by Gia Riley
“You don’t get it,” she hisses. “Trey may be behind bars, but he’ll do whatever it takes to get his revenge however he sees fit. If I don’t end this now, he’ll end it for me. This is me telling him to fuck off. He doesn’t own me.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe,” Lane pleads. “I’ll spend every penny in my bank account to make you disappear from Trey’s radar.”
She stares at her swollen stomach, her hand rubbing circles around and around until her anger starts to fade away and tears leak from her eyes. The weight of her own guilt starts to crush her. “I wasn’t always clean, Lane. There’s a good chance I already ruined its life all on my own.”
“That’s why I need you to go back to the doctors, Lemon. They’ll keep you clean and get you on the right track.”
“What good will that do if this baby turns into Rusty? It has both of our fucked-up genes.”
“When the baby’s born, it’ll have the best medical care I can find. Your baby doesn’t have to suffer—neither of you have to suffer. I’ll give you a better life.”
The more Lane begs her to listen to him, the closer she lets him get to her. She’s close enough that he could grab the knife out of her hand if he tried, but he’s already gone a round with a blade, and I’m not about to let him lose to it twice.
Lemon’s chin quivers when she says, “I can’t be a mother to a baby I don’t even like. If it’s a boy, he’ll look just like Rusty. I can’t look into those eyes and feel anything but hate.”
I stand tall next to Lane, wanting her to see we’re not the enemy. “You have options. There are so many people in this world who would love your baby. So many who can’t have one of their own.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel like shit for not wanting one?”
“No,” I tell her. “It’s supposed to help you realize that just because you can have a baby, it doesn’t mean you should or that you have to. Life happens, Lemon. Really shitty things happen to good people—stuff that’s so out of their control, they have no choice but to succumb to it. Right now, you’re doing the best you can with what you have. Nobody faults you for that.”
“I did drugs. I’ve stolen things. I’ve danced naked in front of men for money. I’m not a good person. I’ll never be like you, Noelle.”
“The only person you have to be is who you are.”
She thinks about it for a second, trying to connect the dots inside her own head. I can tell she’s struggling when she finally says, “What if I’m not sure who I am?”
“Then we can figure it out together. You still have a lifetime to explore. Don’t make today your last.”
“And If I’m not sure I want to go beyond today?”
“I would tell you I believe you, because a person can only take so much before they crack down the middle. You’re broken, Lemon, but I promise you can be fixed.”
As I’m talking, I take a chance and run my hand down her arm until my fingers are covering her hand. I don’t try to take the knife from her; all I do is leave my hand there so she can choose to let go when she’s ready.
“I’m not sure there’s enough counseling in the world to save someone like me.”
“If you want this life, you’ll get it back. You’ll do the right thing.”
“What will happen to the baby?”
Without a moment of hesitation, I tell her, “I’ll take the baby.”
Lane’s been quiet, letting the two of us talk, but he steps closer, his eyes wild as they look back and forth between the two of us. “What are you saying?”
Lemon’s listening as closely as he is for an answer, hanging on my every word. But I didn’t plan this or expect those words to tumble from my lips. All I know is that I said it—and I meant it.
Still, a tear trickles down my cheek and I turn to Lane with my heart in my hands. “I’m saying I’m all in. We can raise this baby together, if that’s what she decides she wants. All I’m doing is offering.”
“What about me?” Lemon whispers. “What happens to me?”
Her words are spoken like a child half her age, desperate for the love she’s been denied her whole life. I refuse to let her drown for one more day. Today has to be the start of something new for all of us, because I don’t want this constant arguing and battling to become our forever. “History doesn’t have to repeat itself.”
“You’ll really take care of my baby?” Lemon asks, as the knife tumbles from her hand and falls to the floor.
I glance at Lane, wanting him to give me any kind of clue as to how he’s feeling. I realize I threw it out in the open without asking him, but I’d do it all over again if it meant that baby was safe and Lemon was happy.
With questions lingering behind his eyes, he tells Lemon, “We’ll make sure the baby is taken care of and loved. I promise.”
It’s not a lie, yet he’s careful with his words, not wanting to make promises he can’t keep. Whether we end up keeping the baby or not, it will be loved. It’ll be given a real chance at life without the world against it before it even opens its eyes or takes its first breath.
Lemon breaks down, falling to her knees on the cracked linoleum floor. “I’m so sorry for putting you both through hell. Please don’t hate me for what I’ve done.”
I hold her in my arms, wondering how we got here. How life got so complicated so fast. And how she ended up with a knife in her hand, convinced she could end it all and be done with this life. “We could never hate you, Lemon. Never.”
“You think I can really do this?”
Do I think she can stay clean and out of trouble? I do—if she takes the help we’re offering and agrees to start over fresh. She doesn’t have a chance in hell if she stays here with people who are determined to destroy her. “We can do this, Lemon. You’re not alone.”
Whether we end up raising her baby or if she ends up changing her mind and wants to do it herself, we’ll support her no matter what. That’s what family does.
After dropping Lemon off at The Behavioral Center, I talked the staff into letting Reed stay until tensions died down and we heard something about Rusty. She begged to let her stay with us long enough for her to get some sleep, but I couldn’t risk her leaving or something happening to her before we got her back where she belongs.
Noelle’s been passed out since we got off the turnpike, and I can barely keep my eyes open as I carry her into the elevator and lean against the wall for support. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since the tour, and my body’s pretty pissed off.
As soon as the elevator doors open, Dom’s standing there waiting to get on. “Lane? You’re just getting home?”
“It’s been a long-ass night.”
He sees Noelle’s bruises and cringes. “Is she okay?”
“She will be. I’ll tell you about it after I get some sleep.”
Dom nods, never one to pry for information.
I turn toward the condo but, like he forgot, he says, “Did you hear?”
After our night, I’m almost afraid to ask. “Hear what? I’ve heard all kinds of shit the last two days.”
He holds up the newspaper in his hands and I’m positive we’re front page news this morning, too. “They figured out who fucked with our last show. Some guy named Travers.”
My arms almost give out, but Dom’s right there, making sure Noelle gets inside without me dropping her. I follow him, shocked even though nothing concerning Rusty should surprise me anymore. “What else did you hear?”
“Just that he wasn’t working alone. They’re charging him, but his ass is already in jail for something else. Go figure.”
“Yeah.” I’m glad they’re nailing him on multiple charges, mostly because that means he’ll be out of our lives longer, but it eats away at me that he’s been trying to hit me where it hurts for longer than I thought.
“Go get some sleep, Lane. You look like shit.”
“I plan on it.” I do need to sleep, but now all I can think about is how clos
e they were to taking Noelle down that night. It also means tonight wasn’t the first time Rusty got to her. I don’t know which makes me sicker—the fact that they’ve been watching us so closely for weeks, or the fact that we’ve managed to dodge fate twice.
I’m hunched over the island, trying to calm myself down before I go to bed when two hands as cold as ice slip under the hem of my shirt and press against my warm skin.
As I turn around, she moves them to my stomach, her fingertips tickling the ridges of my abs. “What are you doing up? You should be asleep.”
“I woke up and the bed was empty. And I can’t get warm.”
“Come on.”
I take her hand and lead her back to the bedroom where I help her out of her clothes. She shivers and folds her arms across her body for warmth. As much as I want to keep her naked, I grab one of my sweatshirts and slip it over her head. It easily falls to her knees and the sleeves hang past her fingertips, but she smiles once it’s on her. Sniffing the fabric, she says, “It smells like you.”
I rub my hands up and down her arms, hoping she’s already a little warmer. “Better?”
She nods and cuddles against my chest. I hold her as close as I can get her, thanking God she’s still with me. But every time I close my eyes, it’s like I’m watching a movie in fast forward. A million different scenarios about what could have happened to her flash before my eyes, pissing me off all over again.
Even though her neck’s sore, she tilts her head back and looks up at me. “Whatever you’re thinking, Lane, it’s not your fault.”
“Let’s get in bed.”
She follows me but is cautious when she lies down beside me. “Are you mad at me?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad?”
“Something’s wrong. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing’s wrong, baby. Don’t get me wrong, we still have a lot of shit to figure out, but did you mean what you said about the baby in the trailer?”
She narrows her eyes, no doubt trying to remember everything she said. While it’s harder for her to pinpoint which specific thing I’m talking about, I can still hear her saying the words like it happened two seconds ago instead of two hours ago. “Which part?”
“That you want the baby. Did you mean that?”
She swallows and hesitates long enough that I start to think she was just saying whatever she could so Lemon would put the knife down. But as soon as she looks at me, I see the truth reflecting in her eyes, plain as day. She wants the baby.
“You heard her, Lane. She can’t be a mother to the baby, and we can’t expect her to love someone else when she doesn’t even love herself. It’s going to take time to get her life back on track, and that baby will need someone’s absolute best long before that.”
I couldn’t agree with her more. It doesn’t change the fact that Lemon’s still the one calling the shots, no matter how much we agree with what she wants. Ultimately, it’s her decision to make—and her prerogative to change her mind ten times before she does. “What if she changes her mind and wants to keep it? Can you handle that?”
“I’d be lying if I said any of this was easy for me, especially since I can’t ever have a baby of my own, but I’d never use her to get what I want. So, if she changes her mind, then we’ll still help her as much as we can or as much as she’ll let us. We’ll be an amazing aunt and uncle and make sure the baby never wants for a single thing—including love.”
“And if she sticks to her story and wants us to, you can handle it?”
She blinks slowly, biting her lip as her chin quivers. “I’d be a mother, Lane.”
Before a single tear falls, I grab her. “You’ll be the best mom, Noelle. Just like all the ones I wished I had. You’ve already been an incredible sister to Lemon without even trying.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Every damn word, baby.” Her body’s still sore, and her mouth might sting, but I need her. I need to be consumed because tonight, I’m on the verge of falling off the edge of a cliff; the regret that’s building up inside of me is so strong, her body is the only force powerful enough to keep me standing. She’s my relief.
“If we do become parents, I’d never keep Lemon a secret. This baby will know my love and hers.”
“I know, baby. I know you mean it.”
“Do you promise you want this to? That you’re not just agreeing to make me happy?”
“Noelle, if I am meant to be a father, I can’t think of a better person to be a dad to than my niece or nephew.”
“Okay.”
“Baby, we don’t have to decide anything tonight one way or the other. All I want to do is cuddle the fuck out of you and get some sleep. After we wake up, we’ll start figuring out the rest.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Just rest.”
She lays her head down and whispers, “I love you.” Seconds later, she’s snoring softly in my arms, completely exhausted.
“I love you, too.”
Eight weeks later . . .
“Lane, hurry up! Trim the nose hair later.”
He walks out of the bathroom, laughing as usual. “I was brushing my teeth. Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Not at all. Left side.”
He walks over to me with that look in his eyes that tells me I have no right to complain. I suppose I don’t. “You do realize why I was brushing my teeth, right?”
“You’re the one who wanted to save water and shower together. I can’t help you ended up on your knees again.” He sucks on my neck, making my back arch and my boobs press against his chest. I’m so damn easy it’s pathetic.
“You weren’t complaining when you were marking up my back with your nails and rattling off every swear word ever invented.”
I bite his bottom lip, just enough to make him groan, but not hurt him. “What can I say? Your mouth deserves a medal, Lane.”
“Good. Now that you’re nice and relaxed, are you ready for this?”
“I’m ready,” I say with a sigh against his cheek. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to find out if we’re having a little boy or a little girl. It feels wrong to want one gender over the other or to have a preference at all, so I’ve tried not to imagine pink or blue in my arms. I just see a bald-headed baby like that little shit, Caillou, I saw on TV the other day.
He tugs on my arm, laughing when I don’t move. “Come on.”
I follow Lane, and with each step I take, I’m reminded it’s another closer to becoming a mother. For years, I thought this dream was gone, but ever since Lemon signed the papers to allow us to be present for all her medical appointments, this journey has been real. So real I catch myself pinching my arms to make sure I’m really awake.
Lane links our fingers as the elevator doors open and close. “You look pretty today. I like this color yellow on you.”
I smile because he’s being extra sweet when in reality I’m laughing on the inside. “Just don’t crash the car. All my nice underwear’s in the wash. I’d die if they had to cut this pair off me.”
“I love the way you get extra inappropriate when you’re nervous.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him as he leads us toward the parking garage. I’m a damn mess today. I thought riding his face in the shower for fifteen minutes would calm me down, but now every time I look at him all I picture is his head between my thighs.
That mouth.
That tongue.
I have to stop. Think about vaginas and babies.
I concentrate so hard, we both end up being pretty quiet for most of the drive. When I do glance at him from behind my sunglasses, the worry line between his brows gives him away. “What’s wrong, Lane?”
I wait for him to tell me he’s having second thoughts or, worst-case scenario, that something’s wrong with Lemon or the baby, but he doesn’t say those things. He doesn’t say anything at all.
Finally, as we’re pulling into a parking spo
t, he shuts the car off and walks around to my side of the car. Like a gentleman, he opens my door and helps me out. Before he can get away from me, I tug on his hand and stop him. “What is it?”
He rolls his eyes and says, “I’m not trying to start an argument or anything, but can you let Lemon pee in the little plastic cup by herself this time?”
“My peeing bothers you enough to silence you for five miles?”
“Noelle, I really don’t want to go in there with you upset. This is supposed to be a happy day for us. I even wore yellow so you wouldn’t accuse me of pulling for a little boy.”
Laughing, I tell him, “I’m not mad at you. I’m just sorry I embarrass you so much when I was only trying to be Lemon’s moral support. It’s not easy to hover and pee, you know.”
“I didn’t say it was, especially when you have a belly sticking out. It’s just that the nurses wouldn’t think you’re so crazy if you could pee in the toilet like a normal human being.”
“Since when do you care what people think about me? I thought you loved me because I’m me.”
“Since you became mine, Noelle. I want them to see how amazing you are—and for them to see what I see when I look at you. Your quirks and rough edges are fun, but there’s so much more to you than your wild sense of humor.”
I lean in and give him a kiss. “You, my friend, just earned yourself a blowie.”
He tips his head back and mumbles, “Jesus, Noelle.”
“Come on, lover. We have a little one to see.” When he doesn’t budge, I tell him, “I won’t pee in the cup.”
“Thank you.”
“I wouldn’t want my big, bad rock star to get embarrassed.”
“Noelle,” he warns, the way I love so much. It usually ends up with me bent over and him slapping my ass.
“As soon as we get home,” I say in a rush before pulling him inside the lobby.
“What?” he whispers, but I can’t even look at him right now. Not when I want him to touch me.
Thankfully, the nurse is waiting for us and takes us right to Lemon’s room, where she’s already lying down on the exam table for her ultrasound. We’ve been in this office plenty of times, but never for something as exciting as this.