CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Jake
There’s a moment of tightness, of contraction, then a silence like the catch before inhale becomes exhale.
And then there is pain.
So much fucking pain.
Pain upon pain as unseen hands lift me and a mask covers my nose and mouth.
But the pain is good. The pain is beautiful, because Shane’s face is above me, and her hand is in mine. She’s here, right beside me in the ambulance, telling me that I have to hold on, that I can do this, that I can do anything because I’m strong and she loves me.
She loves me.
She loves me all the way to the hospital, through a surgery I barely remember, then in and out of the days that follow, when I’m feverish but cold, and I feel smoky hands reaching out from that Other place. They poke at the soles of my feet, scratch places I can’t reach, and tease their sharp nails along the hem of my hospital gown, the one Shane says makes her hot because she can’t wait to see me walk around in it with nothing on underneath.
She laughs at the joke, and I laugh with her, even though it hurts. A lot. Especially at first.
I laugh and talk and make plans for the future. I don’t turn my head or feed the shadows. I starve them of my attention, giving every bit of it to Shane, to soaking up the miracle of being alive and in love with her. I barely register the news that Keri confessed to faking the bruises on her neck, to stalking me, threatening and kidnapping Shane, and a host of other violations of the law and human decency. I’m just glad she’s going to be behind bars for a long time and that the people I love are safe.
I film a heartfelt thank you to the first responders who saved my life, assure Coach that I’ll be back on the ice by next season, and introduce Shane to my mother and brothers over terrible pudding and worse coffee from the hospital cafeteria. They love her, of course—she is inherently lovable and I’ll have words with anyone who thinks different—and she loves them.
We part with promises to meet up again for Thanksgiving at my place, since it will be a while before I’m up to traveling, and Shane and I fall asleep in my hospital bed, curled together. The nurses turn a blind eye because I’m almost well enough to go home, and we’re so insanely in love they can tell there will be no reasoning with either of us.
Shane waits until the day we’re leaving the hospital, stepping out into the first bright, airy flurries of the winter, to tell me about the baby.
“You’re pregnant? We’re pregnant?” I blink away a flake that lands on my eyelid, thinking I must have heard her wrong. “How? When? I thought—”
“My IUD slipped out and I didn’t realize,” she says, a nervous hitch in her voice. “I’m so sorry. I know this is a shock. I’ve had time to think about everything, and I’m so happy about it now, but the day I found out, I rocked in a corner for about an hour. So feel free to be shocked or scared or angry or—”
“Why would I be angry?” I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around this—around a baby—but I know I’m not angry.
“Because I told you we were protected and we weren’t?” She clasps her mittened hands beneath her chin. “And because I kept this from you for two weeks? I swear I would have told you sooner, but I didn’t want to do anything to put stress on you when you needed your energy to heal. I saw you dead once, and I really never, ever, ever want to see that again.”
I smile. “Me either.”
“So you understand?” she asks softly. “Why I didn’t tell you?”
“Of course.” The ache in my chest, which has been my constant companion over the past two weeks, fades as warmth spreads through my body. “A baby, huh?”
She nods, a tentative smile curving her lips. “Yeah. My first doctor’s appointment is on Monday. We should be able to see the heartbeat if, you know… If you want to come with me.”
An outraged sound—somewhere between a scoff and a growl—bursts from my lips as I reach out, pulling her close. “If I want to come with you? Are you crazy, woman?”
Her smile finds its legs, stretching wide across her beautiful face. “Maybe a little. I’m already positive it’s a girl, and I want to name her Cersei.”
“That’s a nice name.” I hug her tighter, getting thicker as her curves press against me and the knowledge that she’s carrying my baby thoroughly sinks in.
“It’s from Game of Thrones. She’s a merciless, murderous bitch.”
I tip my forehead closer to hers. “Good. Let’s call her Cersei Medusa Salome, a nice scary name to keep all the boys away.”
She laughs, her breath warm against my lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say, my heart so full I’m not sure it’s possible to be any happier.
“But all kidding aside, we don’t have to make any big decisions now. About names, or anything else. We have time to think and plan and see how we want to do this.”
“Do what?” I ask. “Be a family?”
Her lips press together, and her eyes begin to shine. “You want to be a family? Really?”
“Of course I do.” I kiss her cool cheek, wishing we were already back at my place so I could kiss her everywhere else. “I’m crazy in love with you, Shane Willoughby, and I can’t wait to meet our baby. Sure, I wasn’t expecting to get the whole package—smoking hot, sexy wife and sweet little girl—so soon… But people are always telling me I’m a lucky bastard.”
“I’m a lucky bastard,” she says with a laugh and a sniff. “I can’t believe you’re really mine.”
“Not yet, I’m not.” I wipe a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “You’ve got to put a ring on it, princess. I want a winter wedding, and you, naked under the tree on Christmas morning.”
“Done,” she whispers. Then she kisses me, and it is sweet and sexy and everything I’ll ever need. This woman is my home, my heart, and I can’t wait to promise her every day of the rest of my life.
“Let’s get a cab,” I murmur against her lips. “I need to get you home and under me. I’m finding the news that you’re knocked up with my baby really fucking sexy.”
“No way,” she says with a laugh. “You heard the doctor. No strenuous activity for at least another week or two.”
“Then you can be on top.”
“No.” She pulls away, pointing a firm finger at my chest, inches from where Keri’s bullet nearly hit my heart. “No sex, that’s final.”
“But my cock is totally up for this,” I insist.
She arches a brow. “Your cock is an idiot.”
“An idiot for your sweet, sweet pussy.” I draw her back into my arms as she shakes her head with a long-suffering sigh. “Seriously, though. I’m feeling so much better. It barely hurts to hug you anymore. I can do this. I’m not your normal gunshot victim, Willoughby. My body is a finely tuned, high functioning machine.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can feel her resolve weakening as my fingers curl into her hips through her jeans. “You’re hopeless.”
“No, I’m not.” A wave of gratitude hits me hard, the way those do these days, ever since I fought my way back to this woman. “All I’ve got is hope. And it’s all because of you.”
We kiss some more, and she cries a little, and maybe I do, too. I’m not sure. I only know that I love her more than anything, and I need to show her, need to feel her skin warm against mine and know there’s nothing standing between us.
We kiss in the back of the cab on the way to my place, and by the time we make it up the elevator, we have no choice but to get naked the moment we swing through the door. It’s the most cautious, careful fuck of my life, but it’s also the most beautiful. I make love to my beautiful, sexy, wonderful, extraordinary girl, and each time I make her come it’s a celebration, a victory, a confirmation that everything is once again right with the world.
For now and always.