Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (6 page)

I studied her face as her words sunk in. A management program at a movie theater. Not exactly the stellar future I had planned for myself in Robotics or Engineering.

Could I pull both off with a baby in tow? Who knew?

But, at this rate, I had to do what I had to do with a pregnant girlfriend. And sixteen-year-old fathers couldn’t afford to be choosy.

Next to bussing tables, greasy popcorn and movie reels were sounding better and better.

June 21
st

Another rough day. Hanging out with Roxie and binging on ice cream and chick flicks is just not enough. I miss Reed. We’ve hardly talked since I got home from my grandparents’ a couple days ago. I tried calling, but he didn’t answer his cell. When I called his house, his mom told me he left in a hurry and she didn’t know where he was. It felt like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. So, I got on my bike and rode out to Surfside. I know my guy like the back of my hand . . . no, scratch that. Who really knows the back of their hand? . . . I know my guy like the lyrics to our song. I’ve got him more than memorized. He is like the other me, my heart’s home away from home.

Sure enough, I found him, looking as sad as I’ve ever seen him. It suddenly dawned on me. He’s scared shitless, and it’s all my fault. Have I totally ruined his life by getting pregnant? By not considering other options for the baby? By not telling him my horrible truth? Should I?

I tried to find something to say to him. But how can I reassure him when I’m just as scared and confused as he is?

But, it got worse. He was crying. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Reed cry and my heart threatened to shatter into a billion razor-sharp pieces.

I love him so much. I wish I could fix this somehow.

Is Blood Thicker than Water?

T
he movie theater gig wasn’t so bad. I didn’t mind the shift work these last few days, or cleaning up gooey candy and gobs of popcorn. Heck, most of the time I could even stand my dickhead of a boss. What I had a hard time with were the stares. I think maybe the rumor mill was already churning.

I went to school with a lot of the kids who worked there, even called a few of them friend. It was especially cool that one of my buddies since middle school, Mike, worked there. But I had no idea why almost everyone else was acting so freakin’ weird. Pregnancy wasn’t contagious.

Maybe it was because I was the new kid. Maybe because I actually showed up on time and did my work—even stayed late a couple nights when Mr. Ross asked me to. Having a pregnant girlfriend makes a guy look at things a little differently.

But tonight, everyone was just ignoring me. Whatever. Made my job a whole lot easier.

I waited as the crowd thinned from the latest Disney flick, then grabbed my broom and dustpan and prepared to do battle with the destruction of a couple dozen preschoolers. It was amazing the mess those little monsters could do. And if I thought too hard about it, it blew my mind that in a few years, I’d be one of those dazed, frazzled parents.

No way.

I was determined to be a cool dad. Like mine. Or like mine used to be. I was gonna play Legos and army men with my kid. Take him to the beach and teach him to boogie board.

Or her.

My stomach dropped. What if it was a girl? Would I even know what to do?

The cell phone buzzed in my pocket. We weren’t really supposed to take personal calls on the clock, but nobody was looking. I glanced around one more time to make sure I was alone, then answered when I recognized Mel’s number. “Hello?” I whispered.

“Reed?” She sounded frightened.

“Mel? What’s wrong, babe?”

She hitched a breath and my stomach dropped. “Reed . . . can you come over?”

I looked up at the screen as the credits continued to roll by soundlessly. The words blurred together meaninglessly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared . . .” I heard the tears in her voice. “I’m bleeding.”

Bleeding? What did she mean bleeding? Why didn’t she just go to her parents if she cut herself? Then it dawned on me. “The baby?”

She sobbed.

“Mel!” I spouted, my sudden anxiety translating to my voice. “Mel, answer me. How much blood? Did you lose the baby? Are you hurting?”

“No,” she whispered, obviously holding back more tears.

“No, what?” I demanded, fear pumping adrenalin through me fast and fierce. But, why? Wouldn’t this give me what I wanted? A way out? The panic in her voice didn’t give me much time to examine my reaction.

“No, I’m not hurting. I’m not sure about the baby . . . it’s not a lot of blood now, but I’ve been spotting all day.”

I felt my own blood drain from my face. “All day?” I croaked.

“Yes.”

I dropped the broom where I stood. How had she let this go on so long and not at least gone to her mom? Jeez. “I’m on my way, babe. We’re going to the hospital.”

I hung up without saying goodbye and flew to the lobby. I found Mr. Ross and tried to catch my breath. “I need to go, sir. It’s an emergency.”

He eyed me up and down skeptically, sucked on his top teeth in no apparent hurry.

“Sir,” I pulled myself up taller and looked him dead in the eye. “My girlfriend is three months pregnant. She just called me because she’s been bleeding all day and I need to get her to the hospital. She’s scared and she needs me. Sir.”

He studied me a moment longer as something briefly flitted across his face—sympathy, understanding? Nah. Not Mr. Ross—then he nodded, apparently deciding to trust me. “All right, Young. But don’t make a habit of this, or I’ll can you.”

“Yes, sir.”

I bolted the minute he dismissed me and ran for my car. I sped out of the parking lot and headed for Mel’s, wishing I didn’t stink of movie theater popcorn.

I pulled up into her driveway and found her waiting for me, tears streaking down her face. She opened the passenger side door and wilted into the seat. We’d been through a lot these last weeks, but this was a new and vulnerable Mel like I’d never seen. A protective instinct reared up in me as I leaned over and pulled her into my arms. “Where’re your parents? Chris?”

“At some out-of-town retreat thing with Dad’s company. They’ve been gone all day,” she mumbled against my neck, her fingers clutching my shoulders.

Oh, God, she’d been alone all day. I pulled back and studied her face. “Why didn’t you call them? Or call me sooner?”

She shrugged. “I thought it’d go away.” She sat back and glanced down at her hands. “I was scared.”

Ah, Mel
. “It’ll be okay,” I said, more to placate her than because I meant it. Hell, what did I know about these things? Didn’t bleeding mean she was miscarrying? Shit.

I brushed my hand across hers one more time then reversed out of the driveway. We drove to the hospital in silence, Melissa staring out the window at the traffic, much like when we made our first trip to see Dr. Foster. Only this time, her body was rigid with obvious fear, and my body was numb.

I had no idea what to feel. What I wanted.

I finally got her to the ER and I took her hand and led her inside, past a woman holding a crying baby, which Mel blatantly ignored. Past a group of men who were absolutely filthy and reeked of alcohol. She pressed against me as we made our way to the check-in desk, I’m sure looking like the two scared kids we were.

“Can I help you?” the young, blond nurse asked.

Melissa looked down, saying nothing. I guessed it was up to me. I stepped forward, hoping for some privacy. “Um, yes,” I glanced around to make sure only the nurse could hear me, “my girlfriend is bleeding.”

The nurse’s eyebrows crinkled. “Bleeding?”

Oh, right. “Yes. She’s pregnant. About three months.”

Understanding dawned. “Right. And how long has she been bleeding?”

I glanced at Mel, who finally answered. “Since this morning.”

“Any clots?”

Mel shook her head.

“Abdominal pain?”

“No.”

They went through a few more questions to figure out how much Mel had been bleeding, how far along she was, and her insurance information. “Do you want us to call your parents, sweetie?” the nurse asked.

Mel stared at her blankly. “Why?”

“Well . . .” She smiled as she led us back to a small curtained off area behind the nurses’ station. “It’s up to you. You are a minor, but your pregnancy gives you privacy and treatment rights so you can decide in this situation.”

“Oh. Okay,” Mel said. “You can call them.”

The nurse nodded and walked away, glancing at her clipboard.

Melissa never let go of my hand.

“Are you scared?” I asked.

“Yes,” she admitted in a throaty whisper.

“I know. Me, too.” And I suddenly realized, inexplicably, I really was. Did I care about this baby now?

She blinked some tears from her eyes and kept her gaze pinned to her lap. “You know what the worst part is?”

“No. What?”

She met my gaze, her pain ripping through me like my own. “I’m not really sure if I’m more scared I’m losing the baby or that I’m not.”

I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

Her face crumpled. “It’s horrible and selfish . . .” She choked back a sob. “But . . . I think part of me kind of hoped that I was having a miscarriage so we could just go back to being us. That you wouldn’t have to feel so much pressure.” She studied my eyes for several heartbeats, as if searching for some kind of truth.

I nodded, unable to speak. How had she ripped the words from my soul?

“Am I a horrible person?”

“No, baby, you’re not.” I kissed her brow. “You’re not.” No, underneath all those hormones and tears and anxiety still beat the heart of the girl who held mine.

“But I didn’t mean it. I’d never want to lose your baby. Not yours. I love you, Reed—”

We were interrupted when a different nurse came in. “We got hold of your parents, Melissa. They said to tell you they’re on their way home and to please call them right away. I guess your cell phone is off?” She waited a beat while she applied a blood pressure cuff to Mel’s arm. “So, I have a few questions . . .” She moved to a computer terminal on the wall.

“Did you two have sex recently?” she asked, as if it wasn’t the most personal, embarrassing question ever.

Mel blushed and glanced at me, then back at the nurse. “Uh, no.”

No, we hadn’t had sex in like, forever. She barely wanted to touch me since . . . since the night of Noah’s party, I’d guess, if not before that. Pregnancy hormones sucked.

I was beginning to think pregnancy sucked in general.

“No fever?” The nurse didn’t seem to care that we were mortified as she moved on and repeated the questions the first one had already asked.

“No.” Mel shook her head.

No fever, no clots, no pain . . . same as before. Just spotting since this morning. I wished they’d just get on with it and tell us if the baby was gone.

“Okay,” the nurse finally said, “let’s see if we can hear a heartbeat.”

My heart slammed into my throat. She pulled out a small box with a cord and handheld piece attached, pulled up Mel’s shirt, gobbed some goo on her belly, and pressed the wand to her lower stomach.

There was a loud static . . . more static. She moved it around and searched. And searched.

But nothing.

Tears dripped from Mel’s eyes onto the pillowcase as she gripped my hand painfully.

No. No. No. No.

The nurse pulled the wand back and gently wiped the gel from Melissa’s belly. “It’s still early,” she said with kind, smiling eyes. “Let me go get the doctor.”

Melissa was crying in earnest by the time the doctor came in, and I was doing my best to hold her—and myself—together.

“Hi,” he said. “I’m Dr. Patel.” He sat on the stool in front of us and we basically went over the same stuff for a third time. But at least he was kind about it.

Melissa looked sort of resigned to it all now and stared blankly at him, answering him by rote.

“Well,” he said at last, “since the nurse had a hard time finding the baby’s heart tones by Doppler, I’m going to do a quick bedside ultrasound so we can take a look, okay?”