Before She Was Mine

by Amelia Wilde

  “I’ll make dinner tonight.”

  “Okay, but how much dinner?”

  “All the dinner the two of you can eat.” She laughs. “And if that’s not enough, I’ll go out for more. How does a second dessert sound?”

  “Almost as good as unbuttoning that shirt.”

  Simon glances over at me from his cubicle and gives me a thumbs up. Yeah. Time to end this call. I twist toward the inner corner of my own cubicle and lower my voice. “You can unbutton it all you want in two hours.”

  “Come straight home,” Summer says. “This apartment is too empty without you.”

  Who could resist that kind of invitation?

  23

  Summer

  The lollipop is a burst of sour—sour something—on my tongue. “Oh, my God.”

  Dayton rolls over in bed, his face creased from the pillow, and pushes himself halfway up. “Are you okay?”

  I brandish the lollipop in his face. “What is this?”

  He reaches over me to grab for the box on the bedside table and consults it, dark eyes lit up with an amusement that makes me feel a warm blush of pleasure, despite the disgusting puke feeling threatening from the edge of the bed. “Looks like sour raspberry.”

  “Yikes.”

  Still, I take another lick of it.

  Dayton tosses the box back onto the bedside table and swings his legs over the side of the bed. He hops for the bathroom. Water runs.

  I lick the lollipop again. It’s not terrible, but it is really sour. They’re not kidding about that part. And the rocking, seasick feeling in my gut is subsiding, at least a little. It’s worst when I’ve just woken up.

  I need to get more of it in my mouth.

  “Christ.” Dayton leans against the doorway of the master bath, his dark eyes on me.

  I raise a hand to my hair. “That bad, huh?”

  He grins, a half-smile that has warmth going other places, and leaps for the bed. “That bad.” Under the covers, he runs one hand over the curve of my belly, lifting beneath the tank top. I look more food baby than actual baby, but my tank top doesn’t care about the difference. It was a little small when I bought it. Now we’re over the line. “Your tongue on that thing—”

  “You bought this for me. One-day shipping!” I shake my head. The box showed up yesterday afternoon and Dayton tore into it, lifting out each item one at a time, convinced it would cure me.

  So far, he’s been right.

  He kisses my neck and his hand slides down, finding the elastic of my panties and slipping beneath. “I didn’t think it would be so sexy to watch you eat them.”

  “Day—” The last blurry edges of the nausea dissipate when he strokes my clit with the pads of two fingers. “I can’t—” I should brush my teeth. It’s time for my workout. If I don’t get my workout in early, I end up napping instead. Pregnancy is a bitch that way.

  Everything else? Not a bitch.

  Especially Dayton’s fingers against my clit, his lips teasing the line of my jaw, his voice in my ear. “You can.”

  I relax against the pillow, my eyes fluttering shut. He plucks the lollipop out of my hand and I hear the stick clatter against my empty water glass. “My workout—” It’s a weak protest, and he knows it. In fact, by taking off my tank top, he’s only helping me toward my goal.

  “I’ll make your heart beat faster, if that’s what you want.” His fingers move lower, playing at my entrance. “Look—you’re already wet.” He presses them inside, taunting me, and takes them away.

  “You can’t do that.” It’s not a whine, but it’s a near thing.

  “I can.”

  He moves over me and I open my eyes to follow the lines of his tattoos. Day’s arms work—there go my panties—and then his big hands are on my thighs, spreading me open beneath him.

  His eyes rake over me, possessive of every naked, exposed inch of my skin. The heat in his eyes is enough to make me come.

  He must sense it, because he looks at me and strokes the inside of one thigh. “You’re panting.”

  Desire spikes through my core. I’m getting slicker by the second. There’s that grin again. Dayton commenting on my body this way turns me on like nothing else in the world.

  “I want you.” It’s a raw whisper.

  “I can see that.”

  I tilt my hips upward in his hands. “Please—”

  He moves backward on the bed and bends his head. The first stroke of his tongue against my slit has my fists curling into the pillowcases. The second has me trembling against his lips.

  “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” His breath is hot between my legs, and then he can’t say anything more.

  I sprawl back against the pillows, freshly fucked and glowing.

  Dayton nudges one arm. “Aren’t you going to work out?”

  “No. I’m going to stay in bed the rest of the day. That was—” I’m at a loss for words. Transcendent seems almost enough, but not quite. “That was incredible.”

  “Hmm.” His voice is full of faux disappointment. “I’ll do better next time.”

  I push myself up on one elbow. “Better than incredible?”

  “If it was that incredible, you’d be on your knees, begging for more.” He works his face into something resembling a hard look.

  My laughter is interrupted by my cell phone, ringing on the bedside table. I snatch it up while Day falls back against his own pillow, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

  The name on the caller ID makes my stomach turn over.

  It’s Wes.

  I haven’t breathed a word of moving in with Dayton. I haven’t told anyone. I like the feeling of this secret, happy bubble we’re in too much to shatter it by opening my big mouth.

  But I do answer the call.

  “Hey, Wes. What’s up?”

  “Sunny,” he says, his voice ringing with confidence. “I’m coming to the city next weekend. Can I take you out to lunch?”

  Dayton has perked up at the sound of Wes’s voice, and my heart pounds. It’s not right to keep this to myself forever. It’ll hurt Wes—it’ll hurt everyone—if the first news they hear is of the birth. I owe my family some notice. I might as well start with Wes. “You know what?” I say the words slowly, choosing them one by one. “I have a new place.”

  “You do?” There’s a rustling sound on the other end of the line like he’s transferring his phone from one shoulder to the other. “I didn’t know you moved.”

  “I did. A few weeks ago. Why don’t you come over for dinner?”

  I raise my eyebrows at Dayton, asking his permission. Begging his forgiveness, really. His eyes flash, but he nods, one motion. Crisp. Accepting.

  “I’ll be there,” Wes says. “Two o’clock on Saturday?”

  “Sounds perfect.” I give him the address.

  “See you then.”

  I drop the phone back onto the bedside table and look at Dayton, who’s staring back up at the ceiling. “Are you okay with this?”

  He lets out a long breath, then rolls toward me, his hand coming down softly on my lower back. Day leans in and kisses me on the temple. “You should get your workout in before you get tired.”

  It’s the first day of April, sunny and warm for once, and my capris still fit. I’m ten days into my second trimester. Tank, bra, hoodie, I’m good to go.

  I head out in front of our apartment. It’s a two-bedroom in Bed-Stuy, which means a longer commute, but the neighborhood has more trees. I like how the spring sunlight filters through them.

  I feel so good in this moment that I could jog. I put in one of my headphones, leaving the other one out for safety, and run down the block, slow but steady. It feels amazing to move. This pregnancy thing has made it very touch and go when it comes to exercise, but in my limited Googling, I learned that working out is essential to a healthy pregnancy, so I’m going to do it, damn it.

  Four blocks down, during my first walking break, a car pulls up to the curb alongside me. />
  I dismiss it as a cab at first, but it continues rolling along next to me.

  The window comes down.

  “Summer Sullivan. Hey! Summer Sullivan. I see you.”

  It’s not a voice I know. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. The earphone closest to the car is the one that’s in, so I pretend not to hear.

  “Where’s Dayton these days?” It’s a rough voice, tinged with an accent so faint I can’t place it. I’m four blocks from home. The car is here beside me. Dayton’s not. “I know you know where he is.”

  I risk a glance at the car, but I can’t see the person inside—the sun’s too bright, the windows darkened, and the interior too shadowy.

  I break into a run. There’s a park half a block up the street. If I can get there, I’ll double back. Behind me, the car screeches out into the street and the engine revs as it speeds up to stay with me. Someone behind him honks. I get to the intersection, look once, and go across against the sign. Shit, shit, shit. What’s happening?

  There’s a young couple on the far side of the park, and I veer in the front entrance, blood singing in my ears. Is he going to get out and follow me in? The sidewalk is rough, pieces jutting up from the ground, and my heart is beating out of control. I wrench my head around—how much time do I have?—and my toe catches on a piece of concrete.

  I trip and fall awkwardly to the side, landing against a concrete planter that connects with my pregnant belly. It lurches with pain. I sit down hard on the grass, nausea rising, and throw up next to the planter. I don’t see anyone coming after me, and the couple is gone.

  Oh God. Oh God, oh God.

  24

  Dayton

  It’s a shitty thing to do, to blindside Wes like this. No matter how I turn it around in my head, it sucks. If it was me, I wouldn’t want to walk into this nice family dinner only to find my oldest enemy sitting across from me at the table.

  Summer’s out jogging, and I’m standing here in the shower, trying to plan my way out of being an asshole.

  Before I saw her face in that office building that day, I didn’t care about being an asshole, which is why all that shit happened after my discharge. It said “honorable.”

  I’m not honorable.

  At least, I wasn’t then.

  I haven’t heard anything more about Alex. Alexei, I remind myself for the thousandth time. It’s been a couple of months, at least. Maybe he’s left the city again. I wouldn’t put it past a guy like him to drop by, wreak some havoc, and then disappear. He wants me to be on edge. I’m not going to give him the pleasure.

  The dinner with Wes seems more pressing.

  I’m washing the scent of Summer off of me—it’s a fucking shame, watching it go down the drain with the soap—when everything running through my head comes to a screeching halt. My thoughts are interrupted mid-sentence by a sound that’s barely audible over the hiss of the hot water, the cascade against the floor of the shower.

  The buzz of my phone.

  I run my hands through my hair and turn off the water. I reach the phone before it stops ringing, but honestly, I’m glad Summer’s not here to see me hop like that—frantically, trying to wrap a towel around my waist with one hand. I know exactly what she’d say. Something wildly inappropriate to entice me to get back into bed with her. As if she needs to say anything to entice me back into bed.

  I snatch the phone up fast enough to see that it’s not a number I have saved. I don’t have a lot of numbers saved. Summer and I got the phones together last month, our first bill together. She let me have my name on the account. She also got herself a shiny new iPhone. I insisted on getting last year’s model.

  “Hello?” I lean my bad leg against the bed and tie on the towel. I know the people on the phone can’t see me. It doesn’t matter.

  “I’m looking for Dayton Nash.”

  “This is Dayton Nash.”

  “Mr. Nash, I’m a nurse on staff in the emergency department at Woodhull. Your wife was brought in about twenty minutes ago for—”

  I don’t hear what she says. There’s a rushing sound in my ears, a seizing pressure in my chest. It doesn’t matter. I’m already in motion, hopping for the closet. I lean against the door and yank out boxers, jeans, and a t-shirt and throw them onto the bed.

  “What’s the address?”

  “Sir, I want to give you the information you’re going to need—”

  “Stop talking and tell me the address.” It’s the kind of tone I used a thousand times in the military. This nurse is working in the closest thing civilians have to a war zone. She knows authority when she hears it.

  Or maybe she knows it’s thinly disguised panic.

  Either way, she tells me the address.

  Exactly one minute later, I run out of the apartment, no jacket, only my phone and wallet and that address on a sticky note. I don’t even lock the door.

  The ultrasound room is so dark I can’t see shit at first.

  All I see is that everyone startles when I burst through the door. It’s flashes of motion at the corner of my eyes and I sweep the room, eyes on every corner, once, twice. It’s an old habit. I keep looking for details even as my pupils adjust to the darkness.

  “Summer?”

  Summer’s bed in the emergency room—it has to be the worst emergency room in the city—was empty when I got here, and you’d better fucking believe I wasn’t going to wait around for her to get back.

  My breathing is steady, but my heart is racing.

  The ultrasound tech turns, the dim light from the machine giving her face an eerie glow. “Sir, you can’t be in here.”

  Footsteps in the hallway. The nurse who’s been trailing me all the time comes in, out of breath. “God,” she says, clapping a hand to her chest. “I don’t know how you can move that fast with—” She registers the look on the tech’s face, which says call security. “This is the father. He insisted.”

  “Day, I’m right here.”

  Summer’s voice is soft, and I hear the hint of a tremble, and fuck everybody else in this room. I cross over to the side of her bed and gather her into my arms. Her hoodie is hiked up over her belly and there’s a paper sheet tucked into her capris. All of her is smeared with ultrasound gel.

  I take her face in my hands. She looks okay. Shaken, but okay. She gives me a little nod.

  Pain spikes up through my prosthetic. The adrenaline kept it at bay until this moment, but it’s a raw, twisting pain. Summer doesn’t need to know about it. I sit down heavily on a stool next to the bed and entwine my fingers through hers.

  The ultrasound tech clears her throat. “Are we okay to resume the ultrasound?”

  “Yes,” Summer says. “Yes.” Her grip on my hand tightens, and another silvery thread of adrenaline courses through my veins. What’s wrong with the baby?

  The tech presses the wand against her belly, swiping it back and forth until the baby emerges.

  At first, all I see is a blob, but then the features resolve themselves—a tiny alien head, and—holy shit. Fists. Fists punching at the air.

  “Here’s baby,” the tech says neutrally. Summer’s holding my hand so tight I think she’s cutting off the blood flow. More swiping of the wand, more careful examination. “Very active,” the tech announces, after what feels like a thousand years. “I don’t see any evidence of bleeding. Your baby is perfectly healthy.”

  Summer lets out a strangled sob and turns to bury her face in my arms.

  The tech stands up, wipes off Summer’s belly with a towel, and turns off the machine. “I’ll give you a few minutes.” She hits a switch on the way out and lights—dim, soft lights—rise in the room.

  I can finally see her clearly.

  Summer’s hair is disheveled, pulled to one side, and I smooth it away from her face, before wrapping my arms around her. I hold her until her shoulders stop shaking.

  “God,” she says, sitting up and pulling her hoodie back down. “I was so scared.”

  I ta
ke her hand. “Sunny, why? What happened?”

  Her chin trembles again and she takes a deep breath. “I was running.”

  “Did you fall?”

  “Yes, but—” She shakes her head. “I was a few blocks away, almost to that park, and a car pulled up next to me. Some guy inside was calling out my name.” Summer shivers. “My full name. I tried to ignore him, but then he started asking about you. Asking where you were. He said, I know you know.”

  Oh, Jesus.

  “What did he look like?”

  “I didn’t see him.” She raises one hand to her hair, looking down. “I tried to look, but—” Her eyes meet mine, wide and regretful. “I was fucking terrified. I ran into the park and my foot caught on, I don’t know, a piece of concrete? I hit a planter on the way down. Right in the belly.” She winces. “Who do you know that would be looking for you?”

  I gather her up in my arms and stroke her hair absently.

  I know exactly who’d be looking for me, and I know why.

  I never thought he’d come back for his revenge. Not like this.

  I was wrong.

  And now he’s found us.

  “Don’t worry about it, Sunny. Don’t worry for a second.”

  She wraps her arms around me and holds on tight. “Day?”

  “Yeah?”

  I brace for an argument, even as my mind races through all the possible options for keeping her safe. We could move out of the city. No. She’d never do that. She’d never leave Heroes on the Homefront. We could move somewhere else in the city. But Summer’s not in any shape to apartment hunt. Not again. Last time was hard enough, and in the end, we basically lucked into the place in Bed-Stuy.

  “Can we get out of here? This place is awful.”

  “Of course.” I help her up off the bed, my mind racing. I don’t want to stay at the house tonight, but I don’t want to stress her out. That would be the worst thing.