Bad Seed

by Rye Hart

  My body was under a lot of stress, juggling two jobs. I worked nine to five with Mr. Hart at the counseling center, then wrapped up things with my clients at the P.A. company during my spare time. Early morning counseling sessions, late night schedule toggling, phone calls planned for the weekend. My boss had accepted my resignation with a smile on her face as I explained to her the job I had been hired for. The only condition was that I wrapped up contracts I already had open with other clients.

  The money was nice, but the lack of sleep was rough.

  “Come on, Miss Jakobson. Let’s get you to the hospital,” Mr. Hart said.

  “What if—what if something’s wrong?” I asked. “I don’t know if my health insurance has kicked in. I can’t afford those bills yet, Mr. Hart.”

  “We’ll figure it out. Right now, you need a doctor. Come on.”

  I had informed Mr. Hart of my physical condition on my first day of work and he had been very supportive. He applauded me for taking on the responsibility of being a single mother and offered to help in any way he could.

  As my boss raced me down the highway, the cramping got worse. I held my stomach, fearing the worst as my mind began to swirl. If this was it, Drake had a right to know. If I was about to lose this child, Drake needed to know what was going on. Even with Mr. Hart at my side, I was scared and alone.

  All I knew was that I had to tell Drake.

  I had to tell him everything.

  “Sir? Sir, what’s going on?” a nurse asked.

  “Um—she’s a twenty-five-year-old female. One of my employees. She’s pregnant and experiencing some pain,” my boss said.

  “Do you know how far along she is?” the nurse asked.

  “About—seven weeks or—or so,” I said.

  “Let’s get her in a wheelchair. Ma’am, if you could just sit back for me, we’ll get you into a room,” the nurse said.

  “I need to call someone. Please. It’s urgent. I have to—have to call—um—”

  I couldn’t get the words out. As they pushed me down the hallway, something warm was trickling between my legs, and the only thing I could think about was Drake.

  “We need to get her a phone,” Mr. Hart said. “Now.”

  My hand was trembling as I dialed Drake's number. The nurses were hooking me up to I.V.’s and preparing me for ultrasounds. There were monitors beeping and lights flashing and the room was so cold. My feet were numb and my hips were aching and my stomach was rolling and I felt like I was going to vomit.

  I dialed the phone and Drake picked up on the second ring.

  “Delia?” he practically shouted into the phone, sounding surprised.

  “Drake --,” my voice broke.

  “Delia? Delia, what’s wrong?” he sounded panicked now.

  “I’m in the hospital Drake, can you please come?”

  I barely remembered the rest of the conversation as the activity around me increased. I dropped the phone from my hand and listened to it clatter on the floor. The nurses had shoved my boss out of the room and wrapped me in heated blankets. I couldn’t stop shivering. I felt the room spinning. My vision was blurring, and my legs were freezing and there were so many monitors trying to lull me to sleep.

  It was so hard to keep my eyes open.

  I laid on the hospital table as nurses gathered around me. The doctor examined me and noted his findings in my chart. I felt so lost. So alone.

  My eyes flew open as a ruckus grew outside my door. A voice was yelling, and people were shrieking. I heard footsteps trampling as my hospital door burst open. Tears were running down the side of my face as I felt someone’s hand slip into mine, and the moment I felt those calluses rub against my skin I knew who it was.

  Drake.

  “What the hell’s wrong with you, woman?” he said, into my ear.

  I was so relieved to hear his voice that I giggled.

  “What the hell were you thinking, not telling me about this? What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

  I turned my face toward him and saw how red he was, inflamed with anger as tears of worry pooled in his eyes. His skin had a healthy glow and his lips were fuller than I remembered.

  Sobriety looked good on him.

  “I’ll give you two some privacy,” a nurse said.

  I heard my hospital door shut behind him as my eyes held Drake’s.

  “Why the fuck would you not tell me something like this?” he asked.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, with a sob. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

  “How the hell could you think that?”

  “Your sobriety. I didn’t want to be a—a trigger.”

  I fell apart into a fit of sobs as Drake gathered me in his arms. He held me against him and stroked my back. I felt his heart beating rapidly, filled with the fear I was experiencing in my own body. His hand stroked my hair as he whispered soft words into my tresses, kissing the top of my head and trying to get me to calm down.

  “I’m sorry for fussin’ at you,” he said. “It’s gonna be all right. We’re gonna get through this.”

  “I’m losing our baby,” I said.

  “Whatever’s goin’ on, we’re gonna get you straightened out. And we haven’t heard from the doctor yet. Maybe there’s an explanation for it.”

  “Something’s wrong, Drake. Something’s really, really wrong.”

  He rocked me in his arms as I went limp against him. I sobbed as the pain continued to ricochet up my back. I felt Drake’s hand migrate to my stomach, his hand splaying across the tightness of my abs. I wasn’t far enough along to be showing, but I was far enough along for him to feel the change in my body.

  I felt him pause, his fingers fluttering over my stomach as he digested the scenario he’d been thrust into.

  “I knew somethin’ was different,” Drake said.

  “What?”

  “This past weekend. When we were together. I knew something was different about your body. Your breasts were swollen and your stomach was tight, I never figured—”

  I pulled my face from his chest and gazed up into his eyes. I lifted my hand to cup his cheek, feeling his soft skin underneath my fingertips. I could tell he had been getting some sun. I allowed my fingers to trace his jawline, taking in the whole of him as he laid my body back down onto the bed.

  “All right, Miss Jakobson. I have the results of your—”

  I looked over toward the doctor, but her eyes weren’t on me, instead, her eyes were fixed on Drake. She swallowed thickly, and her cheeks began to flush, and that telltale shuffle many women had in Drake’s presence started.

  What the hell was wrong with this woman? Could she not be professional?

  “Ma’am?” Drake asked.

  “Yes, sorry. Um—the results of your tests, Miss Jakobson. Your hCG levels are—”

  Her eyes flickered back over to Drake and I sighed as I closed my eyes. I felt Drake’s hand tighten around mine as he cleared his throat. I wanted to know what was going on and the woman couldn’t focus long enough to tell me. I would’ve laughed at her had I not been so damn scared.

  “Doctor. I appreciate you being a fan, but could you focus on the mother of my kid, please?”

  “Yes Mr. Blackthorn. Sorry. Um—yes, your tests. Long story short, your baby’s fine, Miss Jakobson. Your hCG levels are steadily climbing into levels we always want to see this close to a second trimester.”

  “Then what’s causing her pain?” Drake asked.

  “Miss Jakobson is a thin woman. Her pelvis isn’t situated for childbirth yet, so her body’s doing a lot of expanding. She’ll experience pain like this on and off during her pregnancy. Her bones will be shifting and her tendons will be loosening as her body readies itself for labor. It’s normal but will be very uncomfortable.”

  “So, she and the baby are gonna be okay,” Drake said. “Is there anything she can take for the pain?”

  “Yes. We’ve got acetaminophen running through her I.V. right now. She can take Tylenol fr
om here on out, as it is safe for pregnancy, but in the recommended doses only,” the doctor said.

  “I’ll make sure that happens,” Drake said.

  “You don’t need to babysit me Drake,” I said.

  “Woman, you’re pregnant with my child. Now that I know that, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

  “Would you like to see the baby?” the doctor asked.

  I whipped my head over toward the doctor as Drake clamped down onto my hand.

  “Like an ultrasound?” I asked.

  “Mhm. We’ll need to do one anyway for our records. Might as well have Daddy present,” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry, we’ve got a mobile unit on a cart, so you don’t have to move an inch.”

  I caught his gaze, his eyes sparkling with light and life as he nodded his head.

  “Get that cart in here,” he said. “I wanna see my kid.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Drake

  After the ultrasound, Delia had fallen asleep as the I.V. fluids ran through her system. The doctor wanted her rehydrated before she left and I still had to do damage control with the media. Some people had seen me rushing into the hospital, and throngs of fans had gathered in all areas trying to get a glimpse of me. I figured the only way to get them to leave was to give them what they wanted.

  I signed autographs and took pictures with people while Delia slept. Hank was in the corner fielding a steady stream of phone calls, no doubt from media outlets who had caught wind of the fact that I’d dashed into a hospital. Nurses and parents were wheeling sick children up to me and I took the time to be with them. It took two hours to get Delia fully hydrated before the doctors would release her from the hospital. I tried to give her as much space to process everything as I could. Hank was putting out informal press releases to news outlets and magazines, popular blogs and radio stations. Everyone was speculating that I was back in the hospital due to my alcohol, but Hank was reassuring everyone that it was a family emergency and that everything was fine with me.

  That was all we were telling the media until I could figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do now. I stared at the ultrasound picture in my hands and I couldn’t help but smile. Though tiny, and looking like nothing more than a lima bean, our baby was perfect. I thought back to the morning I’d buried Shannon and Ava, and I’d opened that damn pregnancy test. I thought then that I’d never have another chance at having a family. But now, looking at that little lima bean, I knew I did.

  When Delia came shuffling out of her room, her cheeks were still stained with tears. I rushed over to her and wrapped my arms around her, walking alongside her as we walked down the hallway. I helped her to the parking deck out back so we could stay away from the cameras, then I loaded her into my truck and took off.

  “Do you know the way to my place from here?” she asked.

  “I do.”

  “Well, you missed the left turn you were supposed to make?” she asked.

  “Because you’re not going home.”

  “Where am I going, then?”

  “We’re going to my place so I can take care of you and we can talk about all of this.”

  “Please, I don’t want to be a burden,” she said.

  “Now look. All this time, you hid the fact that you are pregnant from me. And I get it—I understand your reasoning. But I meant what I said in that hospital. Now that I know, I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m not dropping you off anywhere. You’re coming to my house, you’re sitting on my couch, and you’re letting me take care of you for a change.”

  Delia nodded and settled into her seat.

  As I drove, I turned the truck down every back route I could think of, just in case someone was tailing us. I pulled into my driveway and shut the truck. I walked around to the passenger door and helped Delia down.

  I unlocked the door and threw it open, ushering her over to the couch. I went into the kitchen and got us both a glass of water, but she tried to shoo hers away.

  “You were so dehydrated you needed three I.V. bags in the hospital. Drink the damn water,” I said.

  She looked up at me with that cute little scrunched up nose before she took the water from my hands.

  I sat down on the coffee table in front of her as she sank into the couch. She took mindless sips of the water I handed her, avoiding my gaze when possible. I raked my eyes up and down her body, taking stock of the way it was changing. Her hips did seem a little wider and her stomach was tighter than usual. Her breasts were definitely bigger. Practically spilling out of the bra she had on.

  I took a deep breath to settle my desires for her as her eyes finally connected with mine.

  “Explain something to me,” I said. “I wanna know how the hell you were gonna take care of this child on your own.”

  “I have health insurance now and a salaried job. I don’t rake in millions like you do, but I don’t need millions to take care of a baby.”

  “Were you gonna raise our baby in some studio apartment?” I asked.

  “No, of course not, and quit being a snob. There is nothing wrong with my apartment. I have a financial plan on track to rent a two-bedroom apartment closer to where I work. I can save gas money by walking, and my yearly bonuses can go toward saving for childcare. I have it all laid out.”

  “So you really had no plans to tell me, about any of this. Despite the fact that I helped you make this child,” I said.

  I was still simmering with anger. Even though I was worried about her condition physically, I couldn’t believe she would keep something like this from me. I had my downfalls, sure, but I had the capacity to provide for my child.

  “Do you know what that phone call did to me, Delia?” I asked.

  “No,” she said, looking away.

  “The moment told me you were pregnant with my baby, my world stopped.”

  “I didn’t want you drinking again,” she said, breathlessly.

  “Why the fuck would a kid make me drink? If anything, you make me wanna drink! With your stubborn-as-hell ways and wanting to always buck up against me.”

  “I don’t want to make you drink,” she said with a whisper. “I don’t want your sobriety to be derailed because of me.”

  I watched her face scrunch up as her gaze fell to her lap. I watched as a tear dripped into her water and I knew I’d done it. I’d made this woman cry, and if my momma was alive right now she’d slap the back of my head. I had better ways of communicating my anger to her than this, all I had to do was take the time to find them.

  “Come here. I’m sorry. It’s okay,” I said.

  I took the water from her hands and situated myself on the couch next to her. She was curling into herself, weakening in a way I’d never seen from her. Even though I’d only known her a short amount of time, I’d known her to be a spitfire. Strong and steadfast. And there she was, curling up onto my couch and crying into her knees because I was being an asshole.

  Fuck.

  I wiped her tears and cradled her against me as I thought about the child growing inside her.

  Our child.

  “I’m sorry, I just need you to explain to me what the hell you were thinking,” I said. “Because I don’t understand it.”

  “Please don’t be mad,” she said.

  “I can try my best. You waited until you thought you were losing this child to reach out to me. You shouldn’t have waited until catastrophe struck before you told me.”

  “Look Drake, when I found out I was pregnant, you were still in rehab. What the hell was I supposed to do? Come tell you over lunch while you were in the midst of that struggle?” she asked.

  “What about when I got out of rehab?” I asked. “You could’ve told me then. Delia, you only live like three fucking miles up the road.”

  “I tried to read up on what you were going through in rehab without reaching out to you. Hank fired me so quickly, I figured the reason he did was because you asked him to. But I did want to know what you were going thro
ugh. What you were experiencing. And one of the things I read up on was triggers. I’ve studied this, Drake.”

  “Delia, you’re not a trigger. You tried to keep me from drinking. My band is a trigger. Stress is a trigger. You're not, you never could be.”

  “But that’s exactly what I mean. Stress is a trigger. I knew how stressed I was and could only imagine what it would be for you.”

  “I’m not stressed. Pissed, yeah. Confused, hell yeah. But stressed? Nah.”

  “How are you not stressed by this? I am!” she said.

  “Wanna know why I’m not stressed?” I asked.

  “Because you’re suddenly a saint?”

  “Hell no. Delia, I’ve always wanted kids. I wanted a large family, back when I was with Shannon. I thought I'd lost my chance at that, though.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I mean, I know I haven’t exactly acted like I want to be married with a family again, but I do. I always have. I’ve dreamt of having a ton kids since I was one myself. Look at what I do for Elsie. How could you not see that?”

  I saw her jaw trembling again and quickly pulled her into my lap. I sat here, with her changing body against my chest as I sighed into her hair. She was scared. I knew she was. And I was, too. We’d though we were losing something precious today. Something that I didn’t even know to exist before a few hours ago. I was holding the mother of my unborn child in my arms, and the only thing I could feel was an overwhelming need to protect her. To care for her. To make sure she and this baby had everything they could possibly need to be healthy and succeed.

  “I’ve got you now,” I said. “You’re gonna be taken care of.”

  “I can’t ask that of you,” Delia said.

  “Then it’s a good thing it don’t require askin’.”

  I grinned at her as I pulled her back into me. I reached for my phone and pressed it into her hand, hoping she would go along with the plan I had for us. I felt her brow furrowing against my skin as I placed a kiss against her forehead, her eyes darting up at me curiously as I smiled.

  “Call your boss. Tell him you’re okay, but that you’ll need until Monday off,” I said.

  “I can’t do that. I have to work tomorrow,” Delia said.