by Stasia Black
Even thinking the word freaks me the hell out. Maybe I’m late because of all the extra farm work I’ve been doing. Don’t like, athletes miss their period sometimes because of all the strain on their bodies?
Except that even when I did crew in college and worked out for four hours a day on the weekends, I was still regular as clockwork.
I glance down at my flat stomach before quickly looking away again. Still, I can’t help my hand from creeping to touch low on my abdomen.
What if I am?
What does the cramping mean?
Oh God, what if I lose the baby before I even realized I had it?
I lose my breath at the thought.
Baby.
My baby. Our baby.
Can’t breathe, can’t breathe—
I stagger to my feet.
Sudden images flash before me: Me, my stomach heavy and round. Xavier holding a tiny baby, the grin that so rarely appears cracking his face as he looks down in wonder at the bundle in his arms. Tiny fingers grasping mine.
Oh God, what if— what if— I stumble to the bathroom.
When I try the doorknob, I almost weep with relief to find it unlocked.
Xavier’s in the shower. I only kick off my boots before stepping inside and collapsing into him. He catches me in his arms and holds me as the tears start up again.
The spray hits my back as I cling to him. “What if something’s wrong with the baby?” I cry into his chest. “I can’t— The baby—” I claw at his back, desperate for something solid. “What if I— I’ve been doing all this hard work all week and what if—”
He pulls me against him tighter, pressing my cheek to his chest. “Shhhh. It’s going to be all right. Dr. Winthrop is the finest obstetrician in Cheyenne. She’ll be here soon and she’ll have answers. I won’t let anything happen to you, Precious. I swear.” He kisses the top of my head and then repeats in a rough, low voice, “I swear it.”
I nod against his chest, the terror that briefly cinched my lungs slowly releasing. Still, I can’t let go of him.
This is the Xavier I know and I need him right now more than ever. In command and control. When he says everything’s going to be okay in that tone of voice, it’s impossible not to believe him.
“Let’s get you out of these soaking clothes,” he murmurs.
I stand mutely while he peels off my shirt and tugs down my jeans. Soon the clothes are a soggy pile in the corner and we’re flesh to flesh. His cock is rock hard but he ignores it, twisting his hips to the side so that part of him doesn’t make contact as he briefly pulls me close again.
It feels like maybe he needs to hold me after going so long without contact. Or maybe I’m reading into it, because God knows that’s how I feel. I need to feel him real underneath my arms. Real and solid. I can’t handle him disappearing on me again. Especially now. But he doesn’t seem inclined to.
He pulls away briefly to pour shampoo into his hands but he tugs me close again as his fingers delve into my short hair. I close my eyes against the familiar sensation.
“I want the baby,” I whisper, trying the words out loud for the first time as he massages my scalp. “I actually want the baby.”
“Of course you do,” he murmurs. “And you’ll be the perfect mother.”
I melt against him. He really thinks that? Even though every time the topic of babies has ever been brought up all I can talk about is how much I don’t like them and how terrible I think they are?
He detaches the shower sprayer to get the shampoo out and then he’s on to the body wash. I can’t imagine ever being separated from him and going without this. The past four days have been terrible. Right now, his hands on me feel as necessary as breathing.
He washes my pussy with special care, his face reverent. He doesn’t tease or try to arouse me. His big fingers just separate my lips gently and then he turns the showerhead to a gentle mist as he cleanses me down there.
Then he reattaches the showerhead to the wall, fills his hand with his own body wash and starts to wash himself. His movements are rough, almost punishing.
“Let me.” I try to take the bottle he just put down but he stays me with a hand on my wrist. I want to give him some of the comfort he’s just given me. But with a gentle shake of his head and an expression I can’t read, he pulls my hand back.
“Just stand under the spray,” he says.
He goes back to his quick, rough strokes. He usually washes himself briskly, but this seems more curt than usual.
What was he doing locked up in here for the past four days? Obviously drinking himself into oblivion. But just over Holy Hellfire? Yes, he had affection for the horse. He loved him even. And maybe his bond with the horses goes deeper than I understand but locking himself up like that is not a normal reaction. It’s got to be about something deeper. Maybe connected to the demons that wake him up yelling in the middle of the night. How? I have no clue.
Because he doesn’t talk to me.
And he won’t let you touch him.
I wrap my arms over my abdomen, feeling cold in spite of the warmth of the shower spray. I might be having a child with this man, but how well do I really know him? So much has changed since I’ve come here—I’ve changed so much. And I like the person I’m becoming even if I don’t fully understand all the ramifications of who that person is yet. I feel as strong as ever, yet not as hard, if that makes sense.
But can this really work for the long term if he won’t fully share himself?
“Are you all right?” Xavier’s brows knit in concern and he steps closer, covered in suds from his intensive wash-down. He reaches out a hand to my upper arm. His touch is warm and I can’t help but lean into it.
Because as screwed up and emotionally unavailable as he might be, it’s too late.
I’ve fallen for him.
Hard.
“I’m okay. Here,” I step out of the spray to make way for him. “Wash off.”
He stares at me uncertainly for another moment, scrutinizing my face, but then acquiesces and begins to wash off the suds. He washed his hair before I came in, so it’s just a matter of quickly rinsing off and then we’re out of the shower and he’s toweling us down.
Once he’s got me dressed in a thick terrycloth robe, he lies on the bed beside me, brushing my hair back from my face.
He said I should take one of the pharmacy pregnancy tests he’s apparently stocked up on. In spite of all his assurances of their accuracy, though, I’d rather just wait for the doctor. If they say negative or positive, I’ll still be freaking out that I’m miscarrying based on the results. I can’t handle that shit right now.
So instead we’re just lying in bed with each other as we wait for the obstetrician. Xavier didn’t bother shaving and I have to say, I sort of like the five days’ scruff that’s almost a full beard on him. Makes him look dark and dangerous. Though it also highlights the burned streaks on the left side of his cheek where the hair won’t grow in. I imagine if the beard had more time to fill out, it might eventually hide them.
We’ve spent the last few minutes not talking. He’s just been lying there, staring at me. With anyone else, I imagine such a silence would feel supremely uncomfortable. With him, though, I just feel comforted and… not alone. He doesn’t shy away from me looking at him and I rarely get a chance to examine him up close like this.
His face is wide and broad like a boxer’s, but his wide mouth that stretches his whole face and deep brow balance it out. When he smiles, it’s dazzling and when he’s pensive, like now, you still can’t help but stare at his lips.
But I chance looking into his blue, crystalline eyes.
“Will you tell me what happened?”
He immediately glances away.
“Please? Don’t I have a right to know?”
His mouth tenses into a line and maybe that was a low blow but at the same time, I feel like it’s true. I do have a goddamned right. I might be the mother of his freaking child. He just put me
through hell for the past four days. And I need for him to start opening up to me.
He’s quiet for so long I think he’s not going to answer me.
But then, finally, with a hard swallow that makes his Adam’s apple bob up and down, he starts speaking. “I was in the Army. A lieutenant stationed at a detention facility at Bagram Air base.”
I’m only partially surprised he’s not bringing up Hellfire. Deep down, I knew this was about so much more than a favored horse.
He stares at the ceiling while he talks and each word seems like a struggle to get out. He has to take a deep breath before finishing. “Men under my command made a mistake that cost a lot of people their lives. It was something I could have prevented if I’d prepared them better.”
What he doesn’t say is clear on his face. He blames himself for the deaths of those people, whoever they were. I hesitate before asking my next question but I don’t know when he’ll be willing to talk so openly again.
“Is that when…?” I reach toward his face but withdraw my hand before he can push it away. “Is that when you got hurt?”
He nods.
I wait for him to give me anything more.
He takes another deep breath and opens his mouth, but just then, the doorbell rings.
He jumps to his feet like his ass is spring loaded.
“That’ll be the doctor.” He’s out the door before I can so much as blink.
Dammit. I sigh, sitting up. Well, I mean, I’m relieved the doctor is here, but God knows how long he’ll clam up now.
It’s only a minute later before Xavier is back, literally dragging the poor doctor into the room by her wrist.
It’s the same woman as before.
She looks both harassed and scared, eyes locked on Xavier’s hulking frame.
“Xavier,” I snap at him.
He looks down at me. In his other hand, he’s carrying a heavy, black, hard-covered suitcase that I imagine is some sort of equipment the doctor brought with her. He sets it down but still has hold of the doc.
“Let her go. You’re freaking her out. She’s here to help us and it’d be nice if she’s not peeing her pants.”
Xavier lets go of her and the doctor looks at me, eyes wide with surprise. As tense as I am about my situation, I can’t help but be amused by the way she’s looking between me and Xavier.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “Things have changed a little since you last saw me. Let’s get this show on the road. Do I need to pee in a cup or something?”
She nods, swinging a black bag off her shoulder. Her hands are shaking. I glare at Xavier but he looks unrepentant.
“Can I set this up?” he asks, fidgeting with the latches on the hard suitcase.
“Don’t touch that,” the doctor says, then her eyes widen and she quickly adds, “Please.”
I roll my eyes.
“Xavier, if you can’t stop scaring the nice lady, I’m going to send you to the other room.”
He levels me with a stare. “Try.”
I smile sweetly at him.
The doctor glances back and forth between us, then shoves a little plastic pee cup in my hand. “If you can just deposit your specimen into this, please, we can get some initial information. I brought the transvaginal ultrasound, but we’ll only do that if there seem to be any problems.”
“Oh goody,” I deadpan.
I take the pee cup and head to the bathroom. “Come with me, sweetie pie,” I call to Xavier. “Let’s let the nice doctor set up her machine without you freaking her the hell out and making her accidentally break something important.”
Xavier glares at her. “She better not.”
“Oh my God.” I get off the bed and grab his bulky upper arm, dragging him to the bathroom with me.
I drank two glasses of water after the shower in anticipation.
“Turn around,” I say to Xavier once he shuts the door.
He stares at me with an intensity that seems unwarranted for being about to pee into a cup. “You’re so goddamned feisty. If I weren’t so worried about you, I’d be fucking you into next week.”
I grin at him. I can’t believe he can still make my stomach flip even right now. I twirl my finger at him, mock glaring.
He gives me another hard stare but finally turns to face the door.
After a few tries, I manage to pee into the cup.
Xavier is immediately there with a towel to take it from me and hurry it out to the doctor while I wash my hands. After I do, I splash some water on my face.
Holy shit. How long does it take before we have a positive or negative? Will the doctor have to send it off to a lab?
I walk back out to the other room.
I’m surprised when I see my cup sitting on the nightstand with two little plastic sticks that look very similar to the ones from the store sitting beside the cup.
The doctor has gloves on and she’s looking at her phone. Xavier’s head is also bent, looking at the phone.
“What is it?” I come closer and see that it’s a timer. So it really is just like the at home tests. I’ll be damned. I stare at the timer with the same silent intensity.
Two minutes and twelve-seconds left. Eleven. Ten.
Commence with the slowest two minutes of my life.
At the end of which, the doctor checks the sticks only to look up at us and announce, “Congratulations, you’re going to be parents.”
Chapter 17
It’s another three weeks before we can hear the heartbeat.
Xavier’s called Dr. Winthrop about fifty times in the interim with all sorts of ridiculous questions. Should I be eating a special diet? How limited should my activities be? Should I, in fact, be on bed rest? That question came after a knock-down drag out fight between us when he tried to keep me in bed for two days straight after she left the first time.
Xavier had shown her the little bit of blood on my underwear and she’d calmly explained that light spotting happened in twenty to forty percent of first-trimester pregnancies and that, with such a small amount, it was nothing to be worried about. It most likely meant the fertilized egg was implanting in the uterine wall.
Xavier wasn’t impressed with most likely. He wanted her to do the ultrasound but she stood her ground and said she could, but it wouldn’t show much at this early stage and the wand might irritate the cervix and cause more bleeding.
That shut him up.
Instead, she just did a physical exam with her hands and determined that everything looked perfectly normal.
That didn’t stop Xavier from going crazy commando about my health right after she left and all but chaining me to the bed. When he found me wandering the resort looking for good books, he ordered me straight back to bed.
The first day I didn’t mind. I’d been working my ass off for a week. A day of R&R being pampered, resting in bed, and reading? Sign me up.
But it turns out that over the past two months I’ve gotten accustomed to being active. I only lasted half a day before I suited up and joined Xavier out in the stables.
Or rather, I tried to join Xavier.
He scooped me up and trotted me right back to bed.
Annoying, stubborn, mule of a man.
He turned the goddamned cameras back on me and threw a shit-fit if I got out of bed for more than a five-minute bathroom session.
Yeah, that lasted a whole half-day more before I’d wait until he got back out to the stable before getting up to go downstairs. He’d see me on the camera and come to drag me upstairs. Then he’d go out to the horses again… and repeat. Until finally a nice shouting match ensued and I finally got him to call the doctor and ask her opinion.
And ha! She said that regular activity was important at this stage in my pregnancy. As long as it wasn’t too strenuous. So no more lifting huge feed bags. Naturally Xavier wasn’t going to let me even carry water buckets. Or muck stalls.
Basically I was relegated to grooming duties.
Okay, so I couldn’t say I minded ab
out not having to muck the stalls anymore.
Plus, Xavier suddenly thought I needed all the sleep I could get.
So now I get to sleep in past sunrise. Miracle of miracles.
I feel lazy watching him doing all the hard work while I just basically hang out with Sugar and Hot Lips in the pasture or spend long hours watching him continue his training with Samson—which no longer seems boring.
I know, it shocked the hell out of me, too. But I keep wandering over to the front training paddock. The transformation of Samson is truly an amazing thing to behold. Over the past few days, Xavier has taken to tying a dark handkerchief over Samson’s eyes. His eyes. The horse is blinded by the handkerchief but he still confidently follows Xavier’s lead. Even when Xavier leads him out of the paddock and out into the unfamiliar field beyond.
Naturally, Xavier makes me go back to the stable and watch from afar for this part, but still, even as I squint, I can see that the horse never makes a misstep or falters under Xavier’s confident leadership.
Which makes me wonder more and more about the small tidbit of information he gave me the day we found out about the pregnancy.
Men under my command made a mistake that cost a lot of people their lives.
I’ve been dying to ask him more about it.
But with as tense as he’s been about the pregnancy, I can never seem to find a good time to bring it up. The only time he relaxes is with the horses. Even at night with his arm wrapped protectively around my stomach, he seems to radiate tension.
Twice I’ve had to wake him from nightmares. Both times I asked him if he wanted to talk about it. He simply grabbed me close and closed his eyes again, murmuring about me needing sleep.
The truth is, we’re both trying to act like everything’s all right, but I know we’re each nervous about the doctor’s visit. Sometimes over the past few weeks, I’ve caught Xavier pensive, face dark as he stares out across the pastures. It scares me how far away he seems, lost in some dark place. Whenever I call his name or get his attention, he pretends like everything’s fine and he wasn’t just a million miles away.
I’m glad when Dr. Winthrop arrives an hour earlier than expected, right after I manage to get down a few bites of toast—a feat for me. Morning sickness has just started being a bitch the last week. One morning I sat up in bed and immediately had to run to the toilet.
