Midwest Fighter (Kendall Family Book 2) (14 page)

Resting her hands on my shoulders, she takes on the kind of stern look I haven’t received since the time I smuggled my pet ferret in my bra to primary school. “From what Ev tells me, James isn’t the type to let anyone he cares about suffer. You could have a hangnail and he’d be at your side with a clippers. While I may not know you well enough yet to understand what it is specifically about the possibility of being a parent that scares you, I’m living proof that you
can
successfully raise a child without having any clue what you’re doing. We’re all capable of mistakes and poor decisions, Shar. It’s called
life
. If you had zero regrets and nothing to be afraid of, then you're not really living. With or without James, you’re strong enough to do this. So march that perky little ass of yours into the bathroom and take that test before I find a way to
make
you.”

“Hold up, I’m trying to decide if you missed your calling as a psychotherapist or a drill instructor.”

Shaking her head, Katie points at the bathroom, lips pressed together. I merely nod and retreat with her hot on my trail. When I reach for the kit on the counter, she snatches it first, skimming through the directions and mumbling to herself. She snags a packet from the box and hands it to me. “Just pee on it. You picked a great test—we’ll know in five minutes max if there’s reason for alarm. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She leaves the room as I pull my knickers down and squat over the loo. By the time I’ve placed the stick on the sink counter and perched on the tub across the way to watch intently, Katie’s back with an open bottle of white wine.

“Not until I know,” I insist, holding a hand out to stop her from getting any closer.

“It’s not for you.” She takes a long guzzle before sitting at my side. From the corner of my eye, I can see she’s staring the test down as well. “It feels like an eternity when you’re waiting for these dumb things to lay out the rest of your future with one little line. At least if one of us has a good buzz going, it’ll liven things up.”

Laughing, I say, “Might I ask at what point you knew it wouldn’t work between you and the boys’ father?”

“It was lots of little things that just kind of added up over time. We were just kids ourselves and had no business playing house. He was always more interested in getting drunk with his buddies. I probably would’ve been out drinking with him if I didn’t have the baby. And he was more worried about getting tickets for the hottest concert than figuring out how we were going to pay for diapers after I moved out of my parents’ house. One time Charlie got into it with him because Jason spent all our grocery money for the month on beer, and I had to sneak mac and cheese from Mom and Dad’s house. Money was a constant issue with us, and it never really worried Jason unless it somehow interfered with partying. I guess it finally hit home when I found out Jason slept with his ex while I was still in the hospital after giving birth to Allen.”

I glance over at her. “That
wanker!”

“That’s accurate,” she agrees without looking away from the test. “I was embarrassed that it took me that long to see him for what he really was.”

“This may be a bit bold of me to ask, but how do you trust another man after something that devastating?”

“I haven’t officially dated since I kicked Jason out of the house. I’ve just messed around whenever I have a craving, like with Dante at his place. I figure it’s not worth having a revolving door of random men and getting the boys involved in the kind of drama that comes with relationships. Instead I put all my focus on them while getting myself through college. They’ll be out of school before long and I’ll have time to pursue the kind of partner that doesn’t require batteries. But when that day comes, I’ll trust anyone who can prove themselves worthy because they won't be Jason. It’s both a blessing and a curse that all men aren’t the same. When you find one of the good ones, you need do everything in your power to hold on to them.”

Of course her inspirational speech has me thinking of James straightaway and how he could be one of the proverbial “good ones” she mentioned. I recognize he’s an anomaly of sorts, having more of an interest in his loved ones than his own well-being, but what would it cost them if I were to selfishly pull him away from the Midwest because we had a child together? What if looking out for James’s best interests means letting go of him to ensure he’s where he belongs?

Worse yet, what if he were only to return out of some obligation to the baby? When James took off, he didn’t even try to pretend that he'd be coming back for me, proving how easy it would be to lose him. And I’m the product of parents who don’t believe much in the sanctity of marriage and sticking it out for the better good of the team. Who’s to say I’m any different?

I’m torn away from my brutal thoughts with the sound of Katie calling my name. When I look at her, she tilts her head toward the test.

Two bloody little lines stare back at me.

T
he next morning
as I’m attempting to enjoy a cuppa tea in my pajamas without feeling sorry for myself or wondering what in the hell to do next, my front door swings open and Katie enters in a blur of dreadfully bright colors and patterns.

“Oh good, you’re up!” she sings brightly as she places an arm-load of recycled shopping bags on the counter top in front of me. “I mean why wouldn’t you be? It’s nearly noon. By the way, your door was wide open. I thought you were going to start locking it after that psycho woman attacked you and Ev.”

“Apparently I was expecting a delivery from the grocer,” I answer sarcastically, running a hand through my mussed hair. “Although I must say I prefer the usual delivery boy. A little pubescent, perhaps, but at least
he
doesn’t wear patterns that send me on a psychedelic trip so early in the day.”

“Glad to see you still have your wits about you. I was worried after last night’s bombshell you’d be in a shitty mood.” She begins pulling items from the bags and setting them in a pile beside the fridge.
Carrots, apples, lettuce, celery…
the crop of vegetation is never-ending.

“Are we planning to entertain farm animals?” I ask.

“You need to start eating healthy. I got you in with Dr. Jo-Lynn, the best ob-gyn in Manhattan. This woman isn’t easy to see, especially on such short notice. It took a little name-dropping, but I got you an appointment for today at five. By the way, if the receptionist gets all giddy and weird, it’s because you’re Charlie’s
other
sister. She might ask you some questions about him and want your picture. Sometimes the weird ones will ask for a lock of hair. Just go with it.”

“I’m perfectly capable of scheduling my own appointments.”

“It’s important that you get on prenatal vitamins as soon as possible,” she continues before I’ve finished my sentence. “You need to boost your folic acid levels to prevent birth defects. And you’ll have to start drinking a
ton
of water until you feel like your eyes are floating.” She throws all hundred-and-ten pounds of herself into opening my refrigerator doors. Next thing I know, she’s rifling through the shelves, removing bottles of wine, a half-used carton of guacamole, and apparently anything else she deems as “junk.”

“You’re going to want to start walking or running every day because I’m telling you, those extra pounds start packing on sooner than you think. One day you’ll be using rubber-bands to stay in your favorite pair of jeans as long as possible and the next you’re shopping for shirts that don’t make you literally look like a watermelon.”

“Perhaps you should’ve started by wearing something a bit more subtle,” I tease, tugging on the back of her bright orange shirt once she returns to my side. “It’s sweet of you to purge my kitchen of everything that makes life worth living, but I haven’t been given much of a chance to let the situation sink all the way in despite only sleeping a few hours.” Setting my cup on the counter, I rub my weary face with both hands. “I was afraid if I closed my eyes I’d be plagued with nightmares of screaming toddlers with sticky fingers yanking on my hair.”

Clicking her tongue, Katie sets a hand on her hip. “Children aren’t
all
bad. I mean, sure, in the beginning you worry about dropping a newborn when you’re operating on two hours of sleep at a time, and you have to deal with blowouts involving that nasty yellow poop that smells worse than dog shit, but the first time they smile, or crawl, or say ‘mama’ it’ll all be worth it. I promise. Even if they
do
grow up to be spoiled, ungrateful teenagers who only talk to you when they need money for gas.”

“You do make it sound so delightful.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Have you told James yet?”

“I haven’t told a soul, and I ask that you don’t either. I’m plan to handle this in my own way, at a time I deem fit.”

“Fine by me, but heads up, you only have nine months to do it,” she reminds me with a shrug.

Truth be told, I haven’t a clue when I plan on telling him. I meant it when I told Nolan that James already has too many responsibilities and this would only drag him down. If he wanted to be with me, he would’ve found a way to make it happen by now. I certainly have no intentions of forcing him into it by bringing a helpless human into the equation.

“What’s this?” Katie asks, grabbing a small pile of letters beside the toaster oven.

“Junk mail,” I say, leaning across the counter to swipe them away before she gets a proper look.

After returning from the week I spent with James, more mysterious hand-written letters without a return address appeared amongst my mail, this time without postage. They’re all the same, really, blabbering on about how I’m spoiled and should share my wealth with the less unfortunate. I’ve been meaning to do something about them, I just haven’t a clue
what
. I suppose the letters and prank calls could be related, but they’re not harmful enough to warrant a call to the authorities.

My laptop trills from the coffee table, causing me to jump out of my skin. Catching Katie’s look of concern, I laugh. “Right, Ev was planning to ring when they’ve arrived in Vegas,” I say, hopping off the stool onto my feet. Pointing at my belly, I narrow my eyes at Katie. “Not a
word
of this. Do you understand?”

Biting down on her lips, she nods, but I’m not entirely convinced. By the third ring, I’ve flipped the screen up and find my bestie smiling back at me, looking all too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the west coast time zone. “Morning, Shar!”

“Hold on,” I say, pretending to scan my keyboard. “I’m looking for a button to dim your chipper mood.”

“Didn’t you sleep last night, or what?” Her smile melts into a frown. “Are you still in your pjs?”

Rolling my eyes, I flip my hair to one side of my head. “Not all of us get to prance about the countryside on holiday, rubbing naughty-bits with celebrities.”

A mischievous smile sparks a light in her eye. “Speaking of, did you see the texts I sent last night?”

“Battery must’ve died,” I lie with a shrug. No need to get her involved in my harassment woes when Nolan’s friend is already on it. Surprisingly, twenty-four hours without feeling the need to check my cell phone every thirty seconds has proven to be quite liberating.

“Better charge it up because you’re not going to believe who I ran into last night. I swear, Charlie has the most random famous friends.”

“Have you heard anything from the ranch?” I blurt, bracing myself for her answer.

With a small roll of her brown eyes, she says, “You mean the
farm?
No one says
ranch
in Minnesota.”

“Maybe not, but they do have particular names for their food and drink.” I try my best to swallow, but my nerves aren’t having it. “Is everyone alright?”

Her freckled shoulders rise with a shrug. “I talked to Hunter this morning. I think he’s still reeling from the things that came out yesterday at Uncle Orin’s hearing.” Even through the computer screen I can see worry fill her expression as her chest rises with a deep sigh. “None of us want to accept that Dad’s own brother might’ve killed him.”

“
What?”
I ask amongst a sharp breath.

Her eyebrows furrow. “James didn’t tell you?” When I slowly shake my head, she explains, “They arrested our uncle. The FBI says he was the one lying to that government program to make more money, and they think our dad wasn’t having it. I guess it shouldn’t surprise me James didn’t tell you since he’s not dealing with the news very well. Hunter said he spends all his spare time fighting at the shed or getting shit-faced at the bar.”

Closing my eyes, I fight back a sudden wave of tears. This would explain why James seemed so distraught when he left. And he asked me to come home with him because he needed me. But I refused.

“Shar, I thought you said you guys hung out while he was there. What happened?”

“We spent quite a bit of time together,” I confirm, opening my eyes to face her once more. “It was lovely, but in the end we knew with the distance involved, it wouldn’t work.”

“Are you okay?”

Stomach surging with the sympathetic look she’s projecting, I bite down on my lower lip. I certainly don’t want to lie to her, but I’m afraid once I begin to peel back the first layer of my emotions, the rest will become exposed, and I’ll become a mere puddle on the couch.

“Hey, Ev!” Katie interrupts, plopping herself onto the couch at my side.

“Hey, Katie! I didn’t know you were there!”

“I just stopped in to discuss something Shar created,” she answers smartly.

As Evelyn tells Katie of her run-in the night before with an actress I’ve never heard of, I stumble away, allowing my tears to spill. James’s life is literally spiraling out of control. If he were to discover I’m pregnant, it would only add to the nightmares of his reality.

* * *

L
ater in the night
, I’m startled by a loud disturbance somewhere in the not-so-far distance. Glancing at the glowing clock on my nightstand, I confirm what I had already guessed from watching the sky grow dark outside my bedroom window when I couldn’t sleep. It’s bloody late.

Once again there’s another loud scuffle-type noise. Immediately, my torturous mind goes to places I’d rather forget and all at once I’m plagued with the memory of a blonde nutter holding a gun to my head.

I grab the portable phone I had brought in from the kitchen before going to bed, suddenly grateful Nolan had insisted after Evelyn’s kidnapping that I procure a landline for emergencies. After dialing 9-1-1, my shaking thumb hovers above send. Maybe my imagination is simply going wild now that there’s more at stake than my own well-being. I rub my hand over my abdomen, wondering what it would be like if James gave up everything else in his life to be with me. Wondering what it would be like if we had a family
together
.

Breath held, I wait for more noises, but all’s quiet. Deleting the emergency numbers, I dial Nolan instead.

“Shar? What time is it?” he asks in a groggy voice.

“Apparently time to buy diapers.”

“Really?” All at once he sounds alert when he asks, “How do you feel about it?”

“The same as when you saw me last. Dreadfully conflicted.”

“I take it you’re calling because you can’t sleep. Want me to come over?”

“No, I’m fine,” I answer with a reluctant sigh. “Just…I thought I heard something. But I hear a lot of somethings that aren’t there ever since that reporter broke in.”

“I’m coming over.”

“No need to come all this way, luv. I’m sure it’s merely my maternal instincts trying to activate.”

“I’m not in Manhattan—I crashed for the night on the bar’s couch. Stay on the phone until I get there.”

A third bang is followed by the unmistakeable sound of shattering glass. With my heart leaping clear up into my throat, I drop the phone with my hand held over my mouth, holding back a scream.
Someone’s inside
.

“Shar?” Nolan’s voice is muted against my blankets. “Shar!”

After several deep breaths to slow my racing heart, I bring the phone back up to my ear. “Sorry,” I whisper. “I’m sure there’s no need to panic, but I
definitely
heard some disturbance downstairs.”

“Add a line on your phone and dial nine-one-one.”

“But—”

“Now
, Shar!”

Though all is quiet down below, my fingers are trembling when I push the buttons.

* * *

“
S
o no enemies
that you can think of?” the uniformed officer asks once more, pushing at the brick with a pen. He’s a muscular man with large arms, nearly bursting from his button-down. The sight of his brawny figure has me longing for James, even though the officer is Puerto Rican, and they look absolutely nothing alike. “Anyone who’d want to hurt you or give you a little scare?” He tilts his head to the side, glancing at Nolan. “Ex boyfriend, maybe?”

Nolan looks at me with raised eyebrows, lips pursed. From the moment he arrived, a good ten minutes before the squad car, he’s been irritated all because I wouldn’t let him hold me like a frightened child.