“It’s bothering me! I want to know, Maddox. I’m not irresponsible anymore. Not like that. There were other reasons aside from you as to why I didn’t sleep with anyone else. I didn’t want to risk getting pregnant.” Thank fuck for that. She’s freaking out and upset.
I grab her shirt between my thumb and forefinger, pulling her closer. “Hey, it’s fine. We’re engaged this time. I’m not going anywhere. We were going all the way. Does the science behind it really matter?”
She looks up at me behind glossy eyes. “To me it does. I already lost one baby. I can’t go through that again.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her against me. “Gab, we’re adults. No one can take this from us.”
Riggan looks up from his cell phone, our eyes meeting. He knows it’s gutting me. Seeing her upset has always been my weak spot, but her upset about this is unbearable. He nods me over. “Come get yours. She’s not tattooing and you need the release. By the time we’re finished Sayler’s dad should be home. She called him. He agreed to check out her arm when he’s done at the hospital.”
“I’m not getting the tattoo without her,” I tell him, but then she pulls away from me, blinking away the tears that she’s yet to let fall.
“Please. I want you to. I want it on one of us for him. If I’m really pregnant it won’t be anytime soon for me.”
Yeah, telling her no isn’t going to happen. Grabbing the back collar of my shirt, I pull it over my head, leaving me in only work jeans and boots and a belt. Her eyes slowly skim down my front like she’s hungry, starting with my chest tattoos. “Stop looking at me like that or the bathroom is getting used for the very thing that made this test positive.”
She finally smiles again, just before I grab her hand and pull her toward the chair, stepping over it to straddle it backward. When I sit down, I leave enough room between me and the chair back for her to sit, nodding her toward it. She tries to pull back from the chair. “I can watch from here. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re not,” Riggan chimes in as he cleans a place on my left shoulder blade with solution and a paper towel, answering for me. “I’ll be at his back. I’m limited to torso since his upper arm sleeves are done. He won’t go lower than a shirt sleeve or up the neck because of his parents. Has to be able to cover it.”
My eyes never break from hers. She relaxes but doesn’t look amused. “You still let your parents’ opinions about things dictate what you want?”
“Don’t you?” I ask defensively. She knows it’s a sensitive subject for me. She rebels against her father at every turn, but that’s one thing I love about her. She’s headstrong and doesn’t conform to anyone else. She’s the greatest woman I’ve ever known. I care way too damn much what my parents think. They’ve raised me that way. Even Micah keeps his indiscretions under wraps so they don’t find out, and he’s a good bit older than me. I’m not going to go up against my parents anytime soon.
“No, asshole, I don’t. Do I still want my dad to be in my life? Yes. Will I bend to his will to have it or let it steer my decisions? No. I said yes when you presented me with a ring, did I not?”
One side of my mouth pulls up into a smirk. “Thank God.”
“It’s your body. Get it where you want. If anyone has a say in the matter, it’s your wife, and I happen to find your body sexy.”
I bite back a moan. Why is the word ‘wife’ such a damn turn-on? I thought that goal for my life was over. I pull her closer. “I’ll cross that bridge when I’m out of upper body room. I grab the back of one thigh, directing her in the position I want her in. “Sit down.”
She throws one leg over and straddles the tattoo chair, facing me. I pull her forward and drape her legs over my thighs, causing her back to fall against the chair, and then I lean in so close that our foreheads press together, finding a comfortable enough position that I can be close to her and move if I need to while being still enough for Riggan to tattoo.
Dark eyes bore into mine as Riggan puts the transfer on. Her hands start to move up my arms, starting at my wrists from where I have my hands stationed on her thighs. Her fingers glide over my triceps. It gives me chills. Her touching me always has. I never understood it; how she could affect every bodily system so effortlessly. She was the first and no other girl has done it since.
When her nails comb through the back of my hair, the tattoo gun starts up, a buzzing sound bouncing all around us. I prep my mind for the initial sting of the needle. After so long the area becomes numb in ways, but the first few runs always takes my breath away a little, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a tattoo—that day back in October when Konnor’s sister came in the tattoo shop looking for Riggan when he was on one of his Abby induced drug binges, which was thirteen months ago, and also the last time he ever did a hard drug. So much has changed since then. “I’m scared,” she says, just as the needle pierces my skin, taking my mind off of it. Scared is something Gabby rarely is.
Her warm breath kisses my lips. I rub my hands up her legs, following the bend of her body, until the tips of my fingers graze the front waistband of her jeans. I crawl over it, sliding a few of my fingers to the other side and lightly rub left to right. Her stomach draws in as I caress her skin. “Why?”
“What if he?”
I close my eyes, trying not to let my mind go there. I already have enough hatred for her dad. “I’ll be here this time. No one is making me leave and no one is taking you away from me. It’ll work out this time.”
“How can you be sure? My dad has ways of getting what he wants. He’s not going to be happy about this.”
“I may have been scared the first time, but I’m not scared now. He can bring all he’s fucking got, baby. I’m not walking away. I won’t back down.” I splay my palm against her stomach. “Everything that you are belongs to me. You’re mine. Just because we’re small doesn’t mean we can’t win. In the Bible, David defeated Goliath, right?”
Her eyes soften, just like I knew they would. Gabby was raised somewhere between Greek Orthodox and Catholic, because her mother was Catholic, but her father didn’t attend any church regularly. I can’t even remember how many times I’ve used stories from the Bible as an example for things going on. In my household, the only thing that kept you out of church was a visit from death or knocking on its door. You had to be contagious to the health of others to get a pass.
More times than not, our upbringing comes out whether we want it to or not, but she’s always seemed to like it when I do. I think it just proves that I’m attentive. Gabby has liked having my attention since the first night she got it. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you over the years.”
I can barely feel the scraping of the needle against my flesh with her this close. I remember the way she looked when I asked her to marry me. I think it was a confounding event for both of us, and a relief in many ways. “Yeah, I think I do,” I tell her, and then I lean in just an inch more, and kiss her.
Thirty-Eight
Gabby
We pull through a large, fancy, automatic iron gate in Maddox’s truck, following behind Riggan and Sayler in her car—Riggan driving, of course. It made me laugh to see them play bickering in the parking lot as we loaded up about who was going to drive, and one thing that holds true about a southern boy is he’s not going to be driven around by a female he’s dating.
I have to give her credit, though. She tried to stand her ground with the whole ‘it’s my car’ thing, but it’s hard to take her seriously with the adorable round belly attached to her torso, especially considering I was a freaking whale with Madden in the end compared to my small junior size when I got pregnant. I only lost the weight so fast after he was born because I was basically depressed.
Sayler is all belly. It’s exactly what I’d imagine Barbie like pregnant, while the rest of us girls in the world roll our eyes and bitch that we got the short end of the stick in the gene pool department. The puppy eye
s and pouty lip she gave him didn’t work on him either. If he’s not immune to her beauty—which I doubt—he has one hell of a poker face to avoid ever losing her. We girls do tend to work harder and stay put longer when we think we have to earn their attention. No one wants to be bored. Witnessing them together was like getting a rainbow after a storm of bad news. She showed up just as Riggan was covering Maddox’s tattoo.
I’ve stared out the passenger side window the entire drive, taking in more of Miami with every mile we gain. Just nothing to say. I think I’m still in shock. Trying to work things out in my head. Maddox kept my mind occupied during his tattoo between the chatting, the stares from him that have always melted me to liquid heat, and the kisses here and there. He was always good at that, but now, everything is catching up.
I would have never let Maddox come in me had I known there was a possibility I could get pregnant. Okay, before I’m judged, I know that the only way to truly avoid getting pregnant is abstinence. Everything else involves risk, and birth control does fail from time to time, but when it’s used like it’s supposed to be, it rarely does. Most failures result from user error and not product defect. One thing I did with age was wise up. I believe in learning from my mistakes to avoid repeating them—yet here I am.
With that, I never wanted to be on birth control. In the beginning, the thought of giving another guy something I gave Maddox was a turn-off for me so I didn’t need it, but realistically, I knew there was a chance when he walked away I’d lost him forever, and at some point I’d have to do it. After the hell I went through with my first accidental pregnancy, I knew I never wanted another one, so I didn’t argue when my father forced me on it.
Pregnant. What? It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t matter how many times I say it to myself either, because I can’t wrap my head around it. I want to cry my eyes out. I just got him back. We need an ‘us’ period. We need to actually experience being a real couple that does whatever the hell we want when we want before being strapped to a load of responsibility.
We aren’t ready for this. We have too much to figure out. I have no job and basically no insurance when it comes to this problem. My dad’s policy doesn’t cover dependent maternity—most don’t apparently. I found that out the first time. Everything came out of my dad’s pocket, and even if it did, the second I use it he’s going to see the benefit explanation come through the mail and it’ll tell him exactly where I am like a huge black X on a map.
Not to mention I have this unspoken fear of having other kids and one day our son coming to find us to see that we didn’t raise him but raised other children—his one hundred percent biological siblings. I would never want to hurt or anger him that way. He was worth keeping had I been given the choice. My dad is going to kill me. I’m giving him loaded ammo to tell me one more fuck-up I made. He loves rubbing that shit in my face.
My temple falls against the window, likely leaving an oil residue behind. I don’t care. I’ll clean it later. The truck comes to a stop, putting the massive house in my direct line of vision. It’s impressive, but I’m familiar with oversized houses compared to household size. I lived in one. People with money go bigger and more expensive more times than not, like it’s for some weird bragging right.
The palm trees catch my attention. They’re as common here as pines are in Mississippi. I do like it here. There is a certain vibe in coastal towns that you don’t get anywhere else, and the closer you get to the beach, the more you can smell the salt in the air and feel it in your hair.
Miami is such a vibrant and lively city, full of culture and nightlife I was excited to experience with the milestone of my twenty-first birthday. Maddox’s twenty-fifth is approaching. I’d even considered talking him into going to Cuba for the weekend at some point now that it’s open for safe travel after God only knows how many years due to their previous communist leader, which is something I’ve never understood—hating an entire group of people you don’t know personally.
Everything I’ve longed for with him since the day he left was at my fingertips. I was finally living. Happy. We were content to just be together, making up for lost time. It’s like fate stepped in and said no, you have to go back to the last place you were together and do it over again, only with a different baby.
Now what? A fucking disaster, that’s what. “Gab.”
The raw voice coming from the driver’s seat turns my head, alarming me. “Why are you really upset about this? We’re finally getting everything we ever wanted—each other. Now that the shock has worn off I’m fine, just like Riggan and Sayler both were after they found out, but you look like you’re walking in a nightmare. You’ve barely said anything since you looked up and saw me standing there with a test in your hand. Is the permanence of this with me making you have second thoughts about us getting married?”
Huh?
I blink at him, trying to figure out what I missed somewhere. He has that look on his face I’ve never liked. The one telling you something is bothering him. Every time he wears it, I’m taken back to that night at his school’s football game when he found out my age and tried to break up with me. If not for all the people there that night I would have cried.
It never occurred to me that my age would be a problem back then. I guess I was naive. We liked each other, were both teenagers, and was in a consensual relationship. How many years we’d been existing on the planet never crossed my mind. I’ll never forget that feeling of panic for as long as I live. I knew I had one shot to fix it. I had to remind him of the things that mattered, because Maddox is my everything. He always has been. It didn’t take me long to know he was the one I wanted to spend forever with, and that’s never changed. I’ll beat a girl’s ass before I let her take him. I’ve done it before. Maddox has the looks to draw girls in and the personality to hook them. Anyone that makes it to his perfect sized dick that he knows how to use isn’t leaving.
“Gab, a baby isn’t the end of the world unless . . .”
“What the hell are you talking about, Maddox?” I all but yell at him, my heart pounding like I’m anticipating and dreading a breakup speech at the same time. My nerves can’t take serious talks with him in trucks anymore. One too many bad memories are associated with it. “Why would I be having second thoughts about getting married?! Are you?”
“No! Don’t turn this around on me, Gabby. If I wasn’t sure this is what I wanted I wouldn’t have asked. I sure as fuck haven’t asked anyone else.”
“Well if I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have said yes! Where is this coming from?” I ask in a panic, my tone quickly escalating. “I swear on my life if you break up with me, I’m cutting your dick off. If I can’t have it no one will. Your man-whoring days are over. They ended the day I let the hookers in training leave the house alive. Next time you’re going to be helping me bury bodies. I own you just as much as you own me, asshole.”
Ah, shit. The corners of his mouth pull up slowly, transforming his mouth into a wide grin that makes me weak, and before I can blink, he’s coming over the center console and grabbing the back of my neck, our lips soon colliding in the middle of the truck. Our mouths lock and tussle like two wrestlers on the floor, lips tugging and shoving. With every taste of his tongue I want more. He’s always been the craving I can’t sate, no matter how much of him I take.
Heavy breathing sounds alongside the low country music playing on the radio. He groans when I suck the tip of his tongue, his hand immediately groping my breast. “I love you,” I tell him between kisses, my fist clenched around the back collar of his tee shirt. “It’s always been you.”
He pulls back enough to look me in the eyes, both of us breathing hard. “Why are you shutting me out the way you did when your Dad found out about us then?”
I look away, ashamed to even say it out loud. There are consequences in everything we feel, and once something is said you can’t take it back. He grips my chin and pulls me back to him, expecting an answer. We’re equally in love. We’re equally j
ealous. We’re equally controlling when it comes to something we want of the other. “I don’t want a baby.”
Our eyes are locked. “With me or at all?”
“Right now,” I answer honestly, and now that it’s out a tear rolls down my face, a blanket of anxiety weighing down on my chest. I shove away the guilt that’s trying to seep in my skin. “Having another baby this young is like giving Madden up in vain. I had to give him up because I was young. I love Sayler and Presley to death, but I don’t want to be them. They’re so young. Maybe that’s why me and Paxtyn hit it off so well. Our mindsets are closer to the same level. I want to be a normal twenty-one-year-old. We’re in Miami; a place known for its nightlife. I want to party with my fiancé on the weekends when you’re off. I want to take trips together. I’ve been living paycheck to paycheck so long that I want to be selfish for a little while and buy myself things if something catches my eye. That’s why I don’t mind getting a job. I’ve had one since summer after graduation. I may not know one hundred percent what I want to do yet, but I’d like to go to school, even if it’s just cosmetology school. If I went to the university, we could do fun stuff like tailgating and watching football games together. I want to be able to show you off in public and introduce you to new friends I make. I want to be just a couple for a while—that thing we never really got to do before because we had to sneak around. I don’t want people to think we’re getting married because you got me pregnant. I want to do things in order for once.”
He wipes the fat tear off my cheek. “We can still do all those things, Gab; maybe just not all the time.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to be that kind of mother. I’m all in or all out.” I break, covering my face with my hands, my emotions all over the place. “I’m not mentally prepared for this. I’m not ready. Just thinking about all of that is giving me anxiety. The getting fat. The feeling it move. The worry over the course of nine months that something bad could happen. The doctor visits. The memories. Childbirth. The stress of having it ripped out of my arms or it leaving the room and not coming back. The fear of not loving another child like I love our son. Losing you. All those things are in my head. So yeah, in ways, it’s sort of a nightmare.”
Finding Fate Page 29
