignore the bleeding, and punch the bag again. Maybe I can trick myself into thinking violence will solve my problems.

  Concentrating on the bag in front of me, I try to stop thinking about her. It doesn’t work. Nothing does.

  I should call her again. Her number’s engraved in my head.

  Don’t fucking do it, Reign. Don’t be a dumbass.

  “Cool it, Reign, you don’t need to be so anxious about your first fight,” Coach Parker comes up behind me and smacks my back a few times for good measure. “You’ll do great.”

  That’s not it at all. But if Coach wants to think I’m amped up about the fight and that’ll keep him from asking annoying personal questions, I’ll go with it.

  “Doubt it,” I grunt, faking it. My frustration is that Olive Wilson isn’t gonna be Olive Reign.

  Goddammit! I punish the bag again.

  “Hey.” Coach Parker grabs my fist as I rear back to hit the bag again, and I swear if I didn’t have to work with him, I would have hit him. But he’s older, more experienced, and he might have blocked it anyway. He’s taught me everything I know. Plus he’s my friend, and it wouldn’t be right. I breathe heavily. “You sure this is about your first match?”

  “Yeah.” Keep it short, Axel. You’re not going to be able to hide this if you get chatty. “I’m good. Ready to kick ass.” I offer Coach my trademark grin.

  “Well, all right, then.” He lifts his hand like he’s going to pat my back again, but thinks better of it.

  Good. I don’t want that kind of comfort right now. I just want Olive in my arms, but since that’s not gonna happen, I’m pissed.

  Coach proceeds to tape my hands properly and helps me into my fighting gloves.

  “Go get ’em, tiger.”

  I tuck my chin in a gesture that says I’m all business now.

  Axel Reign. The perfect bad boy. Rising from my fighting position on the training mat, I give one last stretch and then without a word, I walk out into the ring.

  Crowds don’t make me nervous. I smirk at the people surrounding the ring, wearing a mask of indifference, so opposite of how I feel when I think about Olive.

  Do I hide it well from the public the way I think I do? Or do they even give a shit?

  A girl who looks a few years older than me winks at me from the front row. Her hair is short and blond. The opposite of my Olive.

  I wink back at the chick then turn my attention from specific faces to the whole crowd and wave to everyone as I pass.

  No one seems particularly impressed.

  But maybe the crowd seems empty because that was the way I felt. Some people are holding up signs for the man I’m here to fight against, and some are rooting for me—the newcomer.

  I make my way through the crowd and up the ramp, swing myself inside the ring and wait for my opponent to face me.

  He calls himself “The Devil.” Like I care. I size him up, and a rush of adrenaline courses through my veins as I realized I could beat this guy, make him my bitch. We’re about the same height, and he may be a little more muscular than me, but nothing can hold a candle to my rage.

  My jaw tightens. I raise my fists, wanting, so damn bad to beat the hell outta this guy.

  But first, the pleasantries.

  The referee gives us the rules.

  “The fight goes for eight rounds, or until someone gets a knockout. If at any time you think you cannot continue, you may bow out.”

  Coach had run this through with me thousands of times. I’m ready. I was born ready. I shift my left leg slightly forward to get the advantage, defending myself, attacking this bastard. It won’t solve my problems, but it will sure as shit make me feel better.

  Coach tries catching my attention outside the ring, but I don’t look at him. “Bettin’ on you, kid!” he yells. I nod, curtly.

  I’m a jackass, not an asshole.

  The bell rings to begin the round.

  This douche can’t even get the drop on me before I slam my fist into his gut. There are no bonus points for playing around. I go all out. Jab, cross. Jab, jab. Straight punch. This guy is gasping as I rain blow upon blow down on his flesh. I don’t stop.

  Round two is harder.

  He lands a punch to the left side of my head that dazes me.

  For a minute.

  Then I rock him with an uppercut that knocks him back off his feet.

  The referee doesn’t have a chance to count him out before he’s up again, and he looks pissed.

  I work the jab. Then throw a cross, then another. My punches are landing, but it’s not until I go downstairs to the body that I really do some damage.

  Finally, in round three I land a punch to his side that injures him because he goes down, and this time he doesn’t get back up.

  My breath comes hard, and when the ref takes my arm and raises it to the sky to declare me the winner, all I can think about is how much it reminds me of when Olive and I raised our arms above our head on stage at the concert the night of my birthday.

  The crowd erupts in cheers. So they don’t give a shit who wins, just that one guy beats the snot out of another
one. Would the girls running toward me now do the same for the sap I just beat?

  Olive wouldn’t, but she also won’t take my calls, so why bother?

  I can’t think about that now.

  I have to get over her. Thankfully, I know just how to do that.

  A long-legged hottie with obviously fake red hair waves to me then presses her arms together over her chair so I get a better view of her tits. I eye them then call her over to the ring, and help her through the ropes so she’s next to me.

  “Hey, doll,” I say, my eyes roaming her body. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Patricia.” She ogles my biceps and juts out her chest so I can’t possibly miss her ample rack. Those things are barely covered.

  She’s just a body.

  “Trish, babe.” I grab one of her sleeves and yank it down a little so her tits almost fall out for the crowd’s pleasure. “You want to have some fun?”

  She giggles. Of course she does. I don’t even need to ask. My cock grows stiff at the thought of her beneath me. It’s purely physical. But yeah, sex will be the way to get over Olive. And this girl will just be the first.

  Fight.

  Fuck.

  Sleep.

  Repeat.

  9

  Olive

  PRESENT DAY

  I pretend to be angry at Axel, but I’m a different person than I was three years ago. He hurt me then. But now I have to play like it’s all fine and perfect, like he never hurt me in the first place.

  For Lark.

  That’s what I named her. She began a new chapter of my life, and she came into this world cooing and singing. She brightened my life like a song, and made my heart sing again. My precious baby. And now I have to do what is best for her. Maybe not what’s best for me, but for Lark.

  He can’t get close like that again.

  “Congratulations,” he mutters.

  He never used to mutter. That’s how I know he doesn’t mean it.

  I’m lying, and I’m pissed. How can he come back now, when everything’s going so well? Where was he before when I needed him so desperately? Doesn’t he know how much I needed him before?

  I doubt it.

  I purse my lips in a thin line like I used to when I was a kid, when all I had to worry about was stories and getting through the school day. Axel meant so much to me then. He changed my life, forever.

  Sometimes I wonder if he ruined it.

  No …

  Shut up, Olive. He’s an old friend, but that’s it. He means nothing to you now. Less than nothing. In fact, you’re fucking pissed at him.

  I move to the coffee table, where I pick up a mug and the remote control. The coffee inside is lukewarm but I bring it to my lips. Anything for an excuse not to talk to him. I focus on the grounds at the bottom of the mug instead of the wounded look on his face.

  Jason never looks at me like that. Jason is emotional, but he’d never do anything to hurt me. Unlike Axel.

  “Whatever,” I say into my drink, hearing it echo back to me. I doubt Axel hears anything. I set down the mug and glare at him. It probably looks like hate to him. Good. “I have to go get Lark.”

  “Lark?” he questions, stupidly.

  We’ve both changed over the years. He must have gotten slower.

  I roll my eyes at him, making sure he can see it. “My daughter, stupid. She has to go to preschool.”

  Never mind that he and I met in preschool. The same thing had better not happen to Lark. We’ll be moving around more than my family did, though. We’ve always been too stationary, at least for my taste. But maybe I feel that way because of how close I got to Axel …

  I shake my head. “Stay where you are, and don’t break anything.”

  I resist the urge to throw something at him, partly because I actually don’t want him here and partly in frustration that his lips aren’t crushing against mine. “And don’t you dare swear around my daughter.”

  He looks like he’s about to say something—his lips part, but he refrains.

  No longer the awkward, shy girl I once was, I turn on my heel. That Olive might be buried somewhere deep inside of me, but around Axel she isn’t coming out.

  I leave him dumbfounded, and it kills the piece of me inside that screams for me to go back to him.

  Lark should be out of her room by now. Sometimes, she struggles to get out of bed, though, or to put on her clothes. She is three, going on four. Maybe I should still be helping her. I love Lark so much, but every time I see her, I think of Axel.

  And then it hits me like I’m the one that got slapped.

  He still doesn’t know he is her father. Will he recognize himself in her the way I do?

  I’m about to open the door, but it yawns open before I get there, and my little bundle of joy crashes through it. She’s wearing one of her favorite dresses, a frilly pink thing Selena bought her as a joke.

  “Mommy,” her little voice interrupts.

  I feel sick even thinking about Axel seeing her. I drop to my knees in an instant, brushing her lovely curls out of her face and scooping her in for a hug.

  She needs a father. I know this. It’s why I’m engaged.

  I feel Axel’s eyes on us, and it makes my skin prickle.

  “Did you sleep well, darling? No bad dreams, I hope?”

  “Nope!” She grins and I can’t help but smile at her. She’s my little ray of sunshine who makes everything so much better. “Do we have a visitor, Mommy?”

  My expression clouds over.

  I wrap my arms around her, bringing her to my chest. I’ll protect her from anything bad in the world, anything that could make her sad. I got together with Jason just after she was born. She has to think he’s her father. What else could she think?

  “Are you ready to go to school, baby?” I kiss her forehead, ignoring her previous question.

  She nods vigorously, and when we walk into the living room, there’s Axel staring at us. His eyes are deep and beautiful and filled with sorrow. My heart catches in my throat. I want to say something, but what?

  “Where are my two favorite girls?” A deep voice booms down the hallway.

  Jason strides through the foyer, throwing his arms around me as he stares down my first love. I lean into him, but it’s just an act.

  Am I Jason’s? Or does my heart still belong to Axel?

  I shouldn’t question this. Jason is the one who put that ring on my finger. He’s been taking care of me.

  I sigh wistfully.

  “You okay?” Jason asks me a question, but it’s all for show. He doesn’t want an answer. He presses his lips against mine softly, focusing more on Axel in the background than on me. He looks from Axel, to me, and then back again.

  He remembers him. He must. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Sure.” My words come out defensive. I hope Jason doesn’t notice. “I was just walking him out.”

  It’s not a lie.

  I leave Lark with Jason and grab Axel’s forearm, digging my nails into his flesh. I drag him toward the door and he follows. It hurts that he doesn’t resist. I half expected him to dig his heels in and demand I answer his questions.

  I push him into the hallway. “Never call me again, Axel,” I say coldly.

  And as I deliver the blow, I know it’s breaking my own heart more than his. Surely, it shouldn’t be this way …

  “But, Olive,” he manages to get out. “Your little girl.”

  “What?” I bark.

  “Am I … is she …” He stares at me hopefully, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, desperate for an answer.

  “Don’t fucking fool yourself, Axel Reign,” I say, and immediately I can see how badly I’ve hurt him.

  “What’s her name?” he wants to know.

  I hesitate. But he deserves to know.

  “Lark,” I whisper, before slamming the door in his face.

  Selena clicks her seatbelt in the passenger seat as she slams the door closed. “I can’t believe yo
u let Axel come over.”

  “It was your idea!” I take the car out of park. She’s been talking about Axel nonstop like we’re in eleventh grade again. She had lots to say when she wanted to know about our date that night; she had even more to say when I was expecting. That I should tell him. Go to him. Get a little house by the sea and start a family with him. I did none of it, and I don’t say much now.

  “Don’t you want to see him, Olive? Be with him again? You were obsessed with him for years,” Selena continues, ignoring my death grip on the steering wheel. “You had his baby. You want him. Admit it.”

  I stop the car at a red light, gritting my teeth. I wonder if he’s still a boxer, if he still takes out his rage on punching bags when he’s upset. I’d love nothing more than to do that right now, maybe with him behind me, guiding my punches so I don’t hurt myself.

  But then … The other half of me wants to use him as the bag.

  “I’m getting married, Selena.” This needs to be the end of the conversation. Selena is my best friend. All I need to do is tell her to drop it and she’ll probably quit mentioning it.

  But I don’t.

  “Yeah, which, if you think about it,” Selena keeps talking, her injection-filled lips moving faster than most people imagined her mind could, “is a horrible idea.”

  The light turns green, and I press the accelerator.

  We’re almost there.

  “We’re trying on dresses for a rehearsal, Selena! This is the end of it. Enough!” My voice rises and I feel bad for yelling at my friend, but I have to draw a line somewhere. Before I start considering the possibilities.

  “Look. Dresses are nice and all, but Axel is better. Think about it. I’m not backing down from this, Olive, just consider it. You always preferred him to Jason anyway.”

  I pull into the parking lot, find an empty space and turn off the car.

  Throwing the door open, I emerge with as much enthusiasm as my bittersweet heart can muster. “Finally, we’re here.”

  And before Selena can say anything more, I give her a look that warns we’ve ended the discussion on Axel.