by Ali Dean
Chapter Twenty
Pepper
It’s like a bucket of ice has been dumped on my head. A heavy one. Because it shocks and freezes me, but it hurts too. I sense Jace shift beside me and expect him to lash out somehow, since I’m incapable of a retort. Instead, Gran steps from behind Troy. The Bremers blocked out Wallace and Gran when they entered our space, but Gran’s not having it. I’ve never seen her look so pissed in all our lives. Her face is red, eyes blazing. And then her hand reaches out and slaps Stephanie right across the cheek. As Stephanie sputters in outrage, Wallace snags a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and calmly nudges a stunned Troy Bremer to the side to dump it on Stephanie’s head.
Stephanie’s mouth is open in shock and Troy tries to soothe her with a pat on her back, urging her to go to the ladies’ to freshen up. He doesn’t defend her, and he even looks a little bit smug, or possibly amused, I can’t tell which.
“How dare you! Who do you think you are? Who are these people?” She’s screaming, gesturing wildly at Wallace and Bunny.
Bunny gets on her tiptoes and points a little finger at her. “I’m Pepper’s gran, Bernadette Jones. And this is my husband, Wallace. And I already know who you are. And I don’t care. I don’t tolerate no one talking to Pepper like that.” Gran looks ready to say more but Wallace places a hand on her lower back and she calms.
I notice the chatter around us has stopped, and everyone is staring in fascination. No one comes to Stephanie’s rescue and her husband manages to drag her away, taking advantage of her state of disbelief.
I’ve been shocked right back into reality.
The Walkers and the Snyders join us a moment later, Angel and Leah clapping lightly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for years. Don’t know what prompted it, but I have no doubt she deserved it,” Angel declares with a wink in Wallace and Gran’s direction. “I’m Angel Walker, this is my husband Tanner.”
Bunny shakes herself and engages in introductions all around with the Snyders too. Jace’s hold hasn’t loosened around me. Actually, he’s holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. Wallace raises his hand. “I think more drinks are in order after that ordeal.” He marches toward the bar.
Gran watches him go. “He was just looking for an excuse to flirt with the bartender. Got his wish.”
“Her boobs are huge,” Angel loud-whispers. Leah giggles and blushes.
We sat by them at the ceremony, and they said they were sorry and also congratulations for joining the Stallions. I acted weird, I know I did. I think I just kind of grimaced at them. I was scared if I spoke, I’d start crying, so I just didn’t say anything. Now, I’m just thankful they aren’t avoiding us. Even if I’m not ready to act normally, I still want everyone else to act normally around me. Which really doesn’t make much sense, but not much does at the moment.
As Gran makes new friends with the Walkers and the Snyders, Jace remains frozen, his arms squeezing me tight. He knows I’m internalizing every word Stephanie said. Letting it eat away at me, turn me inside out. She’s voiced exactly what was lying just beneath the surface of the paralyzing pain. As soon as I broke through that, I’m facing an onslaught of new emotions. And these ones might hurt worse. Guilt, self-loathing, and a new kind of grief for the loss of running. Will I ever find joy in it again? It feels tainted. Racing an Olympic Trials qualifying time while seven weeks pregnant? Of course that’s what killed Baby Wilder. And then I didn’t even stop. I kept running. Not hard, but I know that it was my fault. My selfishness to do what I love, even when my body couldn’t take it. Sure it wasn’t hurting these past few weeks, but I fainted. That should have told me everything I needed to know. Baby Wilder didn’t want me to run.
We’re at an assigned table with some of the wedding party for dinner, and I simply can’t engage. People try to bring me into the conversation, but I can hardly process what they’re asking me. It’s all a dull buzzing noise around me as my head seeks that dark numbness it’s been in all week. Not numbness exactly, the pain doesn’t go away, but it’s safer than facing all these happy, boisterous people.
As soon as the speeches are over, Jace takes my hand and tugs me through the tables, all the way out of the barn into the dark night.
He places two sturdy palms on my shoulders. “Pepper, talk to me.” His voice breaks as his eyes search mine, and he pleads, “Please.”
I shake my head, unwilling to do this. Not here, not now. Not ever. I don’t want him to placate me. He’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know. I need to be here in this dark place alone. I deserve the self-hatred I’m inflicting on myself. But even as I think that, watching Jace suffer breaks something else inside me, and before I know it, my lower lip is trembling with the effort not to cry.
I don’t say anything, but he knows. He knows exactly what I’m thinking and feeling and he won’t let me suffer alone. Jace shakes his head. “No, Pep. You are not blaming yourself for this. This can happen for all kinds of reasons out of your control, and it was weeks after you raced. It came on out of nowhere.” Jace shakes me as he speaks, enunciating each word with urgency. He’s trying to get through to me, but I don’t want to let him in.
“The ER doc said it was most likely spontaneous. Not from a traumatic event. It was not. Your. Fault.”
Tears stream down my face. It was my fault. “Jace. You’re wrong. I traumatized the baby when I raced. I got so dehydrated I fainted. If I hadn’t done that,” I gasp for breath and my hand goes to my stomach, “we’d still have a baby,” I finish quietly. “So don’t tell me something that’s not true.”
Jace drops his hands from my shoulders and glares at me, begging me to see it his way. I glare right back.
I don’t know how long we stand there, me with tears drying on my face, Jace standing a foot away, looking furious. He’s right there in front of me but could be miles away. There’s a party with hundreds of people on the other side of the door, yet I’ve never felt so alone.
A couple stumbles out the door, breaking the silent battle. The girl giggles as the guy throws an arm around her, mumbling about a gazebo they can go to. I don’t know them but when they spot us, there’s recognition in their eyes.
“Oh, hey man,” the guy says, straightening up and nodding at Jace. “Everything okay?”
Does it look like it? I want to shout. I’m crying, we’re not touching. Keep moving, buddy.
I’m angry at their carefree attitudes, their flirtations, the way they seem to be enjoying each other and having fun. It feels like I’ll never go back to that place again. It feels so very far away. Irrelevant.
Jace juts out his chin. “Hey. Fine.”
The guy gets the hint and the girl ducks her head as they walk quickly in the direction of the gazebo or wherever to get away from us and back to their flirty cocoon. I hear the girl ask, “That’s Pepper and Jace Wilder, right?”
When I see Jace’s taut body sag, his shoulders slumping, I relax. I shouldn’t be relieved at his defeat. I should be feeling something for his own pain. He can’t control this situation and that’s killing him. Normally I’d try to console him, but I just can’t. He doesn’t understand the weight I’m carrying on my chest right now. The grief and anger directed inward. There’s no room for empathy, no space to feel anything outside myself. I barely registered the joy filling the air at the ceremony. Hardly processed fury toward Stephanie for being a bitch. Gran and Wallace’s throwdown should have done more than caused me to evaluate everyone else’s reaction. I should have been amused, embarrassed, grateful. It’s like I’m an outsider, recognizing what should be happening, but unable to fully experience it firsthand.
When I shiver from the slight chill outside, Jace places a firm hand on my back and leads me inside again. I play my part, eating cake, dancing, hugging Frankie and Lizzie with a smile on my face, and keeping clear of the Bremers to avoid further drama.
Jace does not leave my side. He even hovers outside the ladies’ room when I’m in there. Despite the emotional d
istance between us, I find I need him close by. I don’t understand it, but his presence keeps me from unraveling. Helps me maintain the façade. Right, I’m not doing the best job at pretending, but at least I’m here, interacting somewhat normally without crying at every turn. It feels like a real feat.
When we get home, I sit on the bed and watch Jace take off his tux. It’s a monumental tease seeing him undress in our bedroom, and the guilt in my heart only intensifies as heat stirs in my belly. The man is simply too handsome, too perfectly sculpted, and his love for me is too flawless. I’ve never been more broken than I am right now, yet he still looks at me with adoration. Frustration too, but he’s trying to be patient. Will I break him down? Will I destroy the way he loves me, or will it destroy him first? I know that it can’t end any other way but with more pain. I don’t see how we can go back to being like that couple headed to the gazebo, nothing but hope ahead of us.
Jace is standing in his boxer briefs, taking in the confusion and lust I’m sure is radiating from me in waves. The crease between his brows and bulge under his briefs tells me he feels the same way. I swallow. “I’m not ready.” I don’t know how to tell him that I don’t know if I ever will be. How can I explain to the man who loves me that I don’t feel like I deserve his lovemaking? That I don’t deserve the chance of more Wilder babies, that even as I’m hot with need, the idea of doing the very act that led us to this heartbreak sends panic and maybe even disgust right through me?
Jace’s eyes close briefly. I can’t read him right now. Is he angry? Sad? Annoyed? Disappointed? He walks toward me and crouches in front of me. He slides one cowboy boot off my foot, then the other. His eyes remain on my legs as his hands run from my ankle all the way up to my hips. My breath hitches when he starts to pull my underwear down. Lifting my hips, I keep my eyes on him, trying to figure out what he’s doing. He’s being so damn gentle, and it’s wearing me down. Is that his intent?
He gets off the ground, but only to come around and place his knees behind me, unzipping the back of my dress and letting it fall to my waist. He pauses, and the only sound is our ragged breathing. I wish more than anything I wasn’t so turned on right now. I’m putty, each brush of his fingertips like a jolt straight to my core. When he unclasps my bra, freeing my breasts, the air on my skin alone makes me shudder. Lips brush my shoulder, then the spot under my ear, and I almost moan.
“I’ll get your pajamas,” he whispers.
Oh. Okay, he wasn’t trying to work me up. Well, he damn well did. Jace hops off the bed, finds clean boy shorts and a soft tee in my drawer and tosses them to me. Gentle attentive Jace is gone as he goes to his own dresser to pull off his underwear and put on a fresh pair. He’s turned sideways from me, but I don’t miss the angry hard-on jutting from his body. I grimace. It looks painful.
If I can’t let him love me how he wants to, and I can’t let him in emotionally, at least I can give him some relief. I stand up, letting the dress fall all the way to the floor, and walk to him fully naked. My hand reaches for his wrist to stop him from putting on new boxer briefs.
When I drop to my knees, Jace tries to protest. “Pepper, you don’t have to do that.” Yeah, he definitely sounds like a guy in agony.
“Let me, Jace. It’s all I can give you right now.” When my mouth touches him, he can’t stop me. Jace leans his frame against the wall with a sigh of relief as I take him. I try to ignore the pulsing between my own legs as I pleasure my husband, but it’s not easy. It doesn’t take long for Jace to come in my mouth, and when I taste him deep in my throat, I have to battle my own release threatening to erupt. Simply by having this connection after nearly two weeks without it, I’m on fire. But I can’t give in. Instead, I relish my own physical distress as I slip into my sleep clothes, brush my teeth, and climb into bed.
When Jace reaches for me under the covers, I take his hand and stop it from traveling lower. I’ve felt entirely too much as it is tonight. I need him beside me, but I can’t handle that kind of touch.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jace
Pepper retreated back into herself after the wedding. She came out of her room to eat meals, if a few bites here and there counted, and then went back to bed. I was about ready to lose my fucking mind. I’d asked Lexi and Zoe to come over to talk to her, to try to get her out of the house, on a walk, anything. They’d returned a few times to try to hang out with her but she’d barely engaged. Then I tried Coach Harding, and had the same response. I was tempted to cycle all of her friends, from Wes to Jenny Mendoza, maybe even Ryan. I was desperate. My wife was in a deep depression and I didn’t know how to pull her out of it. Another week had passed since the wedding without her leaving the house.
As I hovered over Pep, pulling my hair out with helplessness, my dad was trying to get me out of the house. He said I couldn’t be there for Pepper if I was a mess myself, but I couldn’t leave her. We were connected by the same loss, like a cord, and however tenuous, I had this feeling that she’d know if I went further than one room over from her. That me being close was absolutely necessary to Pepper’s well-being. It was a strange, visceral sensation, almost like it was straight out of some supernatural movie, where we’d get sick if we were too far apart. Wasn’t that in some movie? Shit. Maybe I was starting to lose it. Maybe Dad was right and I needed to get outside, get some exercise, do something besides pace.
I’d been fielding Pep’s calls and when I saw Dr. Burch’s office calling, I hurried out of the bedroom to answer. It was a nurse.
“Is Ms. Wilder available, please?”
“Um, actually, this is her husband, Jace Wilder. Is there something I can help you with?” I asked. I heard the nurse shuffling around some papers.
“Ah, Jace Wilder. Yes. Pepper listed you as someone we can share her medical information with.”
I held my breath as I waited for her to get to the point.
“Pepper missed her ultrasound appointment today. It was at one o’clock. We can try to reschedule the appointment later this week.”
Thank fuck Pepper didn’t answer the phone. “That won’t be necessary. Pepper had a miscarriage a little over two weeks ago. One of us should have notified your office, canceled the appointment, but…” Neither one of us were in a state to do it after the ER visit, and then it didn’t even occur to me. Of course, the ER isn’t connected to the OBGYN office, so they never would have known.
“Oh dear. I’m so sorry for your loss. Dr. Burch will want to see Pepper to follow up. Is she available to make an appointment?”
“Uh, actually, Pepper’s not doing so well. She hasn’t left the house since this happened. Except for a wedding. She won’t run, hardly eats, and won’t, um, do anything else that makes her happy. Can Dr. Burch maybe recommend someone she can see for depression in this situation?” I was uneasy sharing this information with a stranger, but I was desperate. Pepper needed help beyond what I could give her.
The nurse squeezed Pepper into Dr. Burch’s schedule the next day, telling me that Dr. Burch would evaluate her before referring her to someone else. I hoped I could get Pepper to the appointment. When I turned back down the hallway, I found Pepper standing in the doorway to our bedroom.
“We missed the ultrasound, didn’t we?” she asked.
Shit. I walked quickly to her, not bothering to answer.
Pepper fell into my arms, and I caught her. She hadn’t cried since Saturday night but a dam burst open in that moment. “It hurts. It hurts so bad,” she said, sobbing into my chest. My heart broke for her as I rubbed her back, wishing I could make it all go away.
“I know. I know, Pep.”
I let her cry for minutes, until her body grew weak in my arms, and she didn’t have any tears left in her.
“I heard what you said.” She pulled back, wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of one of my old sweatshirts. “That I need help.”
When I started to respond she shook her head. “No, you’re right. I can’t keep going like this. I don’t k
now what to do. But I know I need to try. For you. For us. For Gran. I can’t stay in here forever.” She sniffled and let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I want to, but that’s not living. And I need to figure out how to start living again.”
Her admission nearly made my knees buckle with relief. If she could see this much, there was hope she’d come back to me.
“But I want you to come with me to see someone. I don’t want to talk to some stranger about everything without you there, too. When do you have to travel again?”
I blinked in confusion. “I’m not traveling anymore. Well, not until our first away game in September, almost four months from now.”
She let out a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Oh yeah. I knew that.” I studied her, wondering if she’d actually forgotten that I’d fired Drake and traded to the Stallions last week, or if she’d just assumed I’d still have publicity events and campaigns out of state.
“I have a new agent now too, same one as Frankie. I’m not going to be traveling much in the off-season anymore, and nothing else the rest of the summer. I’ll be right here, baby. With you. Until training starts, I just have to make it to the gym to work out, and that’s only a couple miles away. You can come,” I offered, wanting to pounce on the opportunity to get her out of the house while she was alert and talking.
She shook her head with a sad little smile. I think she was remembering the last time we shared a workout session in Wes’s basement. I hope she wasn’t thinking that couldn’t happen again. We’d be back to that place, when we rushed through our workouts because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We would. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday. I had to believe it.
Pepper
