by Ali Dean
I don’t understand it. I hadn’t even wanted a baby. Or at least, I hadn’t known I’d wanted a baby. But this little life in me had changed everything about how I thought of my life, my career, my hopes and dreams. It had all been rearranged, and was reassembling with renewed purpose. And Little Wilder is just gone. I feel broken now. I can’t go back to who I was before.
Jace
One day of despondency turned into three, and now it had been a week and I was fucking losing my mind with worry. Gran wasn’t holding up much better. She’d been the one to tell me to give Pepper time, but now she was pacing in the hallway outside our room, wringing her hands. Our own grief for the loss had dropped significantly in priority as Pepper sunk into a kind of depression neither of us knew she was capable of. She was the bright, optimistic one in the house most of the time. Serious and disciplined when necessary, but always ready to bounce back from disappointment, determined to chase the next goal.
I’d been ready for anything from her – to tell me she wanted to try again immediately or wait years – to beg to stay in Brockton or move far away – to quit running or dive back into it with a vengeance. But this? Complete despondency? This I couldn’t have prepared myself for. This I didn’t think I could handle. It gutted me.
While Pepper lay in bed for a week straight, a media storm had hit with positive drug test results for Monica Herrick, the star runner on Newbound. I’d begun fielding calls and emails on Pepper’s phone, and confided in Ryan’s dad, Mark Harding, of all people. When I told him what happened after he left her office on Friday, he helped me coordinate with Pepper’s publicist about a statement, get the results from her blood test confirming the story that she’d separated from Newbound weeks before this occurred after learning she was pregnant. In the same statement, we had to confirm the miscarriage as well, which would hopefully create sympathy rather than suspicion. Pepper would hate to use the miscarriage to her advantage like that, but I didn’t see it that way. We were just telling the story honestly and openly to avoid getting her name and reputation dragged through the mud with Ray and Monica and the other Newbound runners.
I’d tried to consult Pepper about all of this but she’d stared into space blankly. I’d needed her consent on the medical records and approval of the press release, and she typed the words and signed her name where I asked, but I was torn. I needed to deal with all this but I didn’t think she’d actually processed anything I’d told her.
I didn’t want to bombard her with all this shit right now. In the end, I trusted Mark because Pepper trusted him. He told me they’d discussed the situation and how to handle it and that she’d been on board with this open approach before. Before the miscarriage. But that was before she lost the baby, when she was excited and happy to tell the world about the pregnancy. Would she still want that?
I wasn’t sure, but I knew that the consequences could be grave if we didn’t get a statement out soon. Silence was often construed as guilt, and once speculation started to brew, it was already too late. So I pulled the trigger, and gave the nod, through Pepper’s “consent” for the statements in the press release, with her story of what happened, and her blood test results. I was quoted as well, saying that we were grieving the loss and to stay the fuck away. The publicist modified the words a little but it got the message across.
Bunny huffed out a big breath and announced she was going in. She opened the door and marched to Pepper’s side of the bed, sitting in the armchair we’d moved over there to try to talk to her and force food into her the past few days.
I opened the blinds partway to let in some light and then sat down on the other side of the bed. I needed to touch her somehow, to have some connection, so I brushed hair away from her forehead. Her eyes were open, staring ahead blindly, her hands tucked under her cheek. She was curled up in a ball under the covers.
“Pepper Jones Wilder. It’s been one week. You have not left this room.” Bunny was trying to use a firm voice but wasn’t very successful. Empathy dripped with every word, and I could practically hear her heart breaking for her granddaughter as she watched her frail body.
“I made chicken dumpling soup. Your favorite Pillsbury crescent rolls. And lemon meringue pie. You’re going to take a bath, get dressed and join us for dinner. Then you’ll sit on the couch and watch a movie. Then you can go back to your hideout until breakfast. But we’re going to keep moving forward. We won’t let you stay here forever.”
When Pepper didn’t respond, I saw Bunny’s lower lip tremble. Before she broke down, she darted out of the room. Shit. Now I had two distraught women to take care of.
I lifted the covers and slid underneath. She didn’t react when I pulled her body to mine, her back to my front.
“Please talk to me, baby. Anything. Just tell me what you’re feeling.”
Silence.
I kept running my hands over her legs, hips, arms, kissing her neck and cheek. I wasn’t trying to start anything, I just wanted any reaction. A sign she was actually here with me.
Finally, she spoke. “Where are the underwear?” she asked.
My hands froze. Another round of bleeding had soaked a second pair of underwear the next day. She’d allowed me to take them off her for a shower, but had grabbed them from me when I’d tried to take them to wash. Both bloodied pairs had been on the floor next to our bed all week. I’d finally let Bunny take them this morning while Pepper was sleeping.
“We washed them,” I told her. “They’re in the dryer.” I’d almost thrown them out, but now I was grateful I’d had the foresight not to. Pepper had attached Baby Wilder to those underwear, and in a way, she wasn’t wrong. The blood did represent the baby’s life. Putting the panties in the trash would have broken her. Maybe it was too late for that. She was broken already, a week later clinging to the only tangible connection she felt to the baby. I didn’t know how to fix her, except to be here.
I heard her crying softly. “I know it doesn’t make sense,” she said. She was referring to the panties still, and the new round of grief she felt at them going through the washing machine.
I hushed her and tried to tell her it was okay. I was surprised when she let me take her into a bath, and then when she asked me to come in with her. It was a small bathtub for two adults, but I couldn’t say no. “I don’t want to be alone. It hurts so much.”
Finally, she was at least talking. “I know, Pep.”
Frankie and Lizzie’s wedding was tomorrow. I didn’t know if I should tell her or not. With everything going on in the media about her running, and Drake trying to stir up a story about exes, I didn’t want to go to the wedding without her. But I was a groomsman, and I couldn’t stand them up.
It was strange sitting in a bathtub with my wife and being unable to touch her sexually. I knew instinctually that even though her body might be recovered already, her mind needed more time. Pepper’s pain hurt me almost worse than the loss that caused it. Both were out of my control.
“It’s going to take time, but it will start to hurt less. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” she whispered.
I didn’t want to tell her this now, but I needed to give her something good to hold onto. “I signed a contract with the Stallions yesterday, baby. We’re staying in Brockton.”
She was nestled between my legs in the tub and I couldn’t see her expression. I wish I could. Maybe there would finally be some life there. Some hope. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it gently. That was enough. Enough to tell me that it would take time. But she’d be okay. We’d be okay.
Chapter Nineteen
Pepper
My first time leaving the house in over a week and we’re going to a wedding with hundreds of people. Jace is in the wedding, and I’m grateful that Gran and Wallace were invited too. I can sit with them during the ceremony, and maybe I can use them as an excuse not to be social. Normally that wouldn’t be an option with Gran, but she’s watching me like a hawk, rubbing my back every
few seconds, and patting me on the shoulder. “You look absolutely beautiful. But you need to eat at least three pieces of wedding cake tonight. You’re too skinny.”
I’m used to Gran trying to beef me up with sweets, but this time, she sounds more serious than usual. After glancing briefly in the bathroom mirror earlier, I understood where she was coming from. My cheekbones stood out too much, my skin was pasty, and dark circles hung under my eyes. One week without fresh air or food did not look good on me.
It shocked me when Gran came to tell me that I’d been in bed a full week. An entire week without leaving the bedroom. I really didn’t want to. I wanted to rest in the pain, leave it sitting right there with me. I was scared that if I left the room, the pain would stab twice as hard and knock the breath out of me again. I was also scared that the pain would dull, and I’d be leaving Baby Wilder behind. Moving on. I didn’t want to move on. But I got up and did it anyway. For Jace. For Gran.
It was hard enough sitting through a huge dinner and a movie. It felt like being under bright lights after years in a dungeon. The analogy wasn’t too far off from the truth. But now, going to a wedding? There isn’t even a comparable analogy. It’s a huge leap. I’m fighting between numbness and excruciating pain in my heart. No one’s making me go. But I don’t want to be alone with a babysitter. Okay, Lulu and Harold or Jim wouldn’t be strangers and I wouldn’t be alone, but being separated from Jace for hours makes me feel sick. Which is silly. Until recently we were separated all the time.
I take a deep breath and shake my head. My world is upside-down. But I need to face it. I’m a fragile shell of who I was a week ago, but I can’t stay this way forever.
Jace
Pepper was surprisingly composed when we got to the wedding venue. It was in Lizzie’s hometown, at her grandparents’ ranch, about a forty-minute drive east of Brockton. Pepper was distant, but not despondent. I was a mess. Frankie and Lizzie knew what was going on and told me not to worry about showing for the pre-ceremony shit with the other groomsmen. There were going to be a ton of people here from UC, a ton of people who were still living in or near Brockton. Most would have heard about the pregnancy, some would have heard about the miscarriage too. The press release with the whole story went out this morning, including to the local Brockton news, but I didn’t know if everyone would have heard. And if they had, I couldn’t imagine anyone would understand. Few of our friends were married or had kids. I didn’t know of anyone who’d had a miscarriage. Maybe they did and I just didn’t know, but still. I couldn’t trust people to be tactful about it, especially if they didn’t get it. What if someone congratulated Pepper about being pregnant because they didn’t know about the miscarriage? What if someone thought she didn’t want it anyway and brushed it off, saying it was for the best? Fuck.
When I parked, Gran told me to stay in the car. Wallace got out from the passenger side and opened Pepper’s door. Pepper was operating like a robot at that moment, so she took Wallace’s hand and let him help her out of the car. She was simply stunning in a clingy dress with swirls of teal and tan. A little bonier than usual, a bit too pale, but still breathtaking. I wanted my wife healthy again. Seeing her like this was tearing me up.
“Jace Vernon Wilder,” Gran said from behind me. She’d scooted up in her seat and poked her head through the space between the two front seats. Bunny was torn up too, but she was back to channeling her inner tough-girl attitude.
“Bernadette,” I replied through the lump in my throat.
“You were white-knuckling the steering wheel.” She called me out.
“This was a bad idea. People are going to bombard her. She’s so fragile, Buns. What if she’s not ready? What if this breaks her more?” Was that even possible? What would that look like? “Fuck.” I slammed a frustrated fist into the steering wheel.
“Jace. This needs to run its course. But we also have to get her out of the house. If she missed this wedding, she’d be upset. Maybe not right away, but she would be. She needs to be here. You can’t protect her from the world, Jace. You know this. You have to let her live. People will say the wrong things.” I cringed at the reality. “They will. Pepper is strong. She’s dealt with people saying the wrong things for a long time, with you as her guy,” Bunny reminded me with a knowing tilt of her head. “She’ll be just fine.”
I nodded. “I know. It fucking hurts to know how bad she hurts,” I admitted, needing to unload it on someone. Gran nodded too, knowing exactly how I felt.
“Let’s drink some bourbon. It’s a bourbon kind of night and Frankie told me they’d have a yummy selection. Wallace will drive us home.”
I got out and held Pepper close as we walked to an old barn. The view of the Rocky Mountains from out here was unreal. In Brockton, the view of the foothills wasn’t as dramatic. Beautiful, yes, but not nearly as breathtaking as the snowcapped mountains far off in the distance from the plains. I glanced at Pepper and saw her taking it in. She registered the beauty and that gave me hope. When she squeezed my hand, I decided we’d done the right thing coming tonight. I wanted my Pepper back. People could be insensitive, and they would be, but we already knew it was a cruel world at times. At least we had each other and our family of close friends in Brockton. At least Brockton would be home again, for the long-term.
Turned out I didn’t need to worry. Though the press release announcing my trade to the Stallions wasn’t coming until Monday, the news had spread like wildfire. I’d told Frankie two days ago that I’d be signing the final version the next day. With everything going on for the wedding, I doubted he was the one to spread the word. It could have been the coaches, an agent who caught wind, an assistant – it wasn’t something we were keeping too hushed. After all, I wasn’t playing around, pitting teams against each other to get the biggest deal. As soon as I’d dropped Drake from involvement, I’d gone straight to the Stallions and told them to get it done. People were more interested in the news of me joining the team than they were about our personal life, or at least, it gave them something else to talk about with me that wasn’t painful.
I’d watched Pepper throughout the ceremony, sandwiched between Bunny and Angel. She was there, but she wasn’t. I wanted to gather her up, shake life back into her somehow, but I knew I had to be patient. I fucking sucked at patience.
After the ceremony, there were pictures with the wedding party, and then some with friends. I didn’t know if Pepper managed to turn her lips up in a smile for the photographer, but she stood there beside me and endured it. Throughout cocktail hour, I sensed the attention circling us. I was used to being the center focus at social gatherings, that was just our reality, but tonight it made me uneasy. This party was filled with NFL players and supermodels, which already should have dispersed some of the attention. Sure, we were new, the rumors of me joining the team fresh, but this was Frankie and Lizzie’s wedding. People should be focused on them. It pissed me off.
A waiter came by with champagne and I contemplated snagging one for Pepper. She might sip on some bubbly if it was in her hand, just to go with the flow. I could tell she was in robot mode, going through the motions. Maybe a little alcohol would help? Bunny made the decision for us when she bustled over with a tray of glasses filled with amber liquid. She placed it on the high-top table beside us.
“Wallace wanted to stay to hit on the bartender. She’s got big–” Bunny made circle motions by her chest and gave us wide eyes.
Wallace shrugged. “I was just being a gentleman. Ain’t easy running an open bar with all these hooligan kids around.”
Pepper’s stance at my side softened, and I was grateful the banter was calming her a bit. Bunny handed us each a glass and raised hers in the air. “To marriage.”
Pepper, who hadn’t uttered a word since we arrived, repeated the toast along with me before taking a tentative sip. Bunny winked at me as we threw ours back.
When I saw Stephanie Bremer eyeing us, I quickly looked away. I didn’t want to give her an opening to
come over here. She’d rubbed me the wrong way both times I’d interacted with her. But it was too late; a moment later, she appeared with Troy at her side.
Ignoring Bunny and Wallace, she greeted us with the same borderline-inappropriately familiar hugs and exuberance she did at Frankie’s fundraiser back in February.
Troy congratulated me with a handshake on joining the team but didn’t say more. It’d be nice if he’d acknowledge I’d been hired to fill his shoes; it would ease some awkwardness and tension. He hadn’t officially announced this was his last season, but everyone knew it.
Stephanie zeroed in on Pepper and my spine straightened. “Boy, a lot has changed for the two of you since we saw you, what? Less than four months ago. I’m so sorry to hear about your loss,” she said, without an ounce of sincerity. I pulled Pepper closer to me, wishing I could stop whatever was going to escape Stephanie’s lips next. “Don’t worry, sweetie.” She patted Pepper on the arm, and Pepper went rigid against me. “At least it was early on. You’ll have another. Well, if you stop running so much maybe you will. I’m sure that didn’t help. Now that you’re ready for family life, you can stick by your husband’s side like we talked about, hmm?”
My fists clenched and for the first time in my life, I had an urge to punch a woman. I’d met some awful women, but what she just said would stab my wife right in the gut when she had no shields up to protect herself. It was going to be irreversible.
