Chapter Twenty-One
Four weeks later
“Yo, Trent! Watch out!”
He ducked just in time, managing not to concuss himself on the bookcase that was being shuttled across the floor. “Thanks,” he hollered up to Gabe, his construction manager. This project had been the most gut-wrenchingly stressful of anything he’d done. But it was almost finished. The whole place was rented out and within weeks of being ready. The loans were covered. And he was being touted at the next Dan Gilbert.
Which was a laugh. He’d never touch that guy’s personal wealth level. But he was proud of having pulled this off and was already being courted by a new set of investors eager to rehab spaces in Grand Rapids. He had even made money off this project—a shit ton of it. And since his corporation would manage the building, collecting leases and handling all the maintenance issues, he’d keep making money on it. He’d hired six new people, including an admittedly hot woman who was doing her level best to make sure he noticed how hot she was, whose sole jobs were to manage this city block. Even with their solid, living wage salaries and benefits, he would still make money as long as it stayed rented.
But almost getting brained by a damn bookcase was emblematic of his bigger problem. He only got about four hours of sleep every night. Food turned to cardboard in his mouth. Beer or wine to vinegar. He would sometimes catch himself sitting and staring out the nearest window and picturing her. His hands would clench on his knees as he fell deeper into the fantasy of it—her hair, her lips, her ass, her long longs and her sweet, talented mouth.
His heart would seem to stutter-step, then speed up. Sweat would bead his face. His gut would roll and turn in around on itself as the next thing he’d see was her mother’s face when she’d told him. He’d see the pavement that he’d stared at for so long after that. Then he’d see her building, where he’d waited, frozen and useless, unable to face her because of his own deep displeasure over the fact of a pregnancy.
“Trent,” a female voice hit his ear, making him blink back to the here and now. “Could you come over here a minute?”
He rubbed his eyes and headed in her direction. The woman—God what in the hell was her name—stood at a work table, pointing down at some papers. Her long hair gleamed in the overhead lights. He looked down at the papers, ignoring the way she stared at him. This was not helping him. Not that he was interested, but fighting her off was sucking away what little energy he still possessed.
After okaying whatever it was she needed, he turned to his other youthful staff who also waylaid him with their details. The massive space that he was converting into his new HE LLC management company was making him nuts. He needed air. He shoved past the people scurrying around installing electronics and desks and bookshelves and shoved his way out into the cool fall air.
Propping his hands on his knees, he sucked in deep breaths, shoving aside Melody and the potential of their child—something that still wouldn’t take hold no matter how much he tried to make it—and focusing on what still had to be done. He had to get through this. He needed to call her. But he wouldn’t. Something held him back and he knew that the longer he waited, the less likely she’d be to ever talk to him.
His phone buzzed with a text from Taylor.
Don’t forget my doctor’s appointment.
He groaned and leaned against the building. Sheila had dropped the whole birth control thing in his lap last week, demanding that he get her to the doctor so she could get a damn IUD. He’d obsessed over it the last few nights, wishing like hell he could talk to Melody about all this.
But no. He’d fucked that six ways to Sunday.
“Right. Okay.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and ground his teeth, willing himself stronger, braver, anything but what he was right now—miserable, exhausted and missing Melody Rodriguez like a fucking phantom limb.
“Trent?” He turned around, about to bite the woman’s head off out of self-defense. But she was holding out a phone. “It’s for you.”
“Thanks.” He took it and put it to his ear. “Hettinger.”
“Oh my God, Trent, where…?” Some kind of racket started up behind him from the office so he shoved his finger in his other ear and headed down the street away from the noise.
“I’m sorry? Who’s this? I can barely hear you.”
“God damn it…sorry motherfucker…”
“Oh, hi, Evelyn.” He stopped at the corner. “What’s up?”
“…you sorry ass, it’s Melody.”
“I can’t hear you. What about Melody?”
“…Grant Hospital…blood loss…miscarriage.”
“What the fuck?” He was already running for his car, keeping the phone pressed to his ear. “What are you talking about? Where is she? Speak up, woman!”
“She’s in Grant Hospital. I found her at home when she didn’t come to work this morning. She was… Oh shit. Just hurry up and get here.”
He was already in the Jeep, pulling out into the heavy, late-afternoon traffic. Ignoring the honks and waved middle fingers, he screeched onto the freeway, his heart racing and his ears full of the sound of Melody’s voice.
He parked and shoved past the crowds hovering at the elevator of the garage and ran down the stairs. When he hit the main desk, he was breathing heavy but focused. “Melody Rodriguez,” he said, trying to smile at the old guy sitting at the computer. “Please.” He tapped his fingers impatiently while the guy looked her up.
“Yes, she’s in room seven eighteen.”
“Thanks.” He ran off, leaving behind the words “But wait, sir…you can’t…”
He hit the elevator, punched the seven and held the door close button, shrugging his apology to the older couple who’d tried to join him before the doors shut in their faces. He kept wiping his lips and tapping his foot as the damn thing crawled up two, three, four. Then stopping at five and letting a bunch of people in scrubs on, and disgorging them at the next floor. Biting back the words “couldn’t have taken the stairs, guys?” he gritted his teeth until the doors slid open on seven and he ran out, nearly colliding with a nurse carrying a stack of computer tablets.
“Excuse me,” she said, snippily.
“Seven eighteen? Please?”
He must have resembled an honest-to-God crazy person—or somebody who was worried about a sick loved one—so she pointed helpfully down the hallway teeming with people in scrubs and lost civilians like himself. He took off at a run, heart in his throat, as if his proximity to her was ramping up his panic. He skidded to a stop outside her door, took a breath and knocked.
Evelyn appeared, her face haggard. She slipped out the door into the hall and gave him a tight hug. “Oh God, Trent. She’s…it was awful.”
“What happened?” He peeled her off him. “Talk to me.”
She took a breath. “She was late for work which never happens. I called her. I texted. I sent someone over to beat on her door. He said no one answered but it didn’t feel right to me. I knew…” She bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I knew something was wrong. Anyway, I got in my car and drove to her place. I talked the manager into unlocking the door. We found her in the kitchen, unconscious. There was so much blood. Jesus.” She slumped against the wall.
Trent glanced at the closed door. “The baby…”
“She lost it. Not that you care.” She seemed to recover herself, standing and wiping her eyes with a tissue. “Shit. She’s gonna kill me for calling you.” She glared at him. “She lost the baby and nearly died. Her placenta was in the wrong place or something and it ruptured. She must have fallen and hit her head on the kitchen counter. She was… The EMT guys said her body temperature was so low she was practically dead when I f-f-f-found her. Oh Jesus.” She looked up at the ceiling. Trent tried not to yell. He used all his abilities, all his well-honed control skills not to shake her.
Instead, he moved her aside and pushed the door handle down. “No, wait,” she said, moving in front of him again. “She’s not…awake.”
“Move,” he said, not meaning to sound so gruff but not caring at the same time. “I need to see her, Evelyn.”
She made one more effort, holding out her arm. He pushed it down gently, moved her aside once more, and opened the door. The room was dim but he could make out a bed and some beeping monitors. He froze for a few seconds, his mind flipping through all the reasons he’d left her alone for the last month. Which all boiled down to one thing—he was a total, weak-kneed loser. That broke his trance and he stumbled forward toward the bed and staring down at her.
She was asleep, or unconscious. Had an IV line stuck in one hand, some kind of clear tube under her nose. Her cheekbones were so prominent he cursed himself all over again for being such a lame ass. His hand shook as he stroked her arm. His fingers trembled when he touched her face. She didn’t move. “Is she all right?”
He glanced over his shoulder. Evelyn was standing by the door, hand over her mouth. “I don’t know. They moved her up here from the ER. They tell me she’s got to have more surgery.”
“Surgery,” he said, under his breath. “For what?”
“I don’t know. Do I look like a damn doctor?”
He rose, his ears ringing and his vision tunneling. An alarm went off somewhere and the room was flooded with people in scrubs, shoving him aside yanking off the sheet that had been covering her. Evelyn had tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and was pressing her face against his shoulder. He put his arm around her and watched while the medical crew rolled Melody out, hollering about opening up an operating room, stat.
The next two hours were a living hell—and one purely of his own making. He kept his fingers locked together and his head down, staring at the floor until his eyes crossed. Evelyn patted his shoulder in between bouts of pacing. At one point, he grabbed her arm. “You’re pregnant too?”
She nodded and leaned into him. “Please tell me she’ll be all right.”
“I wish I could,” he said, his voice breaking. “Why didn’t she…ever call me?”
She leaned away from him, her eyebrows raised. “Dude, don’t even.”
He sighed and resumed his study of the floor at his feet.
“I’m willing to forgive you,” she said. “If you promise to never make me into a giant liar ever again.”
He glanced at her, his fingers clasped so tight it hurt. “How did I manage that?”
“You disappeared,” she said, bumping his shoulder. “I mean, I get it on one level. But on another, much more mature one, I would just as soon gouge out your fucking eyeballs as look at you right now. She was so fucking miserable. She hardly ate anything. She couldn’t keep anything down at all. Our OB had her on those gross liquid supplements like for old people or little kids.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to his hands, willing himself back four weeks, or five, so he could just go to her and hold her and take care of her…and their baby.
Dear Lord. The baby.
His vision blurred. He closed his eyes tight.
“Why didn’t she…never mind.” He ground his teeth. “Just never fucking mind.”
She leaned into his shoulder and they waited another hour before a doctor emerged from the double doors that cut the waiting room off from the operating rooms. “Mr. Hettinger?”
He rose, gripping Evelyn’s hand. “Yes.” He couldn’t choke anything else out.
“Well, we stopped the hemorrhage. It was a serious rupture.”
Trent nodded, feeling as if he was moving in slow motion, staring at the doctor’s lips, willing him to say more. “She lost a lot of blood. It’s a good thing you found her when you did.”
Evelyn grabbed his arm. “Will she be all right?”
“Yes, but we’ll need to keep her in the ICU overnight at least. She has to be monitored to make sure her blood pressure doesn’t drop again. And we need to use warming blankets. Her body temperature keeps dropping for some reason. It’s precarious. But she will survive.” He glanced up at Trent. “I believe that her uterus will recover. So you can try again. But not until she’s regained a lot of strength. Losing that much blood is going to mean a lot of rest, and careful monitoring even after she goes home.”
Trent felt his knees give out, but he kept control of himself, set his jaw and nodded at the doctor. “Can I see her, please?”
“In a few minutes. A nurse will come get you.” He glanced at Evelyn. “One visitor at a time, though. Does Miss Rodriguez have a next of kin?”
“Yes. Her mother should be here any minute.”
Trent stepped away from them, rubbing his face, feeling as if an army of ants was crawling up and down his spine, parading over his skin. The doctor shot him a look, then was distracted by something on his phone. “I have to go. She’ll be in recovery a while longer. Once she’s in the unit, you can see her.”
Trent paced for a solid twenty minutes until someone came out and got him. He approached her bed, wary, horrified at himself, battling every demon he’d ever faced to keep from running away and hiding in shame. But he sat in the chair, took her hand, kissed it and whispered in her ear. “I’m here, bella. I’m here and I’m never leaving you again.”
Her mother appeared at some point, pushing him out of his chair with a string of murmured Spanish. He leaned against the wall, waiting for Melody to open her eyes for hours. He dozed in one of the chairs designed for maximum discomfort out in the waiting room, waking when Josefina prodded his shoulder. “She’s awake.”
He lurched forward, swiping his tongue over his teeth, so eager to see her that he almost tackled a gaggle of nurses in the hallway.
He ran to her bed. She was staring at the ceiling. He ran a finger down her cheek, tried to turn her face to his. But she wouldn’t budge.
“Please leave.” Her voice was hoarse.
“I know I was a shit. I was a total, useless ass and I am so, so sorry. Please, Melody. Look at me.”
“Go, Trent. You didn’t want me when I was pregnant. So you can’t have me now, sorry.”
She turned her face away from him.
“No. That’s not what…I mean. It was a shock and I…I wanted to call you. But…”
“It’s all right. I understand. You have your kid. You don’t want another. So you broke up with me without even giving me the benefit of a break-up.”
He sucked in a ragged breath. “I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t want to break up. I love you. You know that.”
“I knew that,” she said, turning to face him again. “But I don’t know it anymore. You left me alone. I was okay with that because I…I had…” She put a pale hand on her stomach. “I had something of you that would have been all mine. But now I don’t. So you can go.”
“You didn’t want kids either.” He hated himself so much right then he wanted to leap out the window. But the words wouldn’t stop pouring out of his mouth. “Don’t lie to me about that.”
“I didn’t want kids, no. But when I had your child, I fucking wanted it. But you didn’t and you didn’t even have the cojones to tell me that to my face. Leave, Trent. I mean it.” Her face was red. An alarm went off and he was shoved past again, forced out of the room, relegated to the chairs. He dropped into one, boneless, empty, realizing that she hadn’t said a single word that he couldn’t refute. He had bolted. He had been scared. He’d been utterly and completely ball-less. And now he’d lost his child, and his woman.
“Oh God,” he groaned. “Oh God. Oh God.”
Josefina and Evelyn ran up to him, clutching cardboard cups of shitty coffee. “What’s wrong? Trent, what is it?”
Josefina threw her cup into the trash and ran for the room, babbling in Spanish and crossing herself like mad. “I don’t know. I fucked it up. I fucked everything up.” He stood up and glared at her. “I did this. I own this. But she won’t see me.”
“She’ll come around.” Evelyn put her hand on his arm but he threw it off.
“No. She won’t and she shouldn’t. I don’t deserve her.”
He barely remembered the walk down the hall, the elevator, the ride home. By the time he got there and looked at his phone again, he realized he’d forgotten to meet Taylor at the doctor’s office so he could sign for her IUD. “Fuck!” He threw the phone against the wall, shattering it so thoroughly shards went in every possible direction. “Fucking fuck!” His hand fell on something. He picked it up, staring at it without seeing it, then heaved it against the wall too. The vase exploded into a million glass pieces, the flowers—dead as he’d not moved them since Melody had walked out of his life over a month ago—slid down the wall in a brown clump. He put his hands to his face and dropped to his knees in the middle of the floor.
Taylor found him there when she got home, pulled him to his feet and pushed him on to the couch. “Chill, Dad. I’ll get you a beer or something.”
“No, no, water. Please just some water.” She brought it. He drank it so fast he got a headache but the hydration helped him think.
“So, you stood me up but I’m guessing by all this something is really wrong.” She gestured to the phone shards, the shattered vase. “What is it?”
He could tell she was nervous by the way she was shifting her jaw around. Not unlike her old man, he thought, reaching out to touch her face. His baby girl, his pride, his treasure—the pain in ass and thorn in his side. All rolled up into a beautiful, near perfect copy of her brittle, acerbic, needy mother.
“It’s Melody, honey. I… I did a terrible thing.”
She leaned back trying to look nonchalant but kept swinging the leg she had crossed over the other—another of her mother’s clear tells. “What did you do?”
“She was pregnant. I… I left her alone. I couldn’t handle it. I was scared and a real shithead about it.”
Taylor’s huge green eyes widened. “Pregnant? You told me you couldn’t anymore. You sure she wasn’t getting some on the side?”
He dropped his head back with a groan. “I’m sure. I got myself tested. I am apparently still able to do my evolutionary duty, if you get me.”
“Jeez, Dad, TMI.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “But you knew it was your kid and you dumped her? That’s a serious asshole move. Well done.”
“I know, I know.” He got up and paced, running his hands over his scalp, muttering under his breath.
“So, what happened? I’m gonna have a baby brother that I can’t ever see, or what?”
“No.” He stopped and pressed his hands against the large window. The cool panes soothed him somewhat. “She had a miscarriage. She almost died. I just came from the hospital.”
“Where I assume she kicked your sorry ass out of her room.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “As a matter of fact, yes, she did.”
“Well, good. I think I might like her after all.”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool panes. “Fuck me,” he muttered.
“Don’t worry, Dad. Maybe she’ll come around.”
“Probably not.”
“Well, then I guess you’ll have to make some effort. Sounds like you want to.”
“I do. But I don’t know…”
She grabbed his arm. He turned to face her, marveling all over again at her extreme beauty. Her eyes narrowed and she took his cheeks between her fingers, pinching tight. “Hettingers don’t give up.”
He shook his head but she pinched harder.
“God damn you, Dad. I’ll never respect another word you say to me if you give up on her now. She needs you. Man the fuck up.”
She let him go, popping her gum and looking like a surly teenager again. “I need some painkillers,” she said, heading for the kitchen. “I’m cramping like a bitch.” Rubbing his cheeks, he sat, pondering this day and all it might mean.
“Can I use your phone? Mine’s kinda…out of commission.” She handed it over, then stuck a heating pad in the microwave. “Thanks, babe.” He called Evelyn first.
“Hey. How is she?”
“She’s fine. Eating something actually. They’re impressed with how she’s bounced back.”
“Good. Listen, I need your help with something.”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Yes. You do. You’re the one who called me in first place.”
“Yeah. And if I’m lucky my friend might speak to me again someday.”
“She will. And if I play my cards right, she’ll be back where she belongs, with me. But you have to advocate for me.”
“I have been, you giant shit head. But taking a powder on her after finding out about the pregnancy….” She made a tsk-ing sound. “That’s kind of unforgiveable, really.”
“I know, I know. But I want…I mean I can make it up to her. I love her. I know she loves me. I have to make this work.”
“You are so cute when you’re begging.”
“Evelyn…”
“Oh all right, fine. But don’t think you can just saunter back in to her life. She’s gonna make you work for it.”
“I’m not averse to hard work. Especially if I know what the end game is.” He clenched his fist on his thigh. “I fucked it up but I will make it right. So help me. I will get her back.”
“Is Aunt Kayla coming over?” Taylor dropped into the other end of the couch, clutching the heating pad to her stomach. He tossed her the phone. She caught it without looking.
“Do me a favor and text her. I need all the female brain power I can muster right now. Then we’ll order out—Chinese I think.”
She tapped out a message. That night, he laid out a plan of action. A full-on romance effort that would bring most women to their knees in days.
“I think you’ll be at this for at least a month, T.” Kayla sipped a soda and picked through the fried rice for chicken.
“I say six weeks,” Taylor said, taking a bite of the lo mein.
“I heard he paid off her credit card without telling her,” Kayla said, bumping Taylor’s shoulder.
“Jeez, Dad, that’s kind of stalker-ish. Who do you think you are? Some kind of sugar daddy?” She winked at her aunt who dissolved in peals of laughter.
“No,” he said, grabbing the container of lo mein from her and digging in. He felt good, for the first time in weeks. He had a plan. And it would work. It had to. There was no other viable option.
“I gotta go,” Kayla said, standing and stretching. “Early diner shift tomorrow.” She kissed the top of Taylor’s head then gave Trent a tight hug. “You’re all right, baby brother. For a jackass.”
He smiled and kissed her cheek. “You all right still? Sure you don’t want me to—?”
“Nope. I’m good. I’m safe. I’m clean. You don’t have to take care of me.” She winked. “Go take care of Melody. If she decides to take you back, maybe you’ll be redeemed.”
“I’m gonna give it the old college try,” he said. “And she will take me back. Trust me. She won’t know what hit her, poor dear.” He flexed his biceps and kissed it. Taylor groaned and threw a fortune cookie at him.
“Such confidence.” Kayla chucked him under the chin. He mimed falling backward as if she’d slugged him one. “Keep me posted, T. I’ll be rooting for you.” He walked her to the sliding metal door out to the hallway with the elevator, his arm around her shoulder. “I love you,” she said, pecking him on the cheek then ducking out the door.
“All right, all right. Time for bed.” He swept the cartons into a garbage bag and switched off the TV that Taylor had just turned on. “I need rest.”
He brushed his teeth and put on a pair of soft pants. For the first time in weeks he honestly thought he’d be able to sleep. But it eluded him after about an hour of fitful dozing on the couch. So he did his usual, wandering into Taylor’s bedroom and watching her a while, then drinking some tea and staring out into the street lights below, counting the minutes until the morning and he could begin his campaign to win Melody back.