Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (18 page)

She eyed me warily but didn’t say a word as I closed the door behind me.

The room smelled of her. Victoria’s Secret spritzer, wildflower candles, the clean laundry piled in the corner . . . just her.

We studied each other for several heartbeats as the tears continued to stream down her face. I didn’t trust myself to say anything. I didn’t know what to say.

But, as I took a tentative step toward her, she hurtled herself from the bed and threw herself into my arms with a cry, nearly knocking me down.

I held her, stroking her back and shushing her for probably ten minutes until she finally drew back just a few inches and peered into my eyes. “You came.”

“Of course I came. I’m just sorry it took me so long . . . I didn’t know.”

She dipped her eyes. “I know.”

I continued rubbing her back, enjoying the fact that she was letting me. “Are you okay?”

She snuggled into me a little bit and my hope inched up a notch. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I was having contractions and I thought maybe my water broke.”

My heart seized. “What?” I pulled back and made her look at me. “Isn’t it way too early for that?”

She smiled. “Yes. But it didn’t. I’m just an idiot. The nurses told me it was either normal discharge or I peed on myself.”

“Oh.” I relaxed a little and returned her smile. Especially when I noticed the bump of her belly pressing against me for the first time. “And the contractions? False alarm?”

“Yes. Again, I was an idiot. They just told me I was dehydrated and maybe a little stressed.”

I swallowed. I could take a little of the blame for the stress. I brushed a stray hair back from her cheek. “Well, I’m glad you and Peanut are okay.”

She nodded as her breath stuttered then rushed out. Was that relief? “I’m glad you’re here.”

I studied her eyes, trying to gauge what she was saying. “I missed you, Mel.”

“I missed you, too.”

“And I’m really sorry about what I said. That I pushed you.” I glanced away toward her drill team awards, which only firmed my resolve. This disaster had taken just as much away from her. I turned back. “I was just scared, okay? But I want to be with you. With Peanut.” I leaned in and brushed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “I love you. So much.”

Her sigh whispered across my mouth and I felt her melt into me. “I love you, too.” She pulled back and looked into my eyes. “And I understand your fear. I’m scared, too. Really scared.”

Anxiety and fear reflected back at me from her eyes. But she had nothing to be scared of. I had her. I wasn’t letting go.

Even her father and brother, in all their protectiveness, couldn’t possibly understand her. Not like I did. I had to make this right. “It’s okay.”

We sealed our deal of fear with a kiss.

I had my babies back.

September 27
th
Continued

False alarm. I feel like an idiot. Just some contractions the nurse called Braxton-Hicks, and either normal discharge or I peed on myself. I’m betting pee. This baby is like a lead weight on my bladder. The nurses gave me fluids and some shots of medicine that made me all jittery, then sent me home.

I’m kinda glad my mom called Reed even when I asked her not to. My parents are trying, and I know Chris cares, and I have Roxanne, but there is no one like Reed. Not to me.

Thank God he came. I’ve realized how scared I was without him and how much I’ve missed him. I want to keep pushing him away, but I’m worn down. I just can’t anymore. If this time apart has taught me anything, it’s that I need him. I hate feeling weak, but there it is. As much as I say I’ll do this alone, I know I can’t. Not without Reed.

He said he was afraid. Hell, doesn’t he think I know that? That I am, too? But we agreed to not talk about adoption again then he held me until he had to go home. And it was just like it used to be . . . we talked about all kinds of stuff. Serious stuff. Silly stuff. We kissed. We even laughed.

There were no monsters tonight. Just Reed.

I have my world back . . . at least for now.

Time Bombs are Messy Business

A
ll I can say is thank God for small favors. Robin went home to Dallas, or wherever she was from, and there was no inkling from Jonah that she had spilled the beans about our encounter in my backseat. I had dodged a bullet. A missile, more like it.

But the guilt was still skinning me alive.

By the time I picked Mel up for school the following Monday morning, I felt like a living cadaver. I smiled into her eyes and knew I had to tell her. Eventually. Maybe.

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “Hi.”

“Hey.” I backed up and started driving.

“You care if we stop and get breakfast? I didn’t eat and I’d kill for a donut.”

I glanced into her face just as the rising sunlight sliced across her profile, lighting up her whiskey colored hair like a spotlight. “Sure, babe.”

She grinned and settled further down in the seat. “So, you never said . . . did you and Jonah go to Homecoming?” Her fingers toyed with the seatbelt. “Obviously, I was a little busy.”

Tell her. Tell her. This is your chance.

God, could she hear my heart battering my ribs so badly I thought I might have bruises? “Uh . . . yeah. The game sucked.”

“Just you two? Did Chloe go? Are she and Jonah still together?” She glanced over, something strange in her eyes and voice. Jealousy? No, not quite. Again, I wondered why she’d been acting so weird about Jonah . . . or was it still the Chloe thing?

Tell her.

“Yeah, Chloe went.” That wasn’t a lie. But I was a chicken.

“Ah . . .” She turned back to the road. She didn’t question me further. Why would she? She’d have no reason to think I’d get half-drunk on Vodka then nearly have sex with another girl. “I’m sorry I missed the game.” And, instantly I knew she was thinking of her drill team friends, the game, all she’d lost.

Not my stupidity.

Guilt kicked my ass again.

“You didn’t miss much,” I reassured her in a small voice.

She nodded, but didn’t say more. I drove and turned into Billy’s Donuts, ran inside and got her favorite—two lemon-filled and a carton of milk.

She ate while we drove to school, and some of her melancholy mood—and my guilt—seemed to fade with each passing mile.

I finally parked and turned to her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You sure? No more contractions?”

“No.”

I reached over and took her hand, thankful we were sort of back. “I’m sorry things are different and screwed up. But don’t let one stupid Homecoming ruin things for you. The game sucked, I promise.”

A wobbly smile curled her lips. “Yeah?”

I squeezed her fingers. “Yeah. Terrible. We were annihilated.”

A little giggle escaped. “Well . . .” Her eyes roamed toward the school and I watched the same people she did as they laughed and ambled toward the building, appearing to not have a care in the world. Normal teenaged lives, much like what we had just a few months ago. She slid her gaze back to me. “I don’t mind that things are different, Reed. And yes, we made a huge mistake and screwed up, but I kinda figured out these last couple weeks when we were broken up . . .”

I waited, breathed. “What? What did you figure out?”

“I—” Her liquid brown eyes poured into mine. I could almost feel her heart aching. “I figured out that I’m not as strong as I want to be. As I wish I was. I want to be able to say I’ll do this alone, because it’s what my mind wants, but my heart knows I can’t do it without you. And I hate that I’m so weak.”

I scooped her into my arms. “You’re not weak, baby. You’re one of the strongest people I know.” I kissed the top of her head, her temple, as love flooded me and I felt guilty for it. I don’t deserve the trust she’s placing in me.

She clutched at my shirt. “Reed . . .”

Her hot tears soak my shoulder. “Oh, Mel, I’m not going anywhere.” I swear it like a penance. “Never.”
Never, never, never
. . .

I swallow my fears and anxieties like doses of bitter medicine; shove them back to be examined another time. What was important was that I had Mel and Peanut back, she loved me, she needed me, and my world was back on its axis.

School settled back into a routine. Jonah and Chloe were a couple and I avoided him when he was with her as much as possible. Mel seemed less miserable now and I sure didn’t want to stir up that hornet’s nest. The only things to give away that our lives were not back to normal were her ever-growing belly and my ever-growing worry. Some days I thought I might implode.

But I tucked it away.

Away from Jonah. He’d never understand.

Away from my parents. They were still trapped in their own denial and disappointment.

Away from Melissa. I’d sworn to stay and make this work. Not burden her with my fear.

I suffered in silence.

And it sucked.

But the deal with ticking time bombs? They always explode. And it’s messy business.

I just didn’t know when my fuse was going to blow.

Thirteen days after Mel and I made up, I was at work closing up the theater, thankful for the quiet. No screeching kids, no relentless pinging of popcorn kernels popping, no idle chatter. Nothing. Just the
scratch
of my broom against the floor and my thoughts, which were blessedly quiet.

Suddenly, Mr. Ross’ booming voice echoed through the theater. “Young!”

My head snapped up. “Sir?”

“In my office. Now.” He turned without waiting for my response and I watched his retreating back in shock as my heart began to thud. I hadn’t been in his office since the day I’d left when Mel was bleeding. He didn’t call you in there just to chat. Shit.

I tucked my broom in the corner, swiped my sweaty hands down my pants and trudged that way.

I knocked on the doorframe and poked my head in his open door. “Sir?”

Mr. Ross didn’t glance up from his computer screen. His round face looked drawn, dark circles ringed his eyes like half-moons. “Come in. Sit down.”

I sat in the same chair he’d interviewed me in and noticed the scent of stale coffee; the half-eaten slice of sausage pizza on his desk.

He finally pivoted his chair and pinned me with his eyes. “Young.”

“Sir?”

“I had you train Timmons, didn’t I?” He folded his hands across his stomach and leaned back.

I swallowed. “Jeremiah? Yes, sir.”

He said nothing for a moment, his eyes taking me in. I squirmed in my seat under his scrutiny. He tapped his index fingers together. “And . . . what did you think of him?”

I shrugged, not sure where this was going. “I . . . he was fine, I guess.”

Mr. Ross sat forward, his chair squeaking painfully. “Well, I have a problem, Young. You wanna know what that is?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he apparently didn’t care what I had to say.

“I have a problem with thieves.”

“I—” My gut turned to ice. He thought . . . ?

I stared blankly at him, as the blood rushed through my ears loud enough to rival the ocean. Was I about to get fired? I was guilty of a lot of things . . . but not this.