She stared at the stick, willing it to show her a result. She’d been arguing with herself for weeks, but when her period didn’t show up for a second month, she bit the bullet and bought a pregnancy test. Combined with her queasy stomach that never seemed to go away and her ability to sleep at the drop of hat, Jasmine told her to get herself to Walgreens and buy a test.
The clerk at the drugstore had given her that knowing look, and Angel told her where she could stick that condescending expression. She hated when people looked at her like that, like she was worth less than a normal person. Yes, she wasn’t married and she might be knocked up, but so what? The world today was full of unmarried mothers.
Her body went cold at the thought. All the bravado in the world wasn’t going to change facts. She wasn’t married, and she might be a single mother. She was only nineteen. How could she be anybody’s mother when she barely knew how to take care of herself? She was a stripper. Pregnant women didn’t strip. What would she do? Get a job flipping burgers? Every cliché scenario she could think of ran a marathon race through her head.
The toilet seat caught her when she sank down, her knees going weak. What the fuck was she going to do? She was barely an adult, just learning about life. How was she going to take care of a tiny human? One who depended on her for everything? Hell, she barely depended on herself.
What the hell was she going to do if that test came back positive?
A baby. Tiny human.
Her hand went to her stomach. A tiny little life growing inside her.
She picked up the stick again. Nothing. Stupid thing.
What would she tell Kade? She used birth control, dammit. They used condoms. There was no way she could be pregnant.
Only there was. When she’d had the stomach flu and skipped her birth control for three days because she’d been too sick to keep anything down. Then there was that one time in the shower. One time. Only one freaking time they hadn’t used a condom, and she’d promised him it would be okay because she was on the pill, not thinking about the previous week.
Oh, God, would the birth control pills hurt the baby? She’d been taking them religiously since then. Could they cause birth defects?
What if Kade was furious? What if he told her to fuck off and he didn’t want any part of it? She didn’t see him as that kind of person, but they’d only been dating for six months. There was still so much she didn’t know about him, so much he refused to talk about. Whenever she tried to talk to him about his family or his past, he shut her down. Never in a mean way, but in a joking manner, and changed the subject.
What if he wasn’t the man she thought he was? What if he was like the boys she knew who would run screaming from the situation?
Did she even want the baby? There were options. Abortion was out of the question. She respected other women’s right to choose, but it was abhorrent to her. Adoption was still open to her. If things didn’t work out between her and Kade, that option was there. A baby deserved a real home with a parent or parents who could give it everything it needed.
Angel grew up with parents who loved her, who sacrificed everything for her and Peter. They had been their parents’ entire world. Could she do that for her child? Could she be that unselfish? Or would she hate the restrictions it put on her? She’d seen what happened to the girls in high school who’d gotten knocked up. Some of them grew to resent their babies because of how much they had to give up.
The last thing she could bear would be to resent her own flesh and blood.
This was driving her crazy. Still no lines on the stick. Had it been fifteen minutes yet? Her watch laughed at her. Eight minutes.
“Out of the bathroom, Angel! I have to get ready for a date.”
Peter pounded on the door, and she ignored him. What was she going to tell her brother? He’d sacrificed everything for her. And here she went and got herself knocked up like every other idiot girl who thought it would never happen to her. She took precautions, dammit, and it still might have happened to her.
Three more minutes ticked by, and she got up and looked at her pale face in the mirror. Tears made wet tracks down her cheeks under red, swollen eyes. How could she be crying without even realizing it? Her breathing slowed, and it became harder and harder to pull air into her lungs. Spots danced in front of her eyes, and she fought for air.
What was happening to her? She gripped the edge of the counter to try to stay upright as the world tilted and started to spin. She blinked several times, a whimper escaping. Panic clawed at her throat and she fell back, unable to stop her legs from folding beneath her.
The resulting crash brought her brother pounding on the door. “Angel? You okay? What happened? Did you fall?”
She tried to say something, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
“Angel? Answer me, dammit!”
She drew in a strangled breath as Peter rattled the door handle. It had to be a panic attack.
Peter’s shoulder hit the bathroom door and it burst inward, hitting her left arm with such force, she fell sideways.
“Oh my God, Angel. What’s wrong?”
He pulled her up, and she winced when he grasped her arm. Damn, but it hurt enough to penetrate the panic. She took a few small breaths and concentrated on breathing, telling herself over and over that she was okay. She made herself focus on the throbbing pain in her arm. Slowly, the world stopped spinning and she could breathe. She blinked several times, ignoring Peter’s attempts to get her to speak. Her gaze zeroed in on the little white stick that had rolled off the countertop when she’d fallen.
One line meant she wasn’t pregnant.
Two lines meant a tiny human nestled under her heart.
She leaned forward and grasped it, closing her eyes. If she looked, that meant it was real. If she simply refused to look, she could go on like nothing was wrong, like nothing had changed.
“Angel, talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?”
She thrust the little white stick at him, unable to look. “What does it say?”
Bewildered, he looked down. “Uh, it doesn’t say anything?”
“How many lines, Peter? How many lines are there?”
Please don’t say it, please don’t say it, please don’t say it.
“Two lines.”
She sagged against the wall. He said it.
A tiny human.
“Is this a pregnancy test?”
She nodded, refusing to look him. What if he looked at her like that stupid cashier had? With scorn, derision, and condemnation?
“Two lines means what?”
“A baby.”
He sat on the floor next to her and leaned his head against hers. “You okay?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t okay. She was never going to be okay again. “I’m scared, Peter. I can’t do this.”
“It’s a scary thing, that’s for sure,” he agreed.
“What am I gonna do?” The waterworks burst and she started to cry, her breath coming out in loud sobs. Her brother pulled her into his lap and rocked her like their dad used to do when she got hurt. He let her cry until she was spent.
“It’s okay, Angel. Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
His soothing words washed over Angel, and it calmed her down a bit. “I’m too young to be a mom, Peter.”
“Yeah, you’re young, but Mom was a year younger when she had me. I think you’re selling yourself short, kid.”
“But what if I don’t want to be a mom?” she whispered, and her stomach cramped up in protest. Shit, could the nugget hear her? No, surely not. It didn’t even have a brain right now, did it? Shit, she had no idea.
Peter stilled, but only for a moment. “I’ll support whatever you want to do. If you don’t want this pregnancy, I’ll go down to the clinic with you, and we’ll face it together. I’m here, kid. Whatever you want, I’m here.”
Angel knew for a fact how he felt about abortion, but he was telling her it was okay if that was what she decided. She hugged him tighter. Despite his own personal beliefs, he put her ahead of himself. That was what brothers were for. That was what he’d done her whole life. He stepped up and did what needed to be done.
“No, Peter. No abortions. I won’t do that.”
His whole body sighed with relief. “Okay, kiddo. Then we’ll deal with it. Have you told Kade?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Don’t you think you need to?”
“What if he acts like an ass and walks away?” She hiccupped.
“Then I’ll beat him bloody, and we’ll never worry about the bastard again. Uncle Peter will make sure the kid never misses a good-for-nothing absent father.”
He always knew just what to say to make her laugh when she was crying. God, what would she do without her big brother?
“Do you really think I can do this?” Peter handed her some tissue he’d snagged from the roll, and she blew her nose. “What if I screw up? I might hurt it accidentally or something.”
“You will screw up. Mom and Dad screwed up. I screwed up all the time…”
“You did not,” she interrupted him. “You were always there, doing exactly what I needed.”
“I was terrified, kid. Every second after Mom and Dad died. Constantly worrying about you, if I was doing what I was supposed to. Remember that first temper tantrum you threw over me grounding you for skipping school? I was so scared you’d hate me forever.”
“I only hated you for about an hour.”
“Trust me, kid, if I can do it, you’re gonna be a pro. And you won’t be by yourself. Kade or no Kade, you and me…” His index finger went back and forth between them. “We’re stuck with each other. I got your back. Always. We’re gonna get through this together.”
“I love you, Peter.”
“I love you too, Shortcake.”
She snorted and a stream of snot shot out, making Peter curse when it landed on his shirt. He hadn’t called her that since she was little. She used to love Strawberry Shortcake, and with her red hair, it was Peter’s nickname for her.
“Nugget’s going to love you too.”
“Nugget?” He looked down at her curiously.
“The baby. I’ve been calling it Nugget since I took the damn test.”
“Nugget. It’s not a bad name until we figure out if it’s a boy or a girl.” He moved to help her off his lap, and she cried out when he grabbed her arm. His face paled. “Shit, Angel, your arm is purple, and it’s swelling.”
“I think that happens when someone smashes a door into one’s arm.”
“Well, fuck. Let’s get you to the emergency room and make sure it’s not broken. We can get you a blood test there too. Sometimes those pregnancy tests are wrong.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, a girlfriend of mine had a scare a while back. She took three and they all said she was pregnant, but her blood test was negative.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You were about twelve at the time. I didn’t tell you everything.”
“I don’t think the test is wrong. My period’s late, two months.”
“It’s gonna be fine. Really. You, me, and the nugget. We got each other’s backs. Promise.”
Listening to Kade, Nikoli, and Victor made Angel think of her own brother. She never let herself think about Peter. She buried memories of him as much as she did those of Kade. The pain was too much. The only way she’d survived it was to lock it all away, to push it down and refuse to let herself think about any of it. It made her colder, harsher, more bitchy. She knew that, but it was how she survived.
She heard Nikoli and Lily downstairs. He refused to go until Kade came home. Angel didn’t have the energy to fight with him. She came upstairs instead and curled up on the bed, her knees hugged against her chest.
She cried. For the first time since Peter’s funeral, she cried for him. His memory was burned in hers, and even though it hurt to think about him, she let herself. Being that near to siblings cracked the vault, and Peter forced his way out. God, how she missed him.
He’d taken all her fear, balled it up in brotherly love, and tossed it away. Being pregnant, barely legal, and unsure of herself scared the hell out of her. He’d made her believe she could do it, that she’d be a good mama. He gave her strength, courage, and resolve. He would tell her to stop feeling sorry for herself, to get up and kick ass.
But he wasn’t here to tell her anything. And she couldn’t make herself move. It was all too much. Her walls were cracking, great chunks of the concrete in the dam around her heart falling down into the raging waters of her emotions swirling back to life.
She blamed Kade. Everything was fine when she’d been able to shut off her emotions, to pretend nothing was wrong. He wouldn’t let her. He didn’t even mean to do it, he just did. He was the only man she’d ever loved. Her heart ached for him, for what they’d had. Her body craved his touch. It refused to behave like a good little soldier.
Like today when he’d rushed in, scared to death. There had been real fear in his eyes, concern. For her. When he walked away from her, he said he’d never loved her, that it had all been a part of the job. He’d needed her to get close to Peter. The baby had just been collateral damage.
Collateral damage.
She slammed her fist into the mattress. Her anger burned bright, but it couldn’t outshine the fear she’d seen today. It reminded her of the same fear when he’d come to the hospital. Peter told him she’d had an accident, and he’d rushed into her hospital room much the same way he had today.
He was a hell of an actor to pull that off. Part of her refused to believe she meant nothing to him, the part that held out the last vestiges of hope. Maybe he cared, maybe he’d always cared.
Then why the fuck would he say such awful things to her and then walk away, she asked her traitorous inner voice. He walked away from us, not the other way around.
A knock broke the solitude of her room, and when the door opened, she didn’t need to look to know who it was. His scent haunted her. She’d know it anywhere. The bed dipped, and she tensed. Why was he here? What did he want? Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? All she wanted was to not have to feel anything, to be able to get up and face the day without a pain so deep it physically hurt to move cutting away at her.
That was what Kade and the memory of them was to her. Pain and grief and rage. It hurt so much. The only way she could live was to forget it all; her survival depended on it. Only how could she do that when he was right there? When he smelled like everything she’d associated with love? He smelled of home, and she couldn’t lie to herself. She loved him. God, she loved this man so much. The man who’d destroyed her life, and she still loved him.
He couldn’t know. He’d destroyed her once. She wouldn’t let him do it again. Her inner voice laughed at her. She knew the truth. She’d never been able to resist him.
She heaved a sob as another wave of despair and pain wracked her, and he moved. He crawled up the bed and pulled her against him. He didn’t say anything. He just held her while she cried. She cried and cried. She cried for Peter, she cried for the nugget, she cried for the man she loved.
She cried.