Jack Hammer

by Tabatha Vargo

  He stumbled back, but his eyes never left mine.

  “What?” he choked. His voice was broken and rough. “What are you talking about, Chelsey? What baby?”

  “Our baby. The baby we created,” I said softly. I gripped my shirt over my belly, my fingers digging into the fabric until I felt it beginning to tear. “The baby you abandoned because of your stupid pride,” I spat.

  Tears rushed down my face, and I couldn’t stop them. I didn’t want to stop them. I needed to feel everything I’d pretended not to feel. I needed to grieve.

  “You were pregnant?” His eyes were pleading, filling with moisture as my news settled over him.

  “Yes. I was pregnant, Blaine. I was pregnant and you left me alone. You left because you were too fucking stubborn to talk to me.”

  “Tell me,” he demanded, his voice broke with emotion. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I told you enough.”

  The hurtful words I’d said to him came rushing back to me.

  “No.” He took a step toward me. “Tell me.”

  I nodded, understanding he wanted the full story. It was going to hurt, but he deserved to know. After all, it was his baby, too.

  “I found out I was pregnant two months after you left. I was depressed. You were gone. I couldn’t eat or sleep. I couldn’t function. I just sat in my room by my window and waited for you to come back.” I looked up and my eyes found his. “But you never came, Blaine.” I swiped at a tear that tickled my chin. “I couldn’t stop throwing up, and I was losing weight. My parents were starting to worry. I went to the doctor, and she told me I was twelve weeks along but I hid it from my parents. The doctor said the baby was growing like it should, but I was undernourished and sleep deprived. She said if I didn’t take better care of myself I could lose the baby.”

  I was looking at Blaine, but I wasn’t seeing him. All I could see was the nightmare that had become my life during those months after he’d left.

  “I tried, Blaine,” I continued. “I really tried to snap out of it for our baby. I forced myself to eat, but I’d only throw it up later. I tried to sleep, but all I could see was your face in my dreams. I was so weak, and I hated you, but mostly I hated myself for not being strong enough to take care of my baby. My screams are what woke my parents up the night it happened. They found me in the bathroom lying in a puddle of blood. Everything hurt so much, the pain was unbearable. I just kept screaming your name over and over again.”

  Blaine’s arm came around me, and I let him hold me as my body shook with tears.

  “My parents rushed me to the emergency room where they told me I’d miscarried. I was in the hospital for weeks afterward to be treated for depression, anxiety, and panic attacks. You name the psychological issue, and I had it. I was a mess. They put me on medication and sent me home with my parents. Their solution to getting me better was to sweep everything under the rug and focus on what was most important to them—school, Columbia, and their reputation—that was all that mattered.”

  I stopped to take a breath, and Blaine used his thumb to wipe away my tears.

  “I took the meds and numbed the pain, but when I started Columbia I stopped taking them. I had a ton to focus on and I thought I was better. When I saw you at the club, I ignored all the memories you stirred, hiding them away like I was used to, but the more time we started spending together, the harder it became to ignore. I snapped the other night at your going away party, and I can’t seem to hold myself together anymore.”

  “The baby,” he said, understanding. “When I was holding Bobby’s little baby.”

  “Yes.”

  Neither of us said anything more, and I wasn’t really sure what was left to say. There were no words to change or erase the past or undo what was done.

  His body was stiff. Something changed inside of Blaine, and I was afraid that maybe I’d broken him.

  “Let me take you home, Chelsey. Please don’t fight me anymore.”

  My alcohol induced state had worn off, and with everything I’d just told Blaine, I was emotionally and physically drained. I couldn’t fight him if I tried.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “Take me home, Blaine.”

  42

  BLAINE

  THE RIDE BACK TO CHELSEY’S PLACE WAS A BLUR.

  My brain was scattered, my heart bleeding, and I couldn’t focus. I really had no business on the road. I couldn’t even remember paying attention to the road once we pulled up to her apartment building. Unclenching my fingers from the steering wheel, I looked over at Chelsey.

  She was curled up on the seat, her body using the door as support, and I couldn’t tell if she was asleep or awake. She looked so small and fragile, but I knew on the inside she was stronger than she was giving herself credit for.

  Everything was different—she was different—the way I saw her was altered. She wasn’t just the girl I’d fallen in love with anymore. She was the girl I’d broken. The girl I’d been too fucking stupid to protect. She’d carried a piece of me inside her, and I’d failed to take care of her.

  My eyes lingered on her, before moving over her stomach. An ache, much worse than anything I’d felt in my life, moved into my chest. I couldn’t breathe. It was like losing my parents and Chelsey all over again.

  I put my hand on her arm, and she jumped, grabbing the door handle. I didn’t move, afraid I’d freak her out more. When she turned toward me, her eyes found mine in the dark. She focused, and I knew she was pushing away sleep. She needed to rest. She needed to sleep off the night and start tomorrow with a clear head.

  “Give me your keys and stay here,” I ordered, holding out my hand. It took her a minute, but finally she pulled her keys from her pocket and dropped them in my palm. “Don’t move.”

  I got out of the car, and went and unlocked her apartment door. When I came back to the car, I was happy to see she’d listened and was sitting there waiting for me. Going around to her side, I opened her car door. Bending over, I scooped her into my arms and lifted her from the car. I held her tightly against me, afraid I was going to lose her at any moment.

  Once inside her apartment, I kicked the door closed and took Chelsey straight to her bedroom.

  I stopped beside her bed and looked her in the eye. “Can you stand if I put you down?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I could’ve walked inside.”

  I ignored her, setting her down gently. I looked down at her, the top of her head barely reaching my shoulder. She was half my size, so small, so delicate. Again, I closed my eyes against the pain of knowing I’d left her when she needed me.

  My fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt and lifted, the backs of my fingers moving along her soft skin. I expected her to fight me, but she didn’t. She lifted her arms, and I pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the side.

  The button of her jeans came undone easily under the pressure of my fingers, and I knelt as I pulled them down her legs.

  “Hold on to me,” I said, prompting her to press her hands into my shoulders.

  She tugged one leg from her jeans, and then the other, freeing herself and standing before me in only her panties and bra.

  I stood, tossing her jeans to the side, too. I felt something hit my foot, and when I looked down, there was a piece of folded paper lying there. Frowning, I bent and picked it up. Chelsey didn’t react as I started to open it. Her eyes were empty, her expression stiff with sadness.

  Unfolding the paper, my eyes moved over the picture and my world crumbled. I stared down at the proof of what Chelsey and I created with our love—what I’d destroyed with my pride. I swiped over the tiny print with my thumb as the reality of the situation threatened to suffocate me.

  I wanted to grieve over the loss—cry to the heavens—beg for forgiveness, but Chelsey needed me. Even though I was broken in two, I longed to comfort her the way I should’ve months ago. The way I should’ve the night she bled on her bathroom floor and cried for me.

  Cupping h
er cheeks, I lifted her face to mine. Her chin trembled and a fresh wave of tears wet her cheeks. Using my thumbs, I wiped them away and she closed her eyes to my touch. I leaned down, pressing a kiss to each eyelid, before placing soft kisses all over her face. Her hands gripped the sides of my shirt and she leaned into me.

  “It hurts, Blaine. It hurts so much.” Her voice broke, ripping through my soul.

  “Let me take the hurt away. Let me make you feel better the way I should’ve when you needed me. Please?”

  She nodded without opening her eyes.

  “Look at me, baby. I need to see those big, brown eyes on me.”

  She took deep breath and her chest pressed into mine. When she exhaled, she opened her eyes and looked into mine. She was so fucking beautiful. I had to fight to breathe.

  Pressing my lips against hers, I kissed her softly. I didn’t deepen the kiss, I just wanted to feel the softness of her lips, to taste the sweetness that was Chelsey.

  Pushing her back against the bed, I laid her down gently. With one knee between her thighs, I hovered above her. Even after everything that happened, trust reflected in her eyes—trust I wasn’t sure I deserved—trust I’d do anything to keep.

  Leaning over, I brushed my lips across her stomach, silently wishing I could take her pain into myself. Her body quivered, and her fists gripped the blanket, bunching it in her fingers.

  “I’m so sorry for all the pain I cause you, Chelsey. I’m sorry I hurt you,” I whispered the words against her belly. “I’m so sorry, little one.”

  And even though I tried to hold them back for Chelsey’s sake, warm tears moved down my cheeks as I apologized to the baby we’d never know.

  “Blaine,” she whispered, losing her fingers in my hair. “Please.”

  I placed a kiss beside her navel and moved to lay on top of her. Bracing my arms on either side of her head, I looked down into her face. Fresh tears fell down the sides of her face, soaking into her hair. She reached up, and wiped my tears away.

  “I love you, Chelsey,” I confessed, catching her tears with my lips. “I love you so much. Please don’t hate me.”

  I hated myself enough for the both of us.

  “I love you, too,” she breathed.

  Pushing myself up, I pulled her panties down, letting my fingertips graze her legs. Chills moved across her skin, prompting me to kiss the inside of her knee. Standing, I tugged my jeans down my hips and let them pool on the floor at my feet.

  I moved between her legs again. I held her legs open, my palms digging into her inner thighs, as I pressed my lips against her heated moisture. She moaned, and her hips lifted from the bed as she pressed herself firmly against my mouth. I moved her hands around and gripped her ass as I teased and sucked her swollen knot with my tongue. She cried out, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling.

  “Blaine, please.” Her voice was deep and raw from her crying.

  She tugged my hair again, and I followed, settling between her thighs and holding her body close to mine.

  “I need to feel you inside me,” she breathed. “I’ve been so empty since you’ve left. Please,” she begged.

  Hearing her whispered pleas was my undoing. I positioned myself against her, slowly filling her with my hard length. Her body stretched, tugging at me tightly, and sending desire through my body. I moved inside of her, wanting to savor the pleasure and the pain of being with her, wanting to mark her with my body. Making love to Chelsey felt bittersweet. And something deep in my chest told me no matter what I said or did, she’d never be the girl she used to be.

  **********

  CHELSEY HAD NOTHING EDIBLE IN HER KITCHEN.

  Closing the refrigerator door, I stood with my hands on my hips and let my eyes move around her apartment. It was such a comfy place, but she needed food in the place. Chelsey had a bad habit of getting so involved in her assignments that she’d forget to eat. That needed to stop.

  Making my way to the bedroom, I stood in the doorway and watched as she slept. Her chest rose with her slow, steady breaths. She was sleeping so sweetly, and I wasn’t about to wake her. She needed the rest, and I knew it was going to be a while before she woke up. I wanted to be back before she did. I wanted to be the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes.

  Our night together was rough. We spent the night coming to terms with our past, all while trying to heal each other. I stayed up most of the night, watching her move around the bed restlessly with nightmares, and when she’d jerk awake, I’d hold her until she fell back asleep.

  But we’d made it through together, and I could only hope that once she woke, we could continue to heal and grow together. I wanted to be with Chelsey for the rest of my life. I wanted to start over and maybe one day start a family. The thought of kids had never really crossed my mind, but now, knowing I’d already lost a baby, the possibility warmed my heart.

  When I closed my eyes I could picture Chelsey swollen with our love, her stomach hard and full of a child. I wanted to spoil her. I wanted to wake up and go to the store at three AM for ice cream and pickles. Anything she wanted or needed. Anything. It was hers.

  I pulled my shirt on and grabbed my keys from the nightstand. My eyes fell on the black and white picture. The blurry spot in the center, the spot I knew was our baby, was more noticeable. Picking it up, I folded it and stuck it in my wallet. I wasn’t going to keep it, but I wanted it close to me for a little while.

  Leaning over Chelsey, I pressed a kiss to her forehead, and then I left.

  I wasn’t going to be gone long. Just long enough to get clean clothes from home and pick up a few things at the grocery store.

  I stepped into the sunlight and started toward my car. I pulled open the door and got ready to climb in, when someone sucker punched me in the back of my head.

  I shook the pain from my head and turned. My eyes landed on one of the frat boys from the party the night before.

  “Let’s see how tough you are now, you piece of shit,” the frat boy hissed. “You broke my friend’s nose, and now there’s going to be hell to pay.”

  “Bring it on, motherfucker,” I growled.

  I went for him, shoving my shoulder into his chest and knocking him on his ass. My knuckles ached when I punched his cheek, and he turned his head to the side to spit out blood. I raised my arm to hit him again, but then I was pulled away. I struggled in the hold of three guys, as another one appeared in front of me, and then another behind him.

  Nice. Six against one. That’s how Ivy League bitch boys liked to play.

  I was held there, while three of the frat boys beat the shit out of me. It wasn’t my first real ass beating, and I was sure it wouldn’t be the last. I held my head high as they took turns punching me in my stomach and in my face. And when one of them got close enough, I spit a mouthful of blood in his face.

  The beating got worse from that point on. At some point I began to black out. Still, I refused to go down like a pussy. I fought against their hold, and was able to break free and get a hit in before they knocked me to the ground and started kicking me at the same time. Their boots dug into my sides and head until the world around me tilted and everything went black.

  **********

  WHEN I WOKE UP, I was in the hospital. My eyes were blurry, but no matter how much I blinked, I couldn’t clear them. The memory of the guys jumping me moved through my head, and I tried to lean up. The fuckers weren’t going to get away that shit. I was going to find them, and when I did, there would be hell to pay.

  Pain moved through my side, making me gasp, and I fell back onto the bed. It was then I felt something warm in my hand. I looked down to find Chelsey sleeping at my side, her fingers intertwined with mine.

  I smiled.

  Squeezing her fingers, she jumped and sat up with wide eyes.

  “You’re awake,” she rasped.

  “I’m awake.”

  I sounded like shit, my voice was broken and my body was bruised.

  “What happened? Who
did this to you?” she asked.

  It wasn’t important. She didn’t need to know the details. I didn’t want her to feel bad or blame herself.

  “I don’t know,” I lied. It was for the best. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Lynn and Marshall found you in the parking lot outside my apartment. We called the ambulance and I rode with you. You’ve been here for three days.”

  Three fucking days. That was crazy.

  My eyes moved over her face and I saw the strain in her expression—the dark circles around her eyes—and the sunken skin of her cheeks.

  “When’s the last time you ate? Have you been here the whole time?” I asked, worry moving through me.

  “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’re okay.”

  “Yeah,” Lynn said from the doorway. She stood there with her arms crossed with Marshall at her side. “Don’t let her lie to you, Blaine. She’s been by your side for three damn days. She won’t eat and I can barely get her to take a nap.”

  My eyes met Chelsey’s and she blushed.

  “I couldn’t leave you,” she whispered, before she leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on the top of my hand. I opened my fingers and ran them through her hair. “After all the terrible things I’d said to you. I accused you of killing our baby. I’m so sorry, Blaine. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I smiled at her, my cheek aching. I was sure most of the bones in my body were broken, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was I was alive, and my girl was at my side.

  “Don’t apologize,” I said, running my fingers through her hair. “Let’s move past all of it. Let’s do it together. I want to start over with you Chelsey.”

  She nodded. A tear moved past her lashes, and she lifted her hand to wipe it away. My eyes landed on her finger, and I smiled when I saw she was wearing the promise ring I’d given her on her eighteen birthday.

  I took her hand, running my thumb over the ring. “You kept it.”

  “Of course I kept it. You gave it to me. I guarded it with my heart.”