Kenny (Shifter Football League Book 2)

by Becca Fanning

  After a few minutes, Sam stood up and walked out of the bathroom. Thankfully, Randy was nowhere in sight and her desk was empty. Almost time for lunch, she told herself. So at least there’s that. Maybe I can treat myself today, get some Chinese food or something. Yeah, Chinese, I haven’t had that in—

  Sam jerked her head up as the front door to the Langdon Center opened. A tall, muscular man strode in. He had thick brown hair, tanned skin, and golden-amber eyes. There was a cleft in his chin and his sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows, like he’d just come from working outside.

  Sam stood up, flushing at her quick response to the man. “May I help you?”

  “Yeah,” the man said. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was impossible not to notice how brawny he was. “I need to speak with you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said. She looked away. “What can I do for you?”

  “It’s personal, nothing to do with this place.”

  “Um, I’m sorry.” She looked back at the stranger and a weird little thrill went rippling through her body. “I’m not interested.” She blushed. “I mean, I’m not dating right now.”

  The man frowned. “I’m not asking you out.” He exhaled loudly. “I just need to speak with you.” He leaned over and Samantha jumped. When she realized he was reading her nametag, she blushed again. “You are Samantha Cardiff, right?”

  She frowned. “Am I in some kind of trouble?” Panicked thoughts began to run through her head – what if this guy is some kind of bounty hunter? Or a killer?

  “No, nothing like that.” The man swallowed loudly. “Please,” he added in a softer voice. “This is really important.”

  Samantha pursed her lips. “Okay,” she said. Shit! Why did I just agree? Who the heck IS this guy?

  The man seemed relieved. “Thank you,” he said. Samantha could tell that he was genuine. He handed her a slip of paper with a crudely written address. The handwriting was like a child’s – shaky and uneven. “This is a café a couple of blocks away,” the man said. “Can you meet me there in half an hour?”

  Samantha looked over her shoulder at Randy’s cubicle. It was empty.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”

  The man turned heel and loped out of the office with an awkward, clumsy kind of grace. Samantha couldn’t shake the weird feeling in her stomach – who was that guy? She shivered, even though the office wasn’t air-conditioned and it was the middle of summer. Sam couldn’t remember the last time she’d met someone so intense.

  Twenty minutes later, Samantha sat sweating under the outdoor awning of The Corner Café. Her brow and the back of her neck were damp and she reached into her bag for a handkerchief, wiping the exposed skin. Her stomach was doing flip-flops – when the waiter arrived, she ordered an iced chamomile tea with mint and honey.

  “Anything else?”

  Sam swallowed and shook her head. “Not just yet,” she said. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  When the man walked up a few minutes later, Samantha couldn’t tell if she was relieved or even more scared. He bowed his head to her and then lowered himself heavily into the dainty wicker chair.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” he said gruffly. “My name’s Rust. Rust Mondale.” He wiped the sweat off his brow and poured himself a glass of water from the carafe in the middle of the table.

  “I’m Samantha Cardiff. Well, Sam, really, but no one calls me that anymore.” She looked into his eyes. Despite the heat of the day, a chill ran down her spine. “But I have a feeling you already knew that.”

  Rust nodded. “I did,” he said. His voice was oddly formal, polite. “So, I’m sorry to ambush you like that. You were probably scared.”

  Sam gave a quick jerk of her head. “What is all of this about?”

  Rust sighed. “Wouldn’t you like to order first? Relax a little bit?”

  Sam shook her head again. “No,” she said. “I’d rather just figure out what all of this is about, if you don’t mind.”

  Rust sighed. He was fidgeting – Sam could tell he was playing with his hands under the table, flexing and cracking his knuckles. “Alright,” Rust said. He cleared his throat. “I was part of a research project, at Dodson University.”

  Samantha’s face went white. “That was the school in Erie,” she said. “I used to live there,” she added. “I just moved here….”

  Rust nodded. “Right,” he said. “Uhh, sorry, I don’t like drawing attention to it. Err, myself. What I am. Umm.” He looked off to the right and bit down on his lip. “I’m a Bear Shifter and I donated sperm as part of this project. It was at a lab. Speculon Laboratory. They’re a big national company,” he added, spreading his hands wide in the air. “It was supposed to be for research.” He paused. ”It wasn’t supposed to be used for implantation.”

  Samantha stared at him. “What are you saying?”

  Rust closed his eyes. “My sperm wasn’t supposed to be used for implantation. But it was. For you.”

  Tears welled up in Samantha’s eyes and her chin quivered. As the waiter darted between herself and Rust to place a sweating glass of iced tea on the table, she barely even noticed. Was my baby sick because of what he is?!

  “What are you doing here?” When she spoke, her voice was like metal. “Why are you telling me this?” She felt her expression twist into an angry scowl. “How the hell did you find out that it was me?”

  “We were summoned by a lawyer,” Rust said. “Me and the other four guys who were involved. There were a total of five accidents.” He cleared his throat. “Not accidents. Shit, I’m sorry. The other guys, my brothers, well, they all have kids now. And I know that your…our child was stillborn.”

  Samantha covered her mouth with her hands. “And they just told you my name?” Her voice became shrill. “What about doctor-patient confidentiality? What about HIPAA?” She was horrified. This scene was like something from her wildest nightmares, and she’d never felt so betrayed. I want to find that asshole who gave him my name and sue him within an inch of his life, she thought angrily. So much for privacy! You can’t trust anyone nowadays!

  Rust shrugged. “I didn’t expect them to give me your name,” he replied. “But I asked. And then they gave me your information. Everyone involved understood how unusual this situation was. I wanted to talk to you,” he added.

  Samantha’s shoulders sagged. A tear spilled down her cheek and she stood up abruptly from the table, spilling the iced tea. As it leaked onto her white slacks, she didn’t even feel it.

  “I have to go,” Samantha said hurriedly. “Don’t contact me again,” she added sharply. She took a couple of steps backwards and then broke into a run. When she was a few feet away from the café, the sobs began in earnest.

  I hate him, Samantha vowed in her head, closing her eyes as the hot tears leaked down onto her hotter cheeks. I hate him! How dare he! How dare he find me and try to make me feel bad for what happened! And I hate those doctors, too! And that stupid laboratory!

  As Samantha ran down the street, it didn’t even occur to her to go back to work. Instead, she ran into the parking garage and climbed behind the wheel of her sub-compact car. The air inside was hot and still and for a moment, Sam closed her eyes and let herself be cocooned. Then she burst into sobs. Burying her face in her hands, she closed her eyes. Sam hated thinking of that horrible day, but she could feel the memory coming on like one of her panic attacks.

  “I can’t believe it,” Samantha said. She gazed down at her giant belly, cradling it with her hands.

  “Believe it, baby.” Trevor leaned over and kissed her on the lips. As usual, Sam felt a tingle of excitement between her legs. Every time Trevor touched her, she felt so happy.

  “I don’t deserve this,” Sam said. She smiled at her fiancé, kissing him again. This time, the kiss grew more passionate. By the time Trevor pulled away, Sam was practically panting with lust.

  “Easy,” Trevor said with a grin. He winked at her and pu
t his hand on her knee. Backing the SUV out of the driveway, he turned onto the road and began to speed up. “My parents are looking forward to seeing you, Sam. It’s been five months.” He laughed. “You didn’t even look pregnant the last time.”

  “And now I’m huge,” Samantha said, peering down at her distended stomach. “Trevor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You think your parents will ever come around?”

  Trevor frowned. “I hope so,” he muttered. “They were pretty unreasonable at first.”

  An awkward silence fell over the car. Samantha and Trevor had been college sweethearts. After he’d asked her to marry him, they’d both gone to the doctor. Sam was eager to start raising a family, and at twenty-eight, she felt like she was the perfect age. She had a degree, a job, and a house – not to mention a charming and gorgeous fiancé.

  “I’m sorry,” Sam said suddenly. “I’m sorry that it couldn’t be yours.” She pulled Trevor’s hand over and rested it on her belly.

  “I know, babe,” Trevor said soothingly. “But it’s not like I’m not going to love our kid. I know he’s gonna be perfect.”

  Sam swallowed. “ I can’t help but feel anxious sometimes,” she said softly.

  “Relax,” Trevor replied. He patted her belly once more and returned his hand to the wheel, guiding the SUV with ease. “Everything’s gonna be fine. As soon as they see their grandkid, they’re gonna be overjoyed.”

  Samantha bit her lip. She didn’t tell Trevor what his mother had said on their last visit – that if Samantha had really loved her son, she would have found a way to make him fertile. She knew that it was bullshit, but it had stung all the same. She’d cried afterwards, feeling like she’d given up by visiting the sperm bank.

  But two hours later, Samantha’s nerves were more frayed than ever before. Trevor’s mother, Angela, was ignoring her and his father, Bruce, was acting like he’d never met Samantha. Gone was the warm older couple who had welcomed Sam into their home. Now, Angela and Bruce were like strangers. And worst of all, Trevor wasn’t doing anything about it! Samantha’s eyes filled with tears as she sat apart from the group, watching Trevor chat with his mother and father like she wasn’t even there.

  “Excuse me,” Sam said. “I have to run to the bathroom.”

  No one looked at her as she stood up and waddled into the house. She was almost nine months pregnant, and couldn’t wait to be back to her own size again. Carrying her son around in her belly had long since lost the novelty, and she was eagerly looking forward to meeting him face to face.

  In the bathroom, Samantha slid her jumper down and sat heavily on the toilet seat. The porcelain groaned with her added weight and she cringed. There was a dull ache in her lower belly, almost pressure, like she had to pee. But when she relaxed her muscles, nothing happened. Instead, the pain became sharper.

  Samantha gasped. “Trevor,” she croaked. “Help!” Forgetting that he wasn’t even in the house, Samantha gasped and stumbled. She yanked up her jumper and barely managed to get the door open before falling onto her hands and knees. Pain shot through her body. This wasn’t normal pain, the kind of pain that comes from an accident. Samantha could tell that something was wrong, and she’d begun to sweat so heavily that she smelled hot iron.

  “Trevor!” Samantha screamed. “Help!” Then everything went black.

  When Samantha woke up, she was in a starchy white hospital bed. Everything around her was white – the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Her head ached and as her vision came into focus, she saw Trevor sitting in a chair by the bedside.

  “Trevor,” Samantha squeaked. “What happened?”

  Trevor wouldn’t look at her. His face was buried in his hands. “You lost the baby,” he said.

  “What?” Samantha looked down at her body in horror. Her belly was still huge, dominating the small bed, but she could tell something was wrong. She felt differently, like something was missing. Tears welled up in her eyes and a lump began to form in her throat. “What happened?”

  Just then, a doctor in a white coat came in. He wasn’t smiling. “Ms. Cardiff?”

  Samantha nodded. “Yes, that’s me.”

  The doctor lowered himself into a plastic chair by the bedside. “Ms. Cardiff, why didn’t you come in when you stopped feeling movement?”

  She stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He frowned. “Your fiancé has told me that you mentioned there was no movement – the baby wasn’t moving – for a few days now.”

  Samantha shook her head. “That’s not true!” She cried hotly. “I mean,” she sniffled. “You told me that there wouldn’t be as much movement going forward!” She balled her hands into fists at her sides. “You told me that as soon as the baby shifted, he wouldn’t be moving much. You said there wasn’t any room!”

  “I said he wouldn’t be moving much, not that he’d stop moving all together.” The doctor frowned again. “You really should have come in sooner.”

  “Are you….” Samantha gulped. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

  “No one’s saying anything,” the doctor replied in a calm voice. “I’m just asking questions.”

  “And what happened?” Samantha struggled to sit up but her whole body ached. Her face hurt, her hands hurt, even her hair hurt. “What happened to my son?”

  “We had to induce labor,” the doctor said. He glanced down. “It was an intrauterine fetal death.”

  Chapter Two

  When Sam had managed to stop crying, she took a deep breath and called her boss, Randy. She explained that she was feeling really ill and that she’d have to go home for the rest of the day. Randy agreed, and even though Sam could sense he wasn’t pleased with her, she felt immensely relieved that she wouldn’t have to return to work. She drove along the streets, not yet wanting to return to her empty house, and again her thoughts drifted back towards that dark time, two years ago.

  It had been over with Trevor almost immediately. They hadn’t broken up, but Samantha felt an ever-present chill in the air. She knew that it was only a matter of time before he was gone. In the end, he hadn’t left. He’d stayed at home for weeks at a time, mourning and eating ice cream all day long on the couch. He’d grown plump in an alarmingly short amount of time, and one day Samantha realized that she no longer recognized the chubby, hairy man sitting on the sofa. The pain she’d felt inside was so immense that she was afraid to open her mouth in fear that everything would come rushing out at once.

  After six months had passed with no hint of intimacy between them, Samantha came home from work and placed her ring on the coffee table.

  “Trevor, I don’t think this is right anymore,” she said softly. “I know you can’t forgive me for what happened, but we both need to move on.”

  Trevor stared silently ahead. As Samantha looked into his face, she saw no trace of the man she’d once loved.

  “Trevor,” Samantha’s voice cracked as she spoke and she covered her face with her hands. “Trevor, please. Tell me you love me, tell me you want to keep trying. Anything! Something!”

  Trevor kept staring as though he didn’t even register Samantha’s presence.

  “I’m leaving,” Samantha said in a shaky voice. She walked upstairs and packed a small bag, expecting Trevor to come after her at any moment and pull her into his arms, stroke her hair, tell her that he was sorry and that he loved her more than words could say.

  But it never happened. She made it outside before the sobs started, and as she drove away, she never even looked back.

  Samantha shook her head, sending her long black hair flying. Even now, two years later, the hurt came back so sharply that she felt like she’d been stabbed in the chest. She’d never expected anything to hurt this much.