Tag
Fight For Me
Book 3
By
Catherine Charles
Tag Fight For Me
By Catherine Charles
Copyright 2020 by Catherine Charles
First Digital Publication July 2020
Copyright 2020, Catherine Charles
First Published July 2020
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. The author does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
Published in the United States of America.
ISBN:9798657324044
Photography By 510 Studios
Editing By ProRiskEnterprises.com
Dedication
To my “Gram” and her unapologetic love of Harlequin romance novels; I hope I’ve made you proud.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Other Books By Catherine Charles
About the Author
Book Three
Chapter One
Not Pregnant.
Robert and Liv hold me tightly as I stare down at the test.
Two ugly little words I had grown so used to seeing over the last two years.
As much as I disliked them, I would almost rather see them than the alternative. The alternative was so much worse. The alternative meant an unspeakable pain would follow in the coming weeks, or worse, days.
Robert’s hand is a welcome comfort as he strokes the back of my head. His lips pressed firmly to my crown, his heartbeat the only thing keeping me grounded and in the present. Not allowing myself to be whisked away to some unknown time and place where I actually felt life inside of me. Numb. That’s all I was. Numb to the world around me. Another piece of my heart violently torn apart from me left to blow in the wind somewhere. Soon there would be nothing left of me, just a shell of my former self.
Liv eases back from us and quietly asks, “When was the last time you guys tried?” her voice melancholy and shaky. Besides Robert, she was the only one that went through each negative test and miscarriage with me. Our parents knew, but not like her.
“Liv, I don’t really see how—”
I interrupt Robert’s frustration with the truth. There is nothing to hide from her. She probably knew my cycle better than I did. “Three days ago.”
“Okay. Well, there you go. It’s still early. The test may not register your HCG levels yet.” Her voice is somber with a touch of optimism, always the optimist when she needed to be, but right now I didn’t know what I needed.
I pull away from both of them and make my way outside, taking a seat on one swing of Jackson’s swing set, rocking back and forth. Back and forth, just existing in the hot stale air. It was August and temperatures were still in the upper nineties, even at dusk. The sky was painted in vibrant yellows and oranges, pink where they overlapped as the Texas sun slowly faded behind the horizon. I was lost.
“The women of this family are fearless. We’re strong.” Gram’s last words to me had been on continuous repeat in my mind for the last couple of days as her birthday neared closer. I missed her more than words could describe. I longed to cry into her shoulder, to be held tight, and told everything would be alright. Only she could make the impossible seem possible. She had a sixth sense about her.
“Aunty Presley?” Jackson’s innocent timber crept over my shoulder and at the sound of his sweet little voice, I looked back in its direction.
“Hey buddy.”
Moving around the swing, he climbed onto my lap, his big brown eyes wide and deep, he had the kind of eyes you could lose yourself in, the kind that seemed to hold the answers to all of life’s unanswered questions, if you could only swim down deep enough. “Aunty Presley? Why are you so sad?” His little eyes darted back and forth between mine searching for answers.
How do you explain something so grown up to a two-year-old? This wasn’t his burden to bear. He was hopeful, but there’s no way he could understand the magnitude of the situation. I breathe in deep to calm the ache I felt and attempted to exhale the pain and sorrow that was threatening to bubble out of me. “Oh, buddy.”
“Is it because of what I said? About the special baby?”
I held him tighter, my arms wrapped around him, threatening to crush him. This was my burden, not his. I would not place my sorrows on him. “No, sweetie.”
“The angel told me it was her birthday gift to you. She said you don’t get presents in heaven and she wanted to give it to you. Do you think that’s true? No presents in heaven?”
I laugh at his sweet innocence. I watch his expression as he tries to comprehend a birthday party with no presents. “I don’t know sweetie, but it’s always nice to give other people gifts.”
“Does that mean I have to give my presents away on my birthday?” His bottom lip quivers. Pulling him to my chest, I kiss the top of his head. If this was all I was gifted, moments like these with my best friend’s little boy, then these were the moments I would make count. “Oh, no, sweetie. You can keep all your presents. No one will expect you to give them away.”
His worry faded away; jubilation etched upon his smiling face. “Oh, good!”
I watch as he animatedly wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. The sweetest little boy with such a vibrant personality. I can't help but laugh as my heart, for a moment, swells, knowing I eased him of his worries.
“Speaking of your birthday, what do you want Uncle Robert and me to get you?”
He springs from my lap and stands front and center. Excitement coursing through his veins as he frantically waves his arms in the air and stumbles over his words, speaking about a mile a minute. “I want a real-life Lightning McQueen race car that drives and flies
through the air and says CACHOW!” His arm arches over his head as he speaks to emphasize his point. Eyes bigger than saucers, and a grin that stretches from ear to ear. His chest heaves from his lengthy description, the result of not breathing in a rush to get everything out just right.
My eyes widen, watching him and taking in all of his excitement. “Real life, huh?”
“Yep!”
“And just who’s gonna drive it?”
Confidently he brings his thumb to his chest, shoulders back and standing proudly, “ME!”
I chuckle at his confidence. “We’ll see what we can do, okay?”
“Thanks, Aunty Presley!” Liv calls to him from the patio and he takes off running, calling back over his shoulder, “Bye baby,” before giving Robert a jumping high five as they pass each other in the yard.
I turn back to the sunset, a fingernail-sized sliver is all that remains of the autumn sun. Out of my peripheral I catch Robert take a seat in the swing next to me, any other day I would have laughed at the giant in the child’s swing, but tonight I can't find any humor left in me.
“How are you doing out here?” The timber in his voice is raspy, the unmistakable scratch of disappointment.
“I want to go to the hospital. Liv’s right. The HCG factor may be too low to detect right now. I want to go get blood work done.”
He rocks back in the swing, his heals dug into the lush green grass causing his movements. “Okay. We’ll go first thing in the morning.”
“No. I want to go now.” I’m resolved in my decision and I won't be changed. If something is there, I want to know now. Tomorrow may be too late.
“Presley, it’s seven on a Sunday night. You know our doctor won't be there.”
“Then we’ll get a new one.” I stand from my position on the swing. “I’m going whether or not you’re coming.” I head towards the house, my ears trained on the man behind me; a defining silence is all that’s heard. Pivoting back to him, I can't hold my emotions anymore: anger, grief, pain, anxiety, hopefulness, longing, despair. Each one spills from my eyes in the form of watery anguish. “We have tried for over two years and have had five miscarriages. An almost three-year-old is adamant I’m pregnant and tells me it’s Gram’s birthday gift to me.”
Robert’s eyes widen at the revelation.
“I’m done being reasonable! I can't do this anymore.” I don’t know when my voice moved from what I would consider a normal level to that of a crazed lunatic, but I can't sit idly by anymore. I’m done being strong. I want to be weak. I want someone else to carry this burden.
I give up and fall into a crumpled mess in the middle of the lawn. The crunching of leaves under Robert’s hurried steps is my salvation. He’s here. Despite everything, he’s here. His strong, protective arms wrap around me pulling me into his chest. Soft, pained vibrations convey his pain. I’m not alone. “I constantly feel like a disappointment. Like I’m letting you down. That I’m not good enough. I go to bed worried you will leave because I can't give you what you want. I feel like I’ve failed, not only as a wife, but as a woman.” The words make their existence known through broken sobs and pained breath.
“Look at me, Pres.” The burden upon my shoulders is too much to bear, the sheer magnitude weights on me as if I were Atlas, condemned to hold the heavens upon my back. “Presley, look at me.”
Despite the choke in his voice, Robert is calm and tender, lifting my chin with his forefinger. “You have never let me down. You are so much better than what I deserve. I will never leave you no matter what we may go through. And you have never, ever failed in anything you have ever done.” His lips brush against mine, tender and soft, “Go get in the truck. I’ll tell Trey we’re leaving.”
He helps me up and I drudgingly make my way towards the truck. The air heavy in the cab as I stare out the passenger window. Nothing needs to be said. Robert doesn’t try to fill the void with vacant words. I’m lost, stuck between hope and despair.
* * *
I’m left alone, standing in the bathroom with Liv. A mix of emotions coursing through my veins, the strongest is helplessness. Helpless to help her. Helpless to carry this burden alone. Every few months we try. Every few months it’s another doctor visit, another test, blood draws and needle sticks.
“I can’t even imagine what she’s going through.” Liv’s comment is nothing more than a whisper as she stares out the bathroom window looking into the backyard. Presley just exists. Long gone is the girl I met in high school. Gone is the woman that kicked my ass back into shape. Gone is laughter. Gone is my Presley. Gone is my light.
“Well, tell your kid to keep his mouth shut. Can't you see she doesn’t need this right now?” I snap back at Liv. Gone is my patience with the outside world, those that try to offer encouragement. They have no idea the pain, the hell, that lives within the walls of our home.
“Excuse me!” Liv draws out, “I didn’t put Jax up to any of this! I had no idea he was gonna mention a baby to her. The first time I heard anything about a ‘special baby’ was when Presley heard it.” Special is put in air quotations. The word itself is said as if it were something poisonous. If ever there was hatred for a word, it could be felt and heard from her. She turns from the window, her eyes locked onto mine as she makes her way back to me. Her hands rubbing the length of my arms reassuringly. “I know this has been just as hard on you as it has been on her.”
The truth to her words stings at my eyes.
“Maybe even worse.”
I choke back the lump swelling against my throat, dipping my head and resting it in the crook of her neck, there’s no use hiding it anymore. I don’t have to hide from her, not when she’s giving me this time to grieve. “There’s nothing I can do, Liv.” Her arms wrap around my broad back, as I allow myself to feel. “Month after month, she takes those damn tests. Month after month, she is constantly disappointed. And heaven forbid it’s positive. To see her think this time, maybe, just maybe, it might be different. But it’s not Liv, and there’s nothing I can do but watch her suffer through it and try to comfort her. We’ve been to doctor after doctor, and they can’t figure it out either. I can't fix this, Liv. She fixed me, and now I’m helpless when it comes to her.”
Liv’s arms wrap tighter around me. Holding me as I mourn in the quietness of her bathroom. “Robert. You know Trey and I are always here for you guys. Whatever you need. Whatever you want. We’re here for you.”
A few more minutes pass and I force myself to regain control. “Thank you Liv,” I utter while drying my eyes, splashing water over my face to erase my pain before making my way to Presley.
Liv clears her throat as I dry my face. “Robert, I have said nothing to Presley about this, but Trey and I talked, and after the twins are born and I’m given the all clear, I’d like to be a surrogate for you and Presley, that is, if it’s something you guys would be interested in. We know how much you both want a mini you or Pres, and Trey and I want that for you both as well.”
I stand there shocked at her offer. Such a selfless gift, I’m stunned into near speechlessness. “Liv, I don’t know what to say.”
“You need not say anything, Robert. I’m at least a minimum of six months away from being able to do anything, but I wanted you to know first. You can mention it to Presley when the time is right, just know it’s a standing offer. Six months or six years, if you need me, I’m here for both of you.”
My eyes catch Presley out the bathroom window. She’s sitting on the swing, Jax wrapped tightly in her arms. She’s amazing with him and I know she would be an unbelievable mother, even if the children weren’t biologically ours. “I’m gonna go check on her. And Liv, I’m sorry for what I said about Jax.”
“I know you’re frustrated, Robert. It’s easy to see how much you love that little boy. No hurt feelings on my end.”
I give her a mustered smile as she pats my back on the way out of the bathroom.
* * *
I climb into the driver’s seat of my ne
w all black Ford Raptor, mud tires, dark tinted windows, and a five-inch lift make the beast look as though it was sent straight from hell, fitting since that’s where Presley and I seem to be right now. She doesn’t say two words the entire drive to the hospital, there is nothing left to say that hasn’t been said before. Fingers intertwined over the center console offer the only form of support.
It started raining on the drive in. The fine mist was now a steady pour. I drop Presley off at the front door, my eyes never leaving her as I watch what once was a strong, confident woman, look frail and helpless. By the time I get inside, they have already taken her back for blood work. I’m told to wait in the lobby, and she’ll be out shortly.
I take a seat in a sea-foam pleather waiting room chair. White walls, recycled air, the smell of disinfectant and bleach—I was never a fan of hospitals, but now, after two years, they have somehow become a second home to us. Some reality show is playing on the mounted television in the corner, a woman tries to sooth a screaming infant, and an older man sits with a blood-soaked towel around his hand. I try to focus on anything besides the cream double doors that I know Presley is behind. I rest my head in my hands, elbows placed firmly on my knees, and close my eyes against the ticking wall clock. Time stands still. I wait.
After what feels like just seconds Presley emerges, speaking sweetly to a nurse, thanking her for her time. She forces a smile and I’m blown away by her outward appearance. Just by looking at her you would never guess she was currently engulfed in her own personal agony. She takes the seat next to me and I straighten out. Her arms wrap around my bicep as she rests her head on my shoulder, and as if she could read my mind she whispers, “Now we wait.”
I nod before firmly kissing her forehead.
Seconds feel like minutes. Minutes feel like hours. Hours feel like an eternity. And after what feels like forever, a nurse finally comes out calling Presley’s name. We follow her through the cream double doors and down a series of maze-like hallways. Soon the hospital halls give way to business-like hallways as she escorts us into the office of a one, Dr. Ward.
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