by J. M. Dabney
“You shut your disgusting mouth. Find somewhere else to eat your meals. Get the hell out.”
The ex-boxer who worked as cook had come out from the kitchen, and Bret stood back to watch the man grab the back of Murphy's jacket. Bruno jerked Murphy up and walked the man none too gently toward the door, then Bruno tossed Murphy out. Murphy’s expression through the glass warned of trouble to come.
This wasn't the end of it. No matter how far Murphy had fallen from his Golden Boy days that egotistical narcissist hadn't faded with age or wisdom. He released Philly’s hands and spun in the circle of her arms.
“Mom?”
“She's fine, son. Why don't you go home and we'll be right behind you.”
“But—”
“Miles, I'll take care of her, I promise you that.”
“She—no one deserved what he was saying.”
“No one does.”
He reluctantly slipped one arm from around Philly and pulled Miles in for a hug. He didn't give a shit that the boy was taller or broader than him, Miles was still his son. The tears in Miles' eyes made him want to make everything better.
“I'll just go home. Don't be long.”
There was one thing that he knew about Miles—the young man wasn't afraid of his emotions. But that didn't mean Miles wasn't embarrassed about people outside the family or his friends seeing him cry. He waited until Miles disappeared and without saying a word, he ushered Philly into the back and down the short hall to Gladys' office. He kicked the door closed behind him.
“Philly, look at me, baby, please.”
Philly just shook her head and wouldn't lift her gaze to his.
“What he said doesn't mean anything.”
“It means everything. The gossips are already talking shit and Murph—he didn't help. I think we should…maybe I should move back to the trailer. They haven't—”
He wasn't going to let her give up to save himself from some stupid gossip. Philly was his. Always had been. He gently pushed her away to get her attention, and the shock of the motion had her jerking her eyes up. The mere thought of her breaking up with him felt liked she'd gutted him.
“I'll give up my job and work as a rancher the rest of my life because I'm not giving you up. My job doesn't matter.”
“You love your job.”
“I love you more.”
“Bret.”
“Don't say anything. I don't want you to until you're ready. Let's go home. I'll run you a bath and give you a massage.”
“Promise me something first, though.”
“Anything.”
“That if us being together at any point causes you problems that you'll tell me.”
“I promise, but you'll never be a problem. I plan to keep you around for a long time. Ready to go?”
“Yes, I want my fat pants, and I want them now.”
“Now, Philly, who said I had plans to let you get dressed any time soon?”
He gave her the flirty smirk that always made her smile and brighten. He titled his head down to lace his fingers through hers.
The peace he felt when he was with her was slightly marred by what had happened. He wouldn't ruin the mood by letting her see what her saying they shouldn't be together did to him. Far too long, he'd done the right thing. Kept space between them to make sure she never paid for the misconceptions that would come with them dating or maybe more.
“We're fine, Philly, I promise.”
This time he hoped Philly believed him.
One More Time and She Was Going to Hurt Someone
She rested all her weight back against the counter as she used one hand to push her heavy curls out of her face and sipped at her quickly cooling tea. The tea was about the only thing she could keep in her stomach. She'd lost a few pounds and hadn't eaten anything of substance in nearly two weeks. One more barf session and she was going to kill someone. Particularly Bret, but she could only use the excuse of a stomach virus for so long before Bret would take it out of her hands and make her go to the doctor.
How the fuck am I going to tell him? She felt like such a coward. Bret would be happy, or at least she hoped he would be, but every time she opened her mouth just to say it, the words wouldn't come.
She had the house to herself. Miles was off Christmas shopping with Klein. Bret was finishing out the last week before Christmas break.
Murphy hadn't come back into the diner since Gladys told him to find somewhere else to go, but that didn't keep the fucker from loitering outside. Leering at her through the window. It was like high school all over again. Right after the rape, he'd come by the diner—watched her. Past repeating itself and bringing all the stress back of those early months and just like before she was pregnant again.
How fucked up was Karma? What had she done so damn wrong? Unplanned or not, she was happy about the baby, but everything good always came with a huge heaping of bad.
A knock rattled the back door, and she twisted to set her cup aside. She tightened Bret's robe around her and shuffled on her socked feet. As she turned the knob, the door flew open. The suddenness of it caused her to stumble back against the island. Pain flared out from the center of her back.
The scent of unwashed flesh surrounded her as a big body pushed her back hard enough for the edge of the island top to cut into her skin. Terry cloth wasn't any protection against that.
Once she got her senses back, she brought her knee up, but it didn't connect. Yet it gave her the chance to slip away.
“Hello, Philomena.”
“Don't fucking call me that.”
He'd done that the night they'd trapped her out in the pasture.
The parties had happened, rain, shine or snow nearly every weekend. It was tradition, and she'd so wanted to be included. The popular girls had approached her, invited her, and she should've known something was wrong. She hadn't listened to her gut. She'd pretended to drink three beers so no one would make fun of her.
When it had gotten later and she'd wanted to go, Murphy and two of his teammates had agreed to drive her home. She hadn't made it out of the field that night. Murphy had raped her as his teammates cheered him on. She'd fought and screamed, but no one was around to help, and if they had been would it have mattered? She was just the ugly, fat girl with the good grades and no friends.
“Coach is making life pretty complicated, Philomena. Watching me wherever I go, oh, maybe not him, but got someone following me. My parents found out about all those bastards I got running around. Ain't any of them right, but Miles, that boy of mine, he's—”
“Bret made Miles—”
The burning pain of a backhand jerked her head to the side. She lifted her head as she backed away. She remembered that look in his eyes. It was the same evilness he had eighteen years ago. She'd never planned to experience that fear again. The knife block was so close yet so far away.
“I think you need a reminder.” He pulled at the front of his jeans, pushed his shirt up over the hairless, sagging curve of his belly.
She wouldn't let it happen—never again. She used his cumbersome frame against him and darted to the knives. His hands fisted in her hair. She cried out at the first punch to her ribs, and the impact forced the air from her lungs. She clawed for the knives. She barely got her hand around the hilt of the blade when he pushed up against her back. She tried to curve her body forward as he landed two more blows and then she fumbled the weapon loose of the holder. With one very loud bellow, she brought it down, sticking the blade into his thigh.
He released her, and as she had the thought to run, rage took over, and she yanked the blade out as she turned. Blood trickled down the smooth surface of the shiny metal and onto her hand. She thrust it forward and placed it against the side of his throat.
“I spent nearly six years, six fucking years looking over my shoulder. Waiting for you and your teammates to come back like you threatened.”
“Bitch, you screamed so pretty when I took that—”
He grunte
d and flinched as she increased the pressure, drawing more blood.
The adrenaline pumping through her system didn't cut the pain in her muscles.
“You better kill me, Philomena, because I'll make sure you pay—”
“You might want to rethink that threat.”
She spun at the slurred words coming from behind her and moved to the side at the sight in front of her. Clayton stood in the open door, a shotgun braced on the corner of the counter and the butt pushed tight against his hip.
“Honey, come on over here, and we can wait for the Sheriff to show up.”
Murphy might not have noticed it, but the tremor of Clayton's hand was evident to her. At the cocking of the shotgun, Murphy threw his hands in the air. She turned, and after walking over to him, she twisted her hands in Clayton's heavy jacket, burying her face in the chilled fabric. The scent reminded her of Bret after a morning ride, and she deeply inhaled trying to calm herself. The threat was gone, but it had brought up too many memories. Ones she'd buried for so long so she'd stay sane.
“Honey, are you—”
“I need to go to the hospital.” She tried to bite back the fear.
“Deputies and ambulance are on the way.”
“Did you call Bret?”
“He's going to be—”
Clayton's statement was cut off as Deputies and paramedics filled the room.
“Philly, where are you hurt?”
A paramedic she knew from the diner rushed to her side and helped her sit down on a nearby chair.
“My ribs and stomach.” She lowered her voice not wanting anyone to hear. “I'm pregnant, no one knows yet.”
After that everything was a blur, they were headed toward town and the small hospital. They'd transfer if needed. She was situated in an exam room, set up with a baby monitor and was waiting for the doctor to come in to examine her.
She leaned her head back to listen to the quick whooshing sound of her baby’s heartbeat. She remembered that from Miles too. It was one of the most beautiful sounds she'd ever heard in her life. She relaxed at the strong rhythm. Her eyes opened at the sound of the slide of the exam room curtain.
“Philly, how are you doing?” The resident doctor of all trades breezed in with a smile and clipboard.
“I'm fine. No odd pains. I have been in labor before.”
“Babies are very resilient but better safe than sorry. So, I'm going to ask a few questions to get a better idea of what we're looking at and then we'll do an ultrasound.”
“Um, could you maybe get Bret before the ultrasound? I haven't told him yet.”
“And why is that? Is everything okay?”
“We haven't talked about kids, and we're sorta—”
“Anyone who’s watched that man look at you over the years doesn't think it's anything new even if you two just started dating. So, answer a few questions, and then I'll do a pelvic. After all that we'll let you see your baby.”
She was good and complied with everything the doctor asked. Gritted her teeth through the examination. It might be her doctor, but she still didn't like when people touched her. Then she realized never once in all the time she knew Bret had he ever truly frightened her. The doctor removed the monitor after she was satisfied with everything.
“Strong heartbeat. We'll probably have you on bed rest for a few weeks just to be safe. I'll go get Bret and leave you alone for a few to share the good news.”
“Thanks.”
“It'll be fine. That man of yours will be over the moon about the baby.”
She smiled trying to pretend that she agreed. She'd never done this before. How did she tell Bret he was going to be a Dad? She wrung her hands on her stomach, straightened the sheet, and repeated until the curtain opened.
“Baby girl, are you okay?”
Bret didn't even give her a chance to answer before he was checking her over. Removed the sheet and pushed the gown out of the way, then she listened to him curse. He kissed her roughly as he held her tight. She tasted the saltiness of his tears on his lips. She raised her hands to stroke his hair. Trying to soothe him.
“I'm okay.”
“Then why are you here? Do you need x-rays? Are they—”
“I'm fine. Bruised but fine. There's something we need to talk about.”
He retreated far enough until his gaze caught hers. “Did Mur—”
“No, Clayton showing up with a shotgun made sure that didn't happen. What do you think about kids, Bret?”
“Do you want to try for a baby?”
“You didn't answer me.”
“I've wanted—Philly, I want nothing more than to be able to walk you down the aisle and add to our family. All that is up to you though. I won't ever pressure you.”
“Why won't you pressure me, Bret?”
Bret was always so careful with her. He loved when she took the lead. Touched or kissed first, and she loved being near him. The sex was great, but she enjoyed the cuddling just as much. She loved him. Bret loudly sighed as he stroked his scruffy cheeks over the curve of her belly. She worked her fingers through his hair.
“You had Miles so young, and I just want you to have a chance to go to school—travel. We can think about kids later.”
“Too late.”
Her amusement at his confusion was probably inappropriate at the moment, but she couldn’t help that.
“What?”
“I haven't had a period in three months, and I took a test.”
She searched his expression as the puzzlement faded from his expression and the biggest grin she’d ever seen spread his mouth wide.
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Why haven't you told me, baby girl?”
“I don't know. We never talked about it. And I've been on birth control since I was seventeen. I told you I was and then—”
“Is…is the baby okay?”
She could tell when the bruises came to his mind and fear twisted his handsome face. Tears started to fill Bret’s eyes at the thought that something was wrong. She had to reassure him even if she wasn’t confident. Anything could’ve happened, but she needed to think positive and hope that the baby was fine. She knew that it would kill Bret if anything happened to her or their child.
“Their heartbeat sounded really strong. The doctor’s going to do an ultrasound to see exactly how far along I am.”
“And how far along are you?”
“I got morning sickness at four months with Miles, and I've been sick for two weeks.”
“Is this why you haven't been sleeping or eating?”
“Yes, are you mad?”
“No way in hell I would be mad. Are they doing the ultrasound to make sure nothing's wrong?”
“Just as a precaution, but I'm about due one if I'm as far along as I think.”
“You're marrying me.”
“I am, huh?”
“Yes. And you're going to cut down on your hours at the diner. There's no way you're going to work as hard as you did with Miles. I know how uncomfortable you were. I love you, always have and always will. This is like every dream I've ever had, and I'm not letting you go.”
“Sorry to interrupt, are you two ready to see your baby?”
“Yes,” they answered together.
As much as she wanted to stare at the image of her baby on the monitor, she couldn't take her eyes away from the rapt expression on Bret's face. In the almost twenty years she'd known him, she'd never seen him as happy as he looked right then. His eyes shimmered with tears. She swore Bret couldn't smile any wider. The doctor explained everything and answered the seemingly endless questions Bret shot at her.
“Philly, you might want to see this.”
She rolled her head on the soft pillow and stared at the swirls and angles of monochrome. Memories of the first time she saw Miles came back to her. Even in the uncertainty of her future, the profundity of the life inside her had made her forget about her job, bills and every other worry. Tha
t day at sixteen she'd learned true love.
“Philly, meet your babies, here's twin A”—the doctor pointed at the screen, then moved a scant inch—“and twin B.”
“Oh shit,” she whispered as Bret laughed.
“Baby girl.”
She opened her eyes. Bret was standing in the open doorway of the room she was given. They called it a precaution for making her stay overnight, but all she wanted was to go home. Sleep in her own bed curled up with Bret. She turned her head back to find Miles passed out in an uncomfortable chair in the corner. She lost track of how much time she'd taken to reassure her son that she was fine. In her helplessness, she'd gone low and told him about his siblings. She'd lovingly watched him as he'd spent an hour talking to her stomach.
Tears had filled her eyes as Miles had told the babies in whispered tones how lucky they were to have Bret and her as parents. She'd only ever done what she could. There wasn't anything special in her actions. She'd just loved Miles beyond her failings and insecurities to make sure she raised a strong, independent and caring man. And she'd succeeded beyond her wildest dreams.
“You have a few visitors.”
She nodded and held her breath as Murphy's parents entered the room. They looked so much older than they had the last time they'd come to the diner. Lines deeper, hair thinner and more silver. She didn't know why they were there, and she reached out for Bret's hand, but she noticed they stared at Miles. Her son hadn't moved and softly snuffled in his sleep.
“Mr. and Mrs. Green, what are you doing here?”
“Philly, we understand…” Mr. Green cleared his throat. “If you don't want us here, but we felt the need to apologize for what our…Murphy did.”
“He's the one that did it. He broke into the house—”
Tears streamed down Mrs. Green’s weathered cheeks. “No, dear, for what he did to you in high school. We heard the rumors and pushed them aside. In no way did we think the boy we raised could do something so vile. So, from the bottom of our hearts, we're truly sorry for what he put you through then and now. Unless he can post bail on his own, he'll be in jail until his hearing. We wanted to let you know you're safe from him. You were and are an amazing mother. I am in awe of you.”
