“That's not possible,” Jameson said. “Tate's on birth control.”
Sanders repeated this to the doctor, who shrugged.
“No birth control is one hundred percent effective. We can run more tests, I can question the emergency room staff, but the answer will be the same.”
This time, Sanders didn't wait for them to ask what the doctor had said. “He's saying birth control isn't always one hundred percent effective, and that they are sure you were pregnant.”
“Oh my god,” Jameson breathed, and he gripped onto the rail of the hospital bed with one hand. Tate shook her head.
“I can't ... I didn't ... I had no idea!” she sounded shocked. “How could I not know? How pregnant was I?”
“He said they're guessing anywhere from six to eight weeks.”
Jameson was still staring wide eyed at Sanders, his mouth clenched shut. Tate just shook her head some more.
“I can't believe this. How could I not know?” she repeated herself. “And it's – the baby – the baby is gone?”
“Yes, the accident caused you to miscarry. I'm very sorry,” he said, glancing between them.
“I had a miscarriage,” she whispered. Jameson was still silent.
“He is assuring me that it won't ... you should still be able to get pregnant again, in the future, should you want to,” Sanders said, looking back at her again.
“We haven't even really talked about it. I just ... I can't believe this. And they're sure? They're positive? It couldn't be someone else's results, somehow?”
“I asked the same questions. He assured me they're your results, and he offered to have the attending doctor speak to you, but said the answer will be the same. I'm very sorry, Tatum.”
“No, no, you don't have to be sorry, this isn't anyone's fault. I just don't understand how I couldn't – Jameson!”
Her sentence ended in a shout as a stunned Jameson suddenly walked out of the room. They all stared after him for a moment, shocked.
“Where is he going?” Tate demanded, struggling to move to the edge of her bed.
“I don't know. Please, do not move, I will be right back,” Sanders said, then he repeated it to the doctor in Russian before hurrying out of the room.
When he stepped into the hall, it was to see Jameson striding up to the nurse's station. The man who had hit Tatum, Mr. Borya Sokolov, was still up there. He was now sitting in a chair, speaking to someone who worked for the hospital.
Sanders took all this in, not connecting the dots. For an incredibly smart person, sometimes he was also incredibly dense. He didn't realize Jameson's intentions until he was practically on top of the man, yanking him out of his chair with one hand while repeatedly punching him across the face with his other.
This has certainly got to be the strangest day of my life, and I feel like that is saying a lot.
“What's happening? Why is there shouting? Sanders! Sanders! What is going on!?”
Tate's voice shouting from her hospital room got him to snap to attention and he ran down the hall. The police had gotten involved, and though two of them were tugging and pulling at Jameson, he wouldn't budge. He had Borya Sokolov on the ground and was still hitting him.
“You fucker,” he was yelling. “You mother fucker! You wanna fucking run a red light? Fuck up someone's life? You stupid mother fucker. I am going to end you. End you! Can you hear me? By the time I'm done with you, you'll be rotting in some fucking gulag! Somewhere that makes the Crosses look like a fucking resort! You stupid mother fucker!”
Hospital security showed up, and all four of the officers were finally able to pull Jameson away. He still struggled in their hold, shouting obscenities. Borya Sokolov was sitting up, spitting out blood and pieces of teeth, cursing right back at Jameson in Russian.
“Enough!”
Sanders raising his voice – actually shouting – seemed to get through Jameson's blood lust. His eyes landed on him and he stared for a moment, then he got control of himself. Stopped struggling.
“Tell them I'm finished now,” he said in a low voice.
Sanders did tell the officers, and also explained exactly who Jameson Kane was, and exactly what had happened. What kind of news they'd just received.
Once they were confident Jameson wasn't going to flee the scene of his assault, they let him go. A security guard walked with them back to the hospital room, where a whole other chaotic scene was taking place.
Apparently upon realizing some sort of fight was underway, Tate had decided enough was enough. She'd tried to get out of her bed, only to collapse on the floor. Her doctor was frantically calling for help, all while she cried on the ground and clutched her injured leg.
Jameson rushed to her side, but Sanders had reached his breaking point. He slowly backed out of the room, his hand going to his hair. He came up to a wall and pressed his back against it. He pulled at his dark locks, curling his hand into a fist. Trying to feel pain. To feel anything that would drown out the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He closed his eyes and hummed softly to himself.
I can't do this. I was not made for this. How can we survive this?
ONCE EVERYONE – INCLUDING himself – had calmed down, things got a little better. Embassies and lawyers were called. Palms were greased. Policemen were bribed. Sanders didn't make good on any of Jameson's threats against Borya Sokolov, though. He would let Jameson do that himself. But he did take care of everything else, acting in Jameson's stead while he took care of Tate.
It was night time again before Sanders got a moment to himself. He thought about going home. Changing his clothes, and grabbing a change for Jameson. He could also gather together a bag of necessities for Tate. She would be wanting her things soon enough, toothbrush, underwear, hair care products.
But he couldn't bring himself to leave. He hadn't spoken to them at all throughout the day. Instead, he'd arranged for a translator to come help them while he took care of business. Now that business was done, he wanted to see how they were doing. Check in. Make sure things weren't as badly damaged as they'd been when he'd left them.
He didn't immediately walk into the room. He stopped just outside the door, listening, not wanting to interrupt them if they were having a private moment. He could hear them speaking, Tate's voice almost audible, Jameson's nothing more than a low grumble. So he sighed and took the next step, standing just inside the doorway.
Jameson was back in his chair. He was completely bent over, resting his head on Tate's stomach, one of his arms draped across her legs, hugging her to him. She was sitting up a little, brushing her fingers through his hair.
“It's okay, Jameson.”
“It's not okay, Tate. Stop saying that.”
“I'm going to keep saying it until you get it.”
“I should have killed him.”
“Stop,” she insisted. “It was an accident. A horrible fucking accident, yeah, but they happen. I wish ... god, I really wish it hadn't happened to us. Or at all. But that doesn't change anything. It was awful, terrible. Now we have to work past it.”
There was a long pause.
“I should have killed him.”
“You are such a boy,” she sighed, and he snorted at her.
“Damn fucking right I am. Jesus, Tate, do you have any idea ...” his voice drifted off, but as Sanders watched, Jameson's arm got tighter around her. She nodded her head.
“Yeah, I have an inkling.”
“Don't ever do that to me again,” he whispered. She smiled down at him.
“I didn't mean to do it this time. I'll try my best.”
“Your best means shit to me. You can't leave me here without you.”
“I don't plan on it, but I can't control drivers who don't pay attention to stop signs.”
There was another long pause. Tate kept her head tilted down, staring at Jameson. Sanders couldn't see his face, it was turned away. He knew he should leave, give them this moment alone. But he couldn't make his feet move.
“What if ...” Jameson's voice finally breathed. Tate's smile stayed in place, but a single tear rolled down her face.
“We can have other babies, Jameson,” she assured him in a whisper.
“I didn't particularly want any babies, not until now. Maybe not even now,” he was honest. “But I can't stop thinking about it. What if ...”
“Yeah,” she let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, what if ...”
“I can do so many things, and I love you so much, but I couldn't stop this. I should've been able to stop this,” he whispered.
“I love you, too, but no one could stop this, Jameson. You're not god.”
“Says you,” he grunted.
She let out a genuine laugh. A patented, tried-and-true, Tatum O'Shea laugh, and just like that, Sanders knew everything would be okay.
He left them then, alone with their whispers about love and promises. It had been a heavy blow, but it wouldn't break them. Sanders doubted anything could.
Sometimes, he wondered, if that's why things like this happened to people. Not to test them, but to prove to other people what true faith looked like. What true love looked like. Sanders spent a lot of time thinking about those two things, wondering about them. Unsure if he understood them, or if he even believed in them.
But how could he not, he realized, when he saw them every day in Tate and Jameson?
MORE FROM THE AUTHOR
ALL AVAILABLE IN THE AMAZON KU PROGRAM
THE KANE SERIES
"... thanks to Stylo for getting me lost, breaking the rules, and "going there". This was fresh and dark ..." - Penelope Douglas, NY Times and USA Today Bestselling author of the Fall Away series and Corrupt
Degradation
Separation
Reparation
Completion
Reception
STANDALONES
"I could not fault one moment of this story, I devoured every word and every beautiful depraved page. Days later I am still thinking about it and I know that it will be one of those books that will be etched into my soul, I honestly loved it that much." - I Love Book Love blog, review for The Bad Ones
The Bad Ones
My Time in the Affair
Just a Little Junk
Muscle Memory
THE MERCENARIES
Best Laid Plans
Out of Plans
The Mercenaries: Boxset
TWIN ESTATES NOVELS
"... only one author I know continues to blow my ever-loving mind with the sheer gutsiness and uniqueness of her stories ... Stylo Fantôme continues to write with such intelligence and verve ... once again, she delivers with a book that is hot sexy escapism at its finest." - Natasha is a Book Junkie
Neighbors
The Neighborhood
Block Party
Neighborhood Watch
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Every year for my publish anniversary, I do something. Either a sale, or a book for free, or even a surprise novella once.
Usually the surprise is centered around the Kane books, because those were my first books, and I always like to pay homage to Jameson.
But this year I was fretting, because I wasn't sure what to do. I'd already done all the sales, given away lots of books, and I had no real new Kane stories on the horizon. I was sort of at a loss – what to do? Maybe make a box set? But I didn't think people would be very interested in that. Kane is also my oldest series, most of my readers already own them and have read them, so a box set seemed a little redundant.
I was talking about it with Mr. F, sort of lamenting the whole thing, as well as writing in general. I'd somewhat fallen out of love with it. I hadn't had any new ideas in a while, and I didn't particularly want to work on anything. There just wasn't any spark in it for me.
But talking to him about the publish-versary got me thinking about my old stories. Characters I hadn't visited in a while. For some authors, when a book or series is done, that's it, they're done and gone. For some of us though, those characters live on in our minds, quietly living and growing and working in the background. Not enough for a full story. Not even enough for a novella, really. More like little vignettes. Situations and scenes, glimpes into their lives.
I have them for most of my books, but I'd never explored them because I knew they weren't enough for a full story. Maybe a chapter or two, at best. Not enough to publish on their own. But if I were to pool a couple of them together ...
Some of these chapters were written specifically for this book – Mischa and Tal's chapter, for one. I'd always known they'd be the characters to actually go on to have children. I don't have children and I'm not particularly comfortable around young children, so that's why my characters never have them. Tal and Mischa were different, though, I could just feel it for them. For their unconventional start, they are a very conventional couple in my opinion.
Dulcie and Constantine's chapter was also written just for this publication. I've thought about them a lot during the last two years, but virtually everything that happened in their chapter was brand spanking new – I'd never pictured them going back to Fuller, I'm not sure where that came from. Aidan, however, is a character I'd thought of a while ago, and it was sort of fun to tag him in at the end.
Law's chapter was written a long time ago, it sits in a larger WIP that will hopefully some day be a full book just for Kingsley. The Kane chapter was also something I thought of years ago. Die hard Kane fans will remember Tate talking about a scar in Completion, on her leg. She's referencing the accident that happens this chapter. For some reason, that one little scene in their lives has always been crystal clear to me, so I was glad I finally got to share it.
While I Was Away is a sneak peek chapter at a book I haven't published yet. I haven't even finished it. I've stalled in the last third, and I'm still working out how I want it to go. But two friends have already read what I've written, and both said they thought it was my best work yet, so it could just be the pressure. It's very different from what I normally do, but it was also a lot of fun.
Jon and Delaney are super fresh in my mind, since Muscle Memory wasn't all that long ago, so their story hasn't developed a lot. Everything written in their chapter was spur of the moment. I just thought it would be kind of funny to see Jon on the opposite side of his issues, and to have Delaney really see first hand what it's like to be Jon. I doubt either of them found it very funny.
Wulf and Katya's chapter was similar – we all knew they got engaged, so it was nice to touch on the marriage. I also sort of wanted to see the original triad together again, Wulf, Katya, and Liam. As screwed up as they all were, I liked writing them together. So it was fun to do it again.
I want to thank my beta readers, who took time to read this on a whim and help me pick out teaser quotes – Jennifer, Paige, Nanci, Andrea, Rebecca, Deanna, and Angie. You ladies always come through in a pinch and provide such great feedback. Thanks for sticking with me through all these crazy characters!
Give Me Books, as always, for squeezing me in and getting my stuff out there to the masses.
To all the bloggers and readers and reviewers, what you do never stops being amazing. Us authors are eternally grateful.
And to Mr. F, for listening to me bitch about stuff he has no clue about, and for always taking my side and understanding me, anyway.
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