Callum

I can’t believe my eyes.

At first, I wonder if my mind's playing tricks on me again or if she’s really standing there looking as perfect as the day she told me she didn’t love me anymore. Then I notice her belly, and I know this is real because even in my most drawn out, fucked up fantasies, I’ve never imagined her pregnant.

Why would I?

I don’t want a kid.

Not anymore.

Maybe at one point in my life, when I thought she loved me and that we were going to grow old together, I would have been excited about the thought of a family.

But not now.

I just got started in my career, and I’m on my way to becoming the next Peyton Manning. A kid would ruin all that. Of course, suggesting she needs money for an abortion probably wasn’t the best idea either, but I couldn’t think past the feel of her soft as fuck fingers against my skin and the belly sticking out past her hips. I opened my mouth, and whatever I was thinking just blurted out.

She left me again.

She’s getting really good at that walking away thing. When she wakes up, I should ask her how she manages not to care so easily. It sure as fuck would make my life a hell of a lot simpler if I could get her out of my head and out of my fucking heart.

“Mr. Johnson?” A tall, blonde woman with come fuck me breasts calls my name.

“Yes?” I stand and walk over to her, rolling my eyes at the way she scans up and down my body like I’m some sort of delicacy and she is starving to try me. She stands taller, arching her ass out and pushing her breasts forward, not that they need any help in being noticed. Her cheeks blush a bright pink hue that I would find adorable if I could think of anyone or anything other than Amelia. I wait for her to speak, but she seems to be unable.

“How is she?” I ask, hoping to prod something from her bright red sealed lips.

“Oh, the patient. Yes. She is fine. We have her in a room now, if you would like to see her.” She offers the last as an offhand comment, hoping that I won't accept the offer.

“Thanks.” I stick my hand out, gesturing for her to lead the way. I don’t know if she is a nurse or an intern here or what, but I refuse to speak to her about Amelia any more. I want to see the doctor.

Now.

We walk down a series of hallways, making numerous turns left and then right. I’m starting to wonder if she is taking me in circles, hoping I'll change my mind, when we finally come to stand outside door number 340, where she pauses one more time. I raise my eyebrows questioningly and give a gentle shake of the head when she finally moves out of the way.

Nothing against the poor girl, but she just isn't my type. No one is. Unlike some people, I can't just take a beating and get back up on the proverbial horse. Not off the field, anyway.

My heart, mind, and body still belong to someone else.

No matter how much I wish that weren't the case.

I take a deep breath and push the door open. God bless her. My heart breaks at the sight before me. She looks completely helpless, lying there hooked to countless machines. One of them is wrapped around her stomach and leads straight to a monitor with squiggly lines across it. I have no idea what any of them are. I don’t care. The only thing I care about is the fact that she is okay.

“Hey,” I say, catching her attention.

She jumps when she hears my voice, and I feel bad for the way we left things the last time we talked. The thought that something could have happened to her and that would have been the last thing I ever said to her will haunt me for a while.

“Hey?” She asks, clearly curious about my presence in her room. I’m about to explain when the man of the hour walks in.

“Miss Hart. How are you feeling?”

“Better. How’s my baby?” She asks, and I feel like an ass for not asking before now.

“Everything on the monitor looks good, but we are going to get a quick ultrasound just to make sure. You had a little bleeding when you came in, and we need to make sure it’s nothing significant.”

“Ok.” Her voice sounds so small and weak at the moment that I don’t care if she doesn’t love me or doesn’t want me. I can’t let her deal with this all alone. Walking to the edge of the bed, I take her hand in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing each of her knuckles one by one before pressing my lips to the back of her hand.

“It’s ok. I’m here for you.” She smiles up at me through eyes glistening with tears and nods her head. It’s a small nod, barely noticeable, but after spending almost every day for the last five years with her, I’m in tune with every one of her body’s movements.

The doctor pulls her gown up to just below her tits and squirts some slimy liquid on her stomach, then he places some stick-like thing against her belly. I swear, it almost looks like a fucked up shaped dildo. Before I know it, there is a rustling sound on the screen across the bed, and a blurry shape comes into focus. I can almost make out a foot, or maybe it’s a hand. Hell, I don’t know for sure. I just know it’s a baby.

My baby.

“The baby looks good. Her heart rate is excellent. I’m going to get a few measurements, but I don’t think the fall hurt you or her. More than likely, it scared you more than anything else. However, you were spotting earlier. Now it could be nothing, but I want you to keep an eye on things, and if you notice any more, you should come back in immediately. We don’t want something to happen and leave you at risk of losing the baby, and if you’re not careful, even your life.”

“What does she need to do?” I ask. I know it’s not my place to step in and ask these questions, but under no circumstances am I prepared to live in a world where she doesn’t exist. Even if she can't be mine.

“I suggest taking it easy the next week. Light bed rest and vaginal rest. No penal penetration. It will be difficult, and I know, exhausting, but in the end, nothing is worth losing your life or that of your child’s.”

“Okay,” Amelia answers, and I can tell she is in shock with what the doctor is telling her. She doesn’t know what to say or to do, and I hate to see her like this.

Vulnerable.

Lost.

“Would you like a few pictures to take home? She’s in the perfect position for some great candid shots.”

“Her? I’m having a girl?” she asks, and I swear, my heart clenches in a knot at the joy I see instantly replacing the fear and unease that were there only moments before.

“Did you not know?”

“No. This is the first ultrasound I’ve had. I had to change doctors when I moved to the city, and things got delayed.”

“I’m so sorry. Yes. You are having a little girl.”

He prints us out several black and white pictures of the little girl and then leaves the room to write up Amelia’s discharge paperwork. She climbs from the bed and starts getting dressed while silently brushing tears from her face. It kills me to see her hurting, and even more so because I don’t know why she is. I don’t know what to do or what to say, or if I even have a place to say anything anymore. She pushed me away.

And I left.

Fate is sometimes twisted, and all it takes is for you to open your eyes and pay attention. Sometimes, that second chance you’ve wished for drops in your lap, and all you have to do is snatch it up.

I plan to do exactly that.

Amelia may not love me, and she may not want me, but there is no way in hell she would ever keep me from being a part of my daughter’s life. I know that.

“Brian, have a car pick me up at the hospital in twenty minutes.” Amelia’s head snaps toward me as I push my phone back into my pocket. I can see the anger light her eyes, and I know I’m in for one hell of a fight, but this time, I’m not backing down. This time, I’m not walking away. If she wants a fight, then by God, she will get one.