by Finn, Emilia
“Sweet, thanks.” Kane lifts the empty bottle from the baby’s lips and tosses it onto the table. Lifting the bundle wrapped in a tight blanket, he lays her against his chest and starts patting until she lets out a loud belch. “We gotta talk about this threat. I have zero tolerance for this shit at this point in my life. Exterminate quickly, quietly, and permanently.”
“Kane.” Jess steps forward with sad eyes.
She’s… I guess she’s what we’d consider an innocent. She takes care of business when she has to, but would much rather bring her cop brother in to fix her problems instead of relying on her “security expert” friends, who employ tactics much more permanent and bloodier.
She doesn’t want her man to break the law anymore, but sometimes these things can’t be helped.
“Sorry, Blondie. We gotta do what we gotta do. Someone’s watching, so we gotta have it dealt with. We’re not just gonna sit here and wait to be fucked up.”
“We could bring Alex in?” she suggests with pleading eyes. The cops. Typical. “It doesn’t have to be your way.”
“What do we tell him, babe?” He pats the baby’s back with heavy thumps. “Someone is graffitiing over my graffiti? That’s not good enough.”
“So what are you gonna do? Stand on the lookout with a big sign that says ‘Here I am, come get me’?”
“Well, that would be dumb,” Jay snickers. “Wanna lose your head, other twin? Or do you wanna play smart?” He lifts the blonde baby with confident hands, and burps her against his chest. “We find him, we go to him, we end him. There won’t be any standing in the open with a target on our chests.”
“You go to them?” Jess turns back to Kane, clutching her belly as though every movement hurts. “We just had our babies! This fucking week. And now you’re saying you’re going away? We haven’t been married a week, and you’re gonna break my heart already?”
“No.” His dark eyes somehow darken.
He adopts this hardness, this machine-like personality, when it comes to work. Before her, he was just a soldier who did his job with precision and no emotion. But she makes him human. And being human when you have a target on your head is dangerous.
“I dunno, Blondie. We haven’t figured out the details yet, so you need to stop freaking out.” He reaches out with one hand and gently pulls her closer. He wraps one arm around her hips, and is careful not to hurt her incision when he presses a kiss to her stomach. “We don’t freak until we have reason to freak. We know something is going down, so we’re already a step ahead. Sophia is doing whatever the fuck Sophia does, and soon, we’ll have a clearer picture. Then we make our decisions.”
“Then you leave me and the girls.” Her eyes fill with tears. “You’re relegating me to the kitchen. Marrying me, giving me babies, changing my whole world, and then you think you get to skip out when I need you the most.”
“I’m not skipping out,” he snaps. “I’m protecting.”
“Funny.” She angrily swipes a palm over her cheek to collect fallen tears. “Because it looks like you can’t give away your old life for us. I gave up mine. I haven’t been to work in a month. I won’t go back for a long time. I was supposed to go into partnership with Jules at the firm, but every time I get close, something happens, and I have to take off more time. I gave up my body. I gave up my name. I don’t know how not to cry these days, and I’m so fucking tired, I want to rip my hair out. Oh!” She throws her hand in the air, but cries out when she hurts herself. “But don’t worry about tearing my hair out, because it’s falling out all on its own. The baby hormones are fucking me up hard. Somehow, my vagina hurts, even though they didn’t even come out that way. My boobs are stretched to capacity and hurt so bad, even though I’m not even using them. And now Bishop boys are holding my babies, and making it look so fucking easy when it’s not!”
Jessie often explodes in her man’s face. It’s kind of the price he pays for falling in love with a Louboutin princess, but never does she cry with real tears in her eyes, or staples in her stomach.
Kane stands and walks away from her, but only to come to me. With gentle hands, he places Chicken – or Nugget – into my arms, then turns back to a quietly falling apart Jess.
My heart comes to a dead standstill while this tiny human sleeps against my chest. She has no clue who I am. She doesn’t know that the hands that hold her have killed men. She doesn’t know that the chest she rests against has been torn up from bullets and knives.
She’s so breakable, and no one has any clue that I have no fucking idea what to do.
“I’m not going anywhere, Blondie. I promise. And there’s nothing on this planet I wouldn’t give up for you and the girls. Not a fucking thing.” Kane runs his hands along her arms and down to her hands. “Shit is hard for you right now, baby. You’re tired, you’re sore, and like you said, the hormones are kicking your ass. I want to make this easier on you, I’m doing the best I can. But you need to tell me how to do better.” He pulls her against his chest and presses a kiss to her messy hair. “Tell me what to do to make it easier.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is a cry and a whine in one. “I don’t know how to make it feel better.”
“There’s a massive hormone dump around now,” Soph says. She taps at her computer, apparently researching postpartum hormones. “Milk’s coming in, hormones are pumping through her body, but now she’s only one person again, not three. She needs to rest. And to hold the babies.”
“We took the babies to give her a break,” Jay mumbles.
“Give her the babies and some quiet.”
“Yeah, give me my babies.” Jess pulls away from Kane and walks to me. “Can you bring her to me in the living room?”
“O-okay.” I nod and follow her like a good little soldier.
Real tears are a man’s kryptonite. She can scream about women’s rights and jerky boyfriends all day long, but bring out the real tears and baby hormones, and I’m putty.
I follow her to the living room, and note the way Jay’s chair scrapes back on the tile floor.
He’s a good soldier too, when he has to be.
Jess slowly lowers to the couch, though I feel like she wishes she could throw herself down. She’s wearing pyjama pants and a spaghetti strap tank top, which she pulls down to expose most of her chest, but not the important bits. She lays back in the cushions, then takes Chicken – or Nugget – and lays back so the baby snoozes on her chest.
Jay follows suit, gently passing the baby while not looking at Jess at all, then we turn on our heels and sprint out of there before we’re caught in a torrent of tears.
Kane watches from the doorway, but when we pass him and move back to the kitchen, he moves closer to Jess and begins whispering things that should remain between him and his girls.
“We’re gonna take care of it,” Jay says. He’s quiet, to keep it away from Jess and Kane, but he pulls his chair back out and sits. “We’ll fix it.”
I go back to stand in front of the sink and fold my arms. Abigail’s face flashes through my mind like a flicker show, her expressions ranging from downright pissed to the kind of happy I feel lucky to have been witness to.
Kane can’t fix this, because he has to stay with Jess. Which means it’s on me and Jay. Which means thinking of Abigail hurts, because sooner or later, I’ll be leaving.
“Yeah, we’ll fix it,” I say quietly.
“Eric can’t help us. His kid has more surgery coming up, so he’s gotta stay with Katrina.”
“Mm.” I nod and keep my lips shut when Kane walks back into the kitchen with haunted eyes.
He sits back in the chair he began in, and drops his head with defeat.
I lift my chin and try to peek back into the living room. “She okay, boss?”
He nods, but it’s more of a confirmation that I spoke, than a response to what I said. “She’s asleep.”
“She’s exhausted.”
Again, he nods. “We’re both up every night. I try to help, bu
t though we’re doing formula, she’s still awake every time they are. Her body has been torn to pieces, and her hair is coming out in chunks.” His eyes meet mine. “Tell me that’s normal. Because it’s my fault my babies fucked her up so bad.”
“She chose the babies too,” Soph murmurs. “She’s tired and hormonal, but she doesn’t regret you guys.”
“Did you read that off the net?”
She grins. “Yup. I’m on a ‘What To Expect’ mommy forum. They’re all tired and psycho, but they don’t regret it.”
“What do they say they want from their men?”
She scans her screen, and as she goes, her smile grows. “They want to be hugged. And told they look pretty, even in maternity pants. And if the babies allow it, some chocolate in their diet.”
Kane’s eyes narrow. “They can’t eat chocolate yet, right?”
She snickers. “In Jess’ diet, stupid. Don’t feed newborn babies anything but milk.” She shakes her head. “Try the candy. Hug her, call her beautiful, buy her chocolate, and get her snacks as soon as she wakes up. She’ll be better in a few days.”
“She will?”
She shrugs. “Still tired, but less blue. And maybe call Laine. Jess wants her sister.”
“Solid plan. Laine’s at school today, but I’ll bring her back as soon as she’s done.” He leans back in his seat and glances into the living room.
Jess lays on her back with her head on the armrest and her babies on her chest. They sleep on their stomachs, their faces dimpling and puckered from being smooshed against her.
“I don’t think I can leave them, guys. Not even for a night. Or an hour.” He sighs. “Or even a minute. She’s right; I helped make them. I don’t get to run out now, when she needs me here.”
“Jay and I are gonna do it. Whenever Soph gives us the go, we’ll head out and fix it. You take care of shit here, and keep us updated on Mac’s surgery.”
Kane’s eyes snap to Jay; worry, fatigue, crippling worry again. “Jay? No.”
Chuckling, Jay claps the back of his brother’s head and pulls him in for a half hug. “I’ll be fine. I’m not going anywhere yet, and when we do, we’ll do it up so you have our vitals around the clock. We don’t fuck this up a second time.”
19
Abigail
Time is an odd creature.
Sometimes it rushes away, and you wonder where your day went. Or your week. Your month. Sometimes it crawls by at a snail’s pace and taunts you with the loud tick… tock… that you swear might be the end of you.
That’s my life, as I watch my week trickle by. It’s both painfully fast and excruciatingly slow. Orders come through the shop, cheating husbands and loyal husbands seem to flutter through on a daily basis. But then it feels so slow, and I get mad at myself for watching the clock.
My brothers have spent a decade calling me every single day on an almost hourly basis, but when I demand they back up and give me space, they do exactly that. Instead of hourly calls, they come by in the morning and evening, and all the hours between feel like a lifetime.
They’ve conditioned me to become reliant on the small annoyances, so when the calls don’t come, I feel a little unloved.
Yes, I know how irrational that sounds.
I work the shop most of the day after my night with Spencer, only running out and leaving Roy on the desk for an hour while I deliver a bouquet to the hospital for a new mom. Not Jess. Someone else. I was in and out and only touched the baby’s smooshy cheeks once, then I was back to work and sending Roy away.
The next day, Nadia was back and acting super weird, jumping if I sneezed, squeaking if I spoke. But her odd behavior was overshadowed by my overthinking of the text Spencer had sent the night before.
Come to me tonight?
But of course I couldn’t. My brothers had backed away on the constant phone calls, but naturally, that meant I was bombarded with Rosa men at the dinner table. Everyone except Troy was in my face and demanding I explain everything… ‘but without the details,’ Nixon had said.
He wanted to know if I had sex, but not how it was done. Beckett wanted to know if I was being safe, but if I hesitated for even a moment, he turned green and shook his head to stop whatever I might say. Mitchell was uncharacteristically quiet, but where he lacked, Corey made up for it with obnoxious questions and threats to call Mom and Dad. Troy, of course, had said his bit and then gone on with his life.
It’s funny how, though Troy is the oldest, and kind of the grumpiest, he seems to be the least obsessive about me. It’s not that he loves me any less than the rest, it’s just that he knows I don’t like being babied. He sat with me in my hospital room a billion times. He’s the oldest, so he felt it was his job to be my constant companion, so when he wasn’t working, he was sitting on the end of my bed, talking about the plans we’d both made for our lives.
I think maybe he sees my strength, when the rest of my brothers only see sickness. He sees my stubbornness, when the others see a bratty little sister.
There’s no way I would be able to sneak out now without my brothers noticing, but even if I could, I seem to have caught a nasty case of self-doubt. I went to Spencer’s home the other night, but I didn’t sleep with him. The very thing I know he wanted, I said no to. The next thing he wanted, nakedness, I also said no to. A shower together? Nope. Because that would mean undressing. And undressing would be more than just clothes.
Assuming he wasn’t lying about my skills, I guess I delivered on… other stuff. But I’d hardly consider that a decent alternative to what he truly wants.
There are so many reasons why my self-doubt creeps in and cripples me, but each night when my phone dings, I still dive for the device and hungrily read what he has to say.
It’s never long or poetic. It often includes at least some mild cussing, and mostly the cussing involves alternative words for my body parts. But though he doesn’t send me poems or songs like how I imagine princes from times gone by might, the fact he texts at all is nice. It means he’s thinking of me. It means he wants to see more of me – even though we both know that ‘more’ means my virginity.
It also means he hasn’t moved on to spending time with someone else.
Or, well, perhaps he has, but he hasn’t mentioned it. Which I guess is the gentlemanly thing to do.
Five whole days and nights have passed since I woke in his bed to the sound of gunshots and nearly died from fright. Five days of work, of trying to figure out why Nadia seems a little quieter now. It’s not alarming, really. Just different, considering she’s normally so… ‘I’d let him conquer the heck outta me.’
Five days, three of which I spent visiting with Marcie, and not one of which included a text from Jess to hang out and eat candy. Which isn’t unexpected. We’re not friends, I’m just her florist, and she paid her bill long ago, but still… I’d hoped she’d take me up on my offer.
I’ve spent these past days working with a new bride, a new wedding date, a new color scheme, which is exactly how I like to spend my days. I want to hear about her husband-to-be, how they met, their plans for the future, and what kind of princess gown she plans to wear. The answers almost never disappoint.
But in the five days and five texts from Spencer asking me in various ways to come to him, I haven’t gone. Because how can I possibly explain to him that he can never see beneath my top?
“Abigail Rosa?”
I look up from the waiting room magazine I hold in my hand, and toss it back to the table. I didn’t read a single word, since Spencer enjoys occupying all of my thoughts all of the dang time, but that’s fine with me. Because though he’s big, rough, crude, and all around improper, he still makes me smile.
And I think I’d almost miss it, if he stopped cussing.
I grab my bag and follow the nurse out of the waiting room and into a long hall. I’m back at the doctor’s office, but not for an emergency. Just a routine scan and check-in to make sure my world is still going the way it should be.
Six months from now, I’m due to come back and have more blood taken to make sure my body isn’t trying to kill me again, and then I’ll go on with my life for another year, and praise the universe for giving me a second chance.
I follow the woman wearing cute green scrubs into my doctor’s office, and sit in the spare chair. Doctor Rhett isn’t my general doctor. He specializes in oncology and treatment after diagnosis, so once I was considered in remission, I was moved out of his books and back into the schedule of my regular doctor. For me to have to see Doctor Rhett again would be bad news. So seeing Doctor Rhodes means my world is okay, and that all of the hard work we did years ago was worth it.
I sit for a moment and settle my bag in my lap as the nurse lets herself out of the room, but I barely have thirty seconds to myself before the door bursts open, and I’m faced with my Amazonian doctor. Deep, black hair tied in a knot at the base of her neck. Midnight black skin that looks so plump and perfect, it can’t be real. Smooth, chocolate eyes that see everything. And the kind of smile that people fall in love with.
Doctor Rhodes receives a million Valentine’s cards every February, I’m certain of it.
“Miss Rosa.” She stops in front of me and grins. “It’s so good to see you again.”
I set my bag on the floor and watch as she pulls her chair closer and drops down. “It’s good to see you, too. I always get so excited for these sessions.”
Chuckling, she takes a stethoscope from her desk and swings it around her neck. “I bet you do. How are you feeling? Anything you want to talk about?”
I try to shake my shoulders back and relax into the next hour. These appointments are standard, but terrifying. They bring back horrible memories of pain and loneliness, but when I’m cleared each time, they’re so relieving. You’d think I’d be used to coming here by now, so used to it that I don’t tell my brothers or bring someone along to be with me, but my heart races every single time. I will never truly be okay with these appointments.
