Fighting to Stay (Fighting Madly Book 2)

by Ziegler, S. L.

  “Shit these words are fucking stuck in my throat.” His lips meet mine for a small peck. “When I told you that god-awful night I left that I loved you fucking madly, I didn’t know the fucking gravity of it. Only what I felt made me mad, but now I do. I know what it means whole fucking heartily. With everything in me, with each time I turn over in the night and you are right next to me, each touch, laugh, every fucking moment you gift me with, and those looks you give me that make me feel like I should have a pussy, because it knocks me to my knees. It’s a fucking true, pure love. Those belts, my money, they mean nothing without you. Hands down.

  “You’re the one thing I will always need, the one thing I will always want, the one thing I will never stop craving. When all the world turns to shit, it’s you who grounds me, it’s you who keeps me steady. It’s you who pushes me, it’s you, Hads that saw something in me when I thought I was only shit. All the highs and lows, all the pushes and pulls we had along the way, we came out ahead, proving we still fucking love each other.”

  There is nothing I can say. He’s doing it all himself. He’s laying his heart out tonight.

  Reed drops down on one knee, opening a black box. “Now, this is for you. This one is all yours, babe. Will you do me the fucking honor and marry me?”

  Tears gather in my eyes. My mouth hangs wide open as the words he’s never spoken before still play in my head. “That was a question.”

  The lump in my throat balls up, causing my words to become a jumbled mess.

  “It was. You love both sides of me, and you’ve never fucking asked me to change. So you get it asked both ways—you deserve it.”

  The tears fall. My hand trembles as I cradle his rough cheek in my palm. “Yes. Reed Collins, it will be my pleasure.” My voice is so soft. I’m lost in what he just gave me. What he did for me, the romance factor of a proposal, which I didn’t know I wanted, until he did it.

  His tense shoulders fall and he lets out his breath. He slides the ring on my finger, placing it over the one from earlier. My gaze falls from his, my eyes glued down to my finger. My breath hitches and my free hand covers my gaping mouth as a sob erupts from my throat. This is beyond anything I could have dreamed of. “Oh, God... It’s…Reed.”

  The light dances off the huge circle diamond, and numerous tiny, blue sapphires surround it on a white gold band. It meshes seamlessly with the diamond band he put there just hours ago, giving the illusion it’s one ring. Separate, they hold their own, but together, they click.

  Here lays the true representation of us.

  It’s me.

  It’s him.

  Us.

  Reed stands and pulls me tightly against his chest, the beat of his heart drumming with mine. “The one from earlier isn’t a wedding band; we’ll call it an engagement band. Fuckers at work thought it was stupid to give you both, but I wanted a little of you and a little of me on your finger. What better way than this? And now we’ll have two killer stories to tell the kids.”

  I rise up on tiptoes and wrap my arms around him, squeezing his neck. “You’re pretty amazing,” I whisper. I’m so lucky I have this man of mine, blessed to be taken care of the way I am with him.

  “Good, and one more thing, babe. Our address. You know that talk we had about getting land and building our own house? If you want it, all this could be ours.” He waves his arm around, gesturing toward the beautiful land that sprawls before us. And only a few feet away from us is a pole stuck in the ground. I walk closer. The shadow that covered it before is now gone as Reed moves aside and the beams of the car shine on a sign.

  ‘Future house of the kick-ass Collins’s.

  The words are in black, written in Reed’s chicken scratching.

  “Reed…I mean, you have upped the ante for everything… Why?”

  “Because, babe, you deserve it all, the security, your dreams to come true, and your thoughts need to be heard, and if I can, I’ll give it to you. All of that and fucking more. So much more, Hads.”

  “All this, the rings, your words, the songs. Damn. You only get better with time.” And it’s the most astonishing sense in the universe knowing he stepped out of his box, away from his comfort zone because he’s that madly in love with me.

  “I’m fine wine then.”

  And he is—every single inch of him I could sip up right now, right here.

  One certain thing I’ve given much thought to in the past, too much, is that as women, we spend—well, a lot of women spend—most of our active sex life trying not to get pregnant. We invest countless hours, researching the difference between pills versus shots, IUDs versus rings, condoms, or the pull-out-and-pray method. All the time spent to ensure us not to get knocked up before we are really ready.

  But are we ever really ready to have a child? To raise one?

  While Courtney’s mom and most of my friends’ parents only gave them the skimmed-over, birds-and-bees method, my mother spent most of her time my teenage years instilling and drilling safe sex thoughts into me. I know now she didn’t want me to repeat Mark’s mistake—to the point I was a virgin until Reed. But when young love gets involved, all sanity and safe sex goes out the window, so the baby was made, and the baby was lost.

  As we become older, more mature and possibly wiser, the fever sets in, or our clock starts to tick. We start to try. And for some, they can get pregnant, have a baby with no problems. But for others, myself included in that awful mix, becoming pregnant can turn into a chore of sorts. Some just can, some can’t carry, and well, some we never know what goes wrong. Me? My nightmare is if I can and the when. If the doctor tells me today that I can’t safely carry a baby, will it be a setback? If I can become pregnant, I’ll carry an untold amount of anxiety until the baby is out and in my arms, only to follow that with normal concerns raising the child.

  Either way, I’ll get through it. I’ll be my strength and Reed will be my shoulder, the damn stone next to me. I’ll do it.

  The appointment Reed set up last week, gave me more lingering questions than answers. I had more blood taken out of my body than I think I could pump for all types of tests, from genetics to hormone levels, an ultrasound, and the complete work-up on everything below my belt.

  Now that the week’s up, results are in, and I’ve just been seen by the nurse, we sit in the doctor’s office, waiting for him to come in and deliver the worst or best news in regard to how our future pans out. Reed sits in the chair next to me, one leg over the other, so calm and collected. I shuffle in my seat, my heart nearly exploding inside me, and every second that passes with Reed sitting there like it doesn’t matter makes me want to beat him with my purse.

  “Babe, don’t look at me like that. It will work out.”

  “How are you so calm?”

  “Years of hiding it, and no sense in worrying, because whatever he says, that won’t help us out.”

  “Do you think he found anything? Or maybe didn’t find what he should have?”

  “No clue, but we’ll see soon enough.”

  “But the lady didn’t say anything when she did the ultrasound. That’s a bad sign, right?”

  He tilts his head and narrows his eyes. “Hads, this women shit is all new to me. You want to know why they have fake plants in doctors’ offices?”

  “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “I am. Now, do you know?”

  “Not one clue, Reed.”

  “Because if the plant dies, could you trust them to keep you alive?”

  I shake my head, and can’t help but giggle. “And you call me a dork.”

  A loud knock interrupts the fumble of words and Dr. Lewis walks through the door.

  I don’t have time to stand before Dr. Lewis shakes Reed’s hand first. Then he shakes mine and walks behind his huge, dark-cherry wood desk. He sets his tablet down but his face doesn’t show me any signs, either positive or negative. “Hadley, how are you today?”

  “All right.” I’m anxious. There isn’t an inch of my body
that doesn’t have sweat on it. I fend off an overwhelming desire to walk out the door if I don’t know the results in two seconds. But my real feeling isn’t what he really wants to hear.

  Dr. Lewis presses his lips together before he speaks again. “I hope I can make it better then. We have some great news. Your blood results came back and all levels are normal—blood counts, genetics, everything looks great. Not one problem, even your cholesterol was perfect. Your ultrasound showed nothing wrong with your uterus, fallopian tubes, or ovaries, either.”

  The uneasy pit in my stomach doesn’t loosen because I know what I need to ask next… The question since that day I woke up with my stomach and heart empty, the same one that’s followed me around for years, and the one that I know the answer might not be found. “Do you know why I had the miscarriage?”

  He offers a small smile, the type that’s only used for polite reasons. “There were no indications as to why it happened. I know that’s hard to hear, but most causes of miscarriages aren’t definitively determined.”

  Which I knew deep down. Having been a nurse in the ER, I’ve heard doctors say it to patients more than not. But hope. I wanted even a tiny speck of hope to hold onto, something I could put the blame on then resolve whatever it is for good.

  He leans his elbows on his desk and stares straight into my eyes. “Hadley, you’re young and healthy. That’s a positive. Many of the patients I see that have had a previous miscarriage, end up having a successful full-term pregnancy next.”

  “So my chances of having another miscarriage is just like normal pregnancies? I mean…it wouldn’t be high risk or anything?” I ask. Like the why of my miscarriage, this question hung around just as long.

  “Like I said, everything looks great, but unfortunately, I also can’t say with a hundred percent certainty that you won’t. But no, I don’t see you being high risk, but I will monitor things closer, if the time comes and you do get pregnant.”

  I swallow deeply and glance over at Reed, my Reed, who I love more than anything, yet… “Could it…” My heart skips a beat just thinking this, and I hate it, but it has to be asked. “Reed, um, his um…ex-wife was pregnant, and that also resulted in a miscarriage… Could that be the reason why?”

  Another polite smile from Dr. Lewis. “With Reed’s permission, his doctor faxed over his blood work and sperm count, as well. Those came back normal also.”

  As the news sinks in, a whoosh of air erupts from my lungs and my heart returns to a normal rhythm again. I didn’t want to think it was Reed. I’d pushed that to the back of my mind too many times, yet the tiniest part thought perhaps it was Reed. He could be the reason why both Krystal and I couldn’t carry to term.

  Reed wraps his rough hand around my wrist, his smile spreading. “Can she get her IUD out today?” he questions the doctor, but his gaze never leaves our joined hands. His fingers run soft, slow circles over the back of my hand.

  Yet his touch doesn’t stop my eyes from widening and doing a double take on him. Did he really ask that? No, I must be going crazy. He wouldn’t dare step on my toes that much—would he? Not after we discussed talking through those types of things together first. But he’s restless. He wants his answer.

  Before I can either smack him, tell him to shove off, or both, Dr. Lewis answers. “I don’t see why not. But apologies, sir, that’s up to Hadley, not you.”

  “Ummm.” Reed digests Dr. Lewis’s answer, but he keeps his focus on me. Studying me. He knows I could strike him at any second.

  Dr. Lewis clears his throat. He has to feel the tension in the room. “Why don’t you two talk about it and I’ll come back in a few minutes?”

  The second the door shuts, I’m on the edge of my seat, the anger from him stepping over me again is coming out. I pull my hand from Reed’s grip and the words fly out. “Are you high? Why would you ask that?” If I could, I would literally jump down his throat, and scratch my claws in it.

  “Babe. Hads. Calm down and listen to my fucking points. One, you are good to go. Two, my shit is good—that had me freaked out too. And three, I didn’t mean to get your IUD out right now and then clear the desk and fuck right here to make the damn baby. But if you get it out, you get on the pill, and when you decide it’s time, get off the pill and we can start that damn calendar thing that tells when the best time is to fuck like rabbits. You know, like regular couples do when they start trying? All right, babe?”

  My eyes roll back, anger still boiling in me. “Well, babe. Here are my points. One, I’m glad nothing is wrong with me, also. Two, most of your caveman shit I like—well love—but you’ve been so good for the last year about open communication. Yet this railroading train you’ve been on this last week has to stop, especially in front of people we don’t know. Three, when did you become the know it all on IUD and birth control pills?”

  “I did my research on everything. I mean, on all that shit. Not Laura, not anyone, but me. I didn’t want to wait to find out those answers, when we have so many more choices.”

  “That should be my decision, don’t you think?”

  “I was only trying to help.”

  “Well, don’t.” I fold my arms over my chest and pout.

  He pries my arms apart and takes my face in his hands. That irresistible touch of his. It’s my damn weakness and I almost forgive his overstepping ass. “Hey, Hads, stick that lip in or I’m going to be forced to pull it over your head. I’m not going to say sorry just to say it. Yes, I should have asked you, that’s my bad. But listen, I get that you’re scared to go through it again—hell, so am I. But it’ll be worth it to have a baby. Your baby, mine, ours, in that damn stomach of yours. And think of all the fun the trying will be, and all the places we’ll have to do it when it’s the right time of the month.”

  “I just keep hearing the doctor saying he can’t guarantee that I won’t have another miscarriage.” This is where I wish I could reprogram my nurse brain, forget about all the pregnant mothers coming in to the emergency room, one hundred percent healthy only to lose their baby for no reason at all. Mothers that didn’t have drug use in the past, that ate healthy, that didn’t drink caffeine or alcohol. Mothers that deserved to have their baby, too.

  “Remember, sometimes you have to jump without the parachute to get the biggest reward, and this could be it. I understand if you want to think about it for a while, and I’ll understand if you can’t do it when you are done thinking. Babe. I will. I’m leaving it up to you, though. This is your shot to call. But did you hear all the other shit? Your fucking insides are perfect. I mean, I always knew your insides were as hot as your outside, but now we have medical proof on that shit.”

  “You realize that you turned this into some weird sexual thing, and that it kinda negates and ruins all the sweet stuff you said right before?”

  His eyebrows pinch together and his fucking dimples appear as he smirks. “It did? But I bet it helped.”

  I nibble on my lip to stop the grin, but Reed wiggles his eyebrows, and damn it, it was in vain because a smile breaks out on my face.

  “Now what did you decide to do?”

  “The pill.”

  “Good.”

  “That doesn’t mean we are going to start.”

  “I know, babe.”

  Reed plants a kiss on my forehead before he goes to the door to get the doctor.

  “I hate you, like despise you, like imagining ways to kill you that would be so fucking painful for you, or maybe just stab you in your sleep to surprise you.” I groan as another round of cramps punch the inside of my stomach.

  “It didn’t say anything about hurting in my research,” Reed mumbles under his breath as he helps me out of the car.

  “It didn’t when it came out, but shit, now it does. This is awful. My uterus feels like someone’s stabbing it. I want our bed, a heating pad, and movies. That’s all.”

  “That’s what you will get then.”

  And Reed does. He gathers me up in his arms, walks in the hous
e, up our stairs then places me on the bed like I’m made of glass. He gently takes my clothes off and places an old shirt of his over my head. I could have done it all by myself, but as much as I truly love him at all times, I’m not liking him very much at this moment. And I’m going to bleed this guilt with everything he gives me. And then some. Payback for having a penis and not having to deal with this mess.

  I grab the remote off the side of the nightstand and turn on the TV. The mindless voices of reality television fill my ears as Reed disappears into the bathroom. I’m engrossed in another reality TV fight when Reed comes out with a glass of water and my sleeping pill bottle in his hand. I’ve dealt with most of the reasons the nightmares come and rarely ever need the extra help any more for a calm night’s rest. But the times I fall asleep with even the smallest amount of pain, the terrors come back full force. I brought it up to Graham the third time it happened, and the explanation he had was that sometimes the brain latches onto the real discomfort, remembers the past pain we had, and takes over. But all Reed, my caveman, does is hug me when I need it, give me space when I crave it, and talks it out when it eats at me. He knows when or where to push when it comes to these dreams. Because as much as he will never admit it, he pays attention to my ticks.

  I twist open the bottle and pop one in my mouth then take a swig of the water. My head pounds with each minute I stay upright, and the cramps move down my body. I pull the heating pad out from beside the bed, and the instant I place it on my belly, the heat creates a small bit of comfort.

  Reed strips out of his clothes, putting just his sweat pants on, his body on display for me. Only this time, no ogling from me, no wanting to jump that delectable body of his. Damn, fucking, IUD hell.

  Yet I can still find the beauty in all those tattoos. Especially the sparrows and the stars for Astra.