She looks up at me now, pausing to smile. “I’m sorry I threatened to run away and I’ll make an effort to fight with you more.”

I chuckle again. She’s adorable. Everything about her squeals perfect. “I would like to marry you, stick you in a kitchen and get you all barefoot and pregnant. But I’ll wait. I’m not in a hurry, I’m enjoying every second we spend together. I’m really not trying to pressure you with the baby talk.”

Her sigh is actually a long low moan that comes off mournful. “I think you are, but it’s OK. I’ll learn to deal.”

“Hey,” I say softly as I tip her chin up. “You don’t need to learn to deal with me, Rook. You got something inside that head of yours you need to get out? What’s going on with the baby stuff?”

She pulls back and turns away. Not a good sign.

“I just…” She looks at me over her shoulder and then lifts her eyes to meet mine. “I’m not ready yet, OK? I told you some of what happened that last time Jon went off on me, how he found the birth control and why I felt I needed it. But there’s more to it.” She takes a long breath, holds it, and then lets it out slowly. “But I’m not ready to think about it yet.”

Her chest expands suddenly and I know she’s about to cry. I reach out and turn her around as I pull her into me. “Hey, it’s OK. You don’t have to talk about it.” She shakes a little as she sobs and all I can do is hold her tight. “Shhh,” I murmur next to her ear as she tries to stop. And then I stop trying to quiet her because there’s something I’ve noticed about Rook over the past few months. She hardly ever cries over her past. She cries when she’s frustrated about things between us and she cried pretty hard that day she found out about the missing person’s report, but really, she should maybe cry a little more. She holds things in until it boils over.

So I just hug her tight and kiss her head and try to say something soft and soothing. “Don’t panic, Gidget. Be still and stay calm. We’ll be OK, I promise. Just keep calm and it will all work out.”

And she spends the next few minutes with her face buried in my jacket letting it out in her own way.

Ford said she’s got more secrets, but I figured that was about her relationship with Jon. I think this is something else, because this baby stuff is sorta coming out of nowhere and she’s not making much sense. Just the few things she’s told me about what that sick fuck did to her are enough, but I’m getting the feeling that as horrific as those incidents were, it’s nothing compared to the secrets she’s got buried inside her. 

Chapter Twenty-Six - ROOK

Ronin wanted to drive me back up to Fort Collins but I told him no. I need the alone time to be honest. I found out Elise was pregnant almost two months ago, so why now? I don’t get it. The miscarriage is ancient history and still, I can barely even think about it without wanting to break down and cry.

I never had any counseling for that. Not even when I was living in the homeless shelter before I met Ronin. I gave the shelter people a fake name every night I stayed there, but I had to tell them about Jon just in case he came looking for me so they sorta forced that ‘talking it out’ shit on me. I was really paranoid for the first few weeks but Jon never showed up. And I figured if he did go looking for me he probably went to Vegas first because on paper, that’s where I went. My bus ticket said Vegas. In the movies people get on a bus to Hollywood so they can make all their dreams come true, but it would’ve cost me another two hundred bucks to take that bus to LA and Vegas was on special when I bought my ticket.

So that’s the ride I bought.

Jon went to Vegas a lot when we first started going out, but he never took me. I always wanted to go back then, but by the time I was eighteen I’d lost all interest in doing anything with Jon. He took one of the other girls instead.

And if I had answered Ford’s question of how I got here more completely, that’s what I would’ve told him—that I was heading to Vegas on a dream of being someone special. But Ford was more concerned with the dream that landed me in Denver than the Vegas one I let drift away. After a few days on my own in Colorado I came to my senses and figured I’d just move forward here and try my best to slip back into a normal life. Denver was screaming normal, boring almost. Slow and safe. That’s how I saw it back then. The complete opposite of Vegas.

And most of that stuff was pretty easy to let go. I just packed it up and put it away. Blocked it out.

But not all of it.

The baby was the only thing that still tore me up inside because you can’t just grow a life inside you, allowing yourself to get used to the idea, and then turn it all off like a faucet when it’s ripped away.

Every time I think of children I think of the one I lost. And even though I know it was for the best, that my life would be so much worse if I was trapped back in Illinois with this baby, and it’s even possible that the baby would be in a lot of danger and we’d have very little chance of escaping together… a part of me still wishes that things would’ve turned out differently.

And that part of me feels so… sick. It makes me feel sick to want that because Jon was included in that life. And the worst part is that I can’t let it go. All because of that baby. It probably means I’m really fucked up in the head. I should not want those things. But I just can’t separate the two. If I love the baby then if feels like I have to love Jon, too.

I’m so fucked in the head.

It’s true that I never wanted to start a family with Jon, and believe me, he threw that little fact back in my face for months after the miscarriage. He totally blamed me for the ‘accident’. But once the whole pregnancy thing became real to me it changed things. I got on board, I was in, I took the vitamins, and watched what I ate, and made sure I never missed a check-up.

But in the end none of that mattered. And I can’t help but feel helpless. I always feel like it’s just me against the world. How do I win that fight?

I can’t.

Me against the world is not a good plan of attack in the war that is life.

I blow out a long breath of air and try to think about something else. Because it’s not fair for me to take out my unresolved past on Elise, Antoine, and Ronin. They are baby people. Totally. And they are so excited. It’s not fair that I disrupt their good vibes with my bad ones.

I pull into Spencer’s driveway and park the truck and then grab my backpack and get out before Spence feels the need to come check on me. He’s a good guy, even if he does have an unhealthy obsession with guns. I glance over at the shop and it’s all dark. So that probably means Ford isn’t home because it’s way too early to be in bed. I go inside and drop my backpack on the floor next to the basement stairs, then go into the kitchen and look for Spencer.

“Spence?”

“Back here,” he calls out from the living room.

“Whatcha doin?” I ask him as I take in the images spread out on the coffee table.

“Putting together a portfolio for you, Blackbird. So you can have a record of what we did last summer.”

I plop down next to him on the couch and pick up a few of the images. “They turned out pretty good, huh?”

“Pretty good doesn’t even cover it, Rook. I’ve sold more bikes in the last month than my old man did the entire year before I took the company over.”

Spencer continues what he’s doing, sorting through the images and choosing some to put into the clear pages inside the black book. “Thank you for this,” I say as I watch him choose. “Which one’s your favorite?”

He flips through the book to the first page. “This one,” he laughs. “That’s why it’s first.”

I take the book from his outstretched hands and look over his choice. It’s Spence and me. I’m painted up with all his tattoos on my top half, and my bottom half is a painted-on version of his ripped and faded jeans. “You know what’s funny? That was my favorite outfit as well. I’m not sure why, it’s just too cool that you and I had the same artwork on our bodies at the same time, ya know?”