by Laura Kaye
Caden had to clear his throat to get his voice to sound half normal. “Yeah they do.”
She chuckled and turned over, burying her face against his chest. They lay there for a long moment until she finally yawned. “I’m so tired.”
“Me, too,” Caden said, though probably not for the same reasons.
“Can we just fall asleep like this?” she mumbled.
“Anything you want,” he said, wishing it was true. Because he wasn’t dumb. A woman who wanted you to meet her family and who tattooed your initial onto her body wanted more. Maybe wanted everything. And he felt so amazingly privileged that Makenna James maybe wanted all that with him. But he also felt undeserving.
Always.
“I guess I gotta take care of the tattoo first,” she said, pushing herself up. She stroked her fingers along the tribal tattoo on his calf. “Will you help me?”
“Of course,” Caden said, scrubbing at the scar on the side of his head. “Be right there.”
“Okay.” She threw him a small smile over her shoulder before she got up. The light came on in the bathroom, sending a stream of brightness into the bedroom.
Which meant it was time to shake the fuck out of it. Because just like in that elevator, the darkness was only going to hide him for so long.
Nausea had Makenna tearing out of bed and dashing across the room. She threw up everything she’d had for dinner the previous night and possibly some stuff she’d eaten two weeks ago given how many times she wretched.
Damn. When she’d felt better yesterday, she’d assumed she was over the stomach virus. Maybe she ought to go to the doctor. Shuddering, she flushed the toilet, then pulled herself up to the sink to rinse out her mouth.
Which was when it occurred to her.
She was late.
No, she couldn’t be—
There’d been that one time a condom broke as Caden pulled out, but Makenna had had a period since then. True, it had been light. But her periods had always been like that—light one month, heavier the next; coming twenty-eight days later one month, then thirty-one the next. Which was why she hadn’t given the lateness much thought.
Except this nausea had her thinking.
No.
No.
Shit.
Thoughts reeling, she shuffled back into the bedroom, completely unsure what she was going to say, to find the bed empty. “Caden? Hey? Where’d you go?” She found the other rooms dark and empty. What the heck?
Flicking on the kitchen light, she found a note on the counter.
Red—
I didn’t want to wake you. Realized I needed something from the house before my shift so I left early. Talk to you later. –C
Makenna frowned. In all the time that they’d been together, he’d never left before morning. On a sigh, she combed her fingers through her hair. Not that it meant anything. Oh, screw it, she was just out of sorts from her maybe-but-probably-not-bathroom-revelation. Back in the bedroom, she disconnected her phone from its charger and shot off a text.
Missed waking up to your freaking gorgeous face. Have a good day! xo
She didn’t get a message right back, but he never texted while driving, and he was probably on his way to the station given the time. She sagged down onto the edge of the bed.
Could she really be pregnant? Her stomach did a flip flop that made her wrap her arms around herself. Crap. There was no way she could make it through the entire work day without finding out.
Forcing herself up, she threw on some leggings, a sweatshirt, and a pair of gray knit boots, and ran a brush through her hair. She bundled into her coat and grabbed her purse, and then she was a woman on a mission. This was one of the things she loved about where she lived—the little urban enclave of Clarendon had everything you could need, most of it within easy walking distance. Including the Walgreens, just two blocks away.
Soon she was standing in front of a shelf full of pregnancy tests. And, good God, why were there so many? Pluses, minuses, one line, two lines, words, symbols.
This is ridiculous. Right? I don’t need these.
Except. Maybe I do?
Pull down your big girl panties and pee on a stick and you’ll know for sure.
Right.
On a sigh, Makenna grabbed one test that claimed to be able to provide the earliest results. And then she picked another that not only gave the words “pregnant” or “not pregnant” but also estimated how many weeks had lapsed since her last ovulation. Awesome.
She made it back to her apartment in no time flat, and for the first time since she’d met Caden, she was glad he wasn’t there. Only because she didn’t want to burden him with a possible baby scare without knowing there was definitely something to worry about in the first place. If she thought he wasn’t ready to hear I love you, she could only imagine that his unreadiness to hear I’m pregnant would probably have to be multiplied by a factor of, like, a gajillion.
Dumping the bag out into the bathroom sink, Makenna had the oddest thought—she didn’t know what she wanted the results to say. Which made no sense given that she was twenty-five and they’d been together less than three months, but the thought was there all the same.
With her heart in her throat, she opened the boxes and laid the plastic sticks out in a row—two of each kind. She used them all, just to be quadruple sure. And then she waited. And her pulse raced. And her belly flipped.
And then the results came in.
Plus. Plus. Pregnant 3+. Pregnant 3+.
Makenna stared at the little windows like she was trying to decipher Sanskrit.
Plus. Plus. Pregnant 3+. Pregnant 3+.
She was pregnant. And it had been more than three weeks since she’d ovulated? How far along was she? She sank down onto the closed toilet lid and dropped her head into her hands.
Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod.
Okay. Don’t freak out.
Right. I’ll do that right after I freaking freak out!
“Stop. Think this through,” she said out loud. An idea came to mind and she went in search of her cell phone. She called her doctor’s office and found out how to get a blood test—might as well start with confirming this.
She quickly showered and dressed for work so she could stop on the way to get the blood test and have a chance of getting the results back before the weekend. Because even though she knew—home pregnancy tests were way too accurate to get four false positives—she still wanted the official result. And she suspected Caden would, too.
Staring into the bathroom mirror, her gaze dropped to her stomach.
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered to herself, as if she was revealing a secret. And she guessed she was. Because no way was she telling Caden until she knew everything there was to know.
Chapter Eleven
The nightmares were getting worse. They’d tormented him during the little bit of sleep he’d gotten the night before, so he’d gotten up and paced the living room, ultimately leaving rather than face Makenna’s knowing eyes in the morning. And during the long period of no calls they’d had during today’s shift, he’d drifted off, only for the nightmares to come at him again.
They all started the same.
It was the endings that were different.
In one, it was him and Makenna in the backseat when the car flipped, and it was Makenna who didn’t survive while he did. He called her name over and over, but she never answered.
In another, Sean morphed into Makenna from an earlier version of the dream. It was her eyes that accused him. Her voice that said, “It shoulda been me. I shoulda been the one to live.”
In a completely new spin of his subconscious, Caden became his father and Makenna, his mother. When the car flipped, Makenna suffered his mother’s fate, her head battered against the side window, her neck breaking, her death instant. And not only was Caden trapped hanging upside down knowing that everything he’d ever loved was gone, but knowing, too, that it was his own fault.
He’d lost control.
And she’d paid the price.
So by the time a call came in to the station, Caden’s head was a fucking wreck. Which probably explained why he had his very first on-the-job panic attack while responding to the scene of an accident. It was the hair that did it. The female driver’s long red hair.
His mind had done its usual thing, and for several long moments, he’d been absolutely sure his worst fears had come true. Makenna was dead in that car. His chest went tight, his breathing shallowed out, and he froze.
It didn’t matter that Makenna rarely drove her car. Nor that the car in the accident hadn’t been the same as Makenna’s little Prius. Or that there was absolutely no reason why Makenna would be on Duke Street near Landmark Mall at four o’clock in the afternoon when she worked miles away in Roslyn.
His brain didn’t trade in logic in moments like those.
Embarrassment aside, it was even worse that he could’ve jeopardized a patient’s life. In the end, the woman’s injuries weren’t that serious. But that wasn’t the point. He was fucking out of control, and he didn’t know what the hell to do about it. He hadn’t been this bad in years.
Then again, he hadn’t had anything to lose in years, either.
Now he did. And he was losing it.
When they returned to the station house, his captain called him into his office.
Exhausted and strung out, Caden dropped into the chair in front of his captain’s desk. In his forties and prematurely gray, Joe Flaherty had been Caden’s supervisor all nine years he’d worked in this house, and he was aware of Caden’s background. A few of the guys were, too.
As a rule, Caden didn’t flake out—he showed up early, he left late, he picked up extra shifts, he covered for the guys with families, he left his rig clean and well stocked, and he did the job to the best of his ability. They all knew he was solid. Well, until today.
“What happened out there, Grayson?” Joe asked, his voice concerned, but not unkind.
Caden scrubbed at his face. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” Caden said. “Nightmares about the accident have been coming back lately for some reason.” He shook his head, wanting to be honest, but not wanting to say more than he had to. He met Joe’s gaze head on. “When I first saw the woman, I thought it was Makenna.”
A thoughtful expression on his face, Joe nodded. “We all see someone we love in the face of a patient at some point, so don’t beat yourself up about that,” he said. “You talking to someone about the nightmares?”
He shook his head again. Caden hadn’t sought any kind of therapy in years. He’d worked things out. Gotten himself under control. Learned ways to handle his shit.
Only, clearly, that wasn’t all true anymore, was it?
“Maybe you need to consider it. Given your history, I always expected you to have issues responding to MVAs. The real miracle given the life-threatening nature of your accident and your PTSD is that you didn’t. And I watched you.”
Caden knew that was true. And he’d understood why. On some level, he’d actually appreciated it. Before his first times out there, he hadn’t known how he might respond either. But he’d been so driven to repay the debt, to help how Talbot had helped him, that he’d never had an issue. Accident scenes had never been a trigger for him the way they could be for other crash survivors.
The accident had scarred him physically, but the emotional trauma stemmed from its consequences. From losing his family. From surviving what they hadn’t. From being alone with their corpses—because he hadn’t known until later that his father had actually lived. From being left alone, in the car and all the years after, when his father checked out on him. From the fact that it took so long for someone to come help him that he hadn’t known they were real.
Caden nodded. “I hadn’t realized things were getting to me as bad as they apparently are. I’ll handle it.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t try to go it on your own. If your PTSD is flaring up enough to cause nightmares and give you a panic attack, something is stressing you out. Go talk to someone. That’s an order. Don’t make me pull you off shifts.”
A rock parked in his gut, Caden rubbed a hand over his scar. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Now go home,” Joe said. “Get some sleep. And ask Makenna when she’s gonna bring around more of those chocolate-iced brownies.”
“I’m still on,” Caden said.
“And I’m telling you to cut out. C-Shift will be on soon, so we’re covered. That wasn’t a suggestion.” Joe arched an eyebrow.
Well, fuck. Caden hadn’t been sent home once in nine years. And even though nothing in Joe’s tone or expression made him think there was anything punitive or even irritated about the command, Caden still felt he was letting down his captain, his station, his family—the only one he had.
This was the one place where he’d always had things together.
Standing took way more effort than he wanted to admit. He came to attention, spine straight, head up.
“Dismissed,” Joe said.
Caden made quick work of going home—to his townhouse in Fairlington that was just three blocks away. Makenna wouldn’t be at the apartment yet, and he was way too raw to be around her just then anyway.
Which was why he texted her a lie.
Came home sick. Flu or something. Gonna sleep it off here for a few days so I don’t get you sick. Talk to you later.
He stared at the words for a moment, then he hit Send. Maybe it wasn’t that much of a lie after all. Something was wrong with him. And he didn’t want to burden her with it. At least not until he figured out what had happened, what it meant, and what he needed to do about it.
Makenna was going a little crazy. Sitting in a ball on her couch, she’d been flipping cable channels for fifteen minutes without seeing a single thing worth watching. How was that even possible? But that wasn’t what was really driving her crazy.
No, she was going crazy because she hadn’t seen Caden in three days. They’d been texting all weekend, but he was still sick and not wanting to make her sick. It was killing her not to go help him, but he kept insisting she not come.
On top of that, she was going crazy because she’d gotten the official results from her doctor, and they’d confirmed what she already knew. She was pregnant.
But they’d also told her something she hadn’t known—based on her bloodwork, she could be as far along as eight weeks. Which meant it really had happened when that condom broke back in October. Knowing she was pregnant was the only thing keeping her from helping Caden whether he wanted her to or not. She probably shouldn’t chance getting sick.
Given how far along she was, the doctor’s office managed to fit her in for an ultrasound appointment for Tuesday. And part of what was making her crazy was not knowing whether she should tell Caden before Tuesday so he could go with her, or get the ultrasound by herself and make sure the baby was healthy before raising it with him. She knew she was probably overthinking the whole thing and not giving him enough credit, but all this alone time had hit at the worst possible moment and had her conjuring up every bad outcome possible.
And all the craziness was compounded by the fact that she didn’t feel like she should tell anyone else before Caden. She’d resisted calling her best friend, Jen, who was out of town on a Christmas shopping trip with her mom anyway. Besides Jen, her other closest friends had been college roommates, none of whom lived in the D.C. area. At any rate, she wasn’t so close with them anymore that she would’ve felt comfortable calling and dropping the Hey, I’m pregnant and scared my boyfriend is going to freak out conversation on them. In this moment, part of her wished she had more girlfriends, but she’d always had an easier time making guy friends. She’d always blamed that on growing up surrounded by men.
Which had her wondering what she was going to tell her family—and when. Patrick had always been a great sounding board for her. Because he was so much older than her, Ian, and Collin, he’d helped his dad out a lot when they were all young
. Later, he became almost a mentor to Makenna as she made decisions about college and careers. And her dad had never been anything but incredibly supportive, even when she was the first in the family to move out of the Philadelphia area. But telling one James man could be akin to telling them all, and that definitely wasn’t something she was ready to do yet.
Which was why at four o’clock on Sunday afternoon she was still in her pajamas and an entire pound bag of peanut M&Ms lay demolished on the end table next to her.
At least peanut M&Ms had protein.
Sorry lil’ nut. I’ll do better.
Makenna sighed.
And then she decided she’d had enough.
A woman on a mission, she turned off the TV and marched directly to the shower. Once clean, she awkwardly worked to apply Aquaphor to her tattoo, which had moved from being sore to being itchy. She threw on some comfortable clothes, stuffed her feet into boots, and grabbed her purse and coat. And then she headed to the store.
She had a care package to put together.
At the very least, she needed to see Caden, even if she didn’t stay.
Thinking of what she liked to have when she didn’t feel good, she roamed around the supermarket picking up chicken noodle soup and crackers, popsicles and ginger ale, tea bags for hot tea and bread for toast, among other things. As little as Caden had stayed there over the past two months, he couldn’t possibly have much food in the house, which made her feel bad for not doing this sooner. She threw in pain medicine and throat lozenges and Pepto Bismol.
And then she passed the aisle full of holiday items. Gift wrap, decoration, candy, and toys made it look like the North Pole had exploded in the middle of the Giant. Makenna grabbed Caden a bag of peanut M&Ms, because he liked them, too. A shelf of stuffed animals caught her eye, and even though it was a little corny, she was drawn closer.
What said Feel better! more than a cuddly stuffed animal? The fact that she was considering giving it to a big, tattooed, pierced, and scarred guy made it kinda funny, too—and anything that might make him smile seemed like a good idea to her. Besides, Caden might look a little rough around the edges, but he was a big teddy bear inside. And she’d always loved that dichotomy about him.
