Page 85 of Nine Month Contract
Pregnancy loss isn’t something I’ve let myself really think about since we got through the first trimester. But early labor can still happen, and the thought of seeing Trista experience a horror like that is something I can hardly stomach.
I’m soaked and out of breath by the time I step into the barn. I look around, expecting to find Trista, but she’s nowhere. Millie, Reginald, and Handsome are all up and look visibly spooked by whatever is going on. Something definitely isn’t right if Reginald is awake.
A strange noise echoes from the area where the chicken coop is,so I rush through the barn door that leads out to the pasture. I squint through the darkness as the deafening rain hammers down on the tin roof overhang. I turn the corner to where the chicken coop is located, and it’s there that I find Trista hunched over what used to be her chicken enclosure. She’s scantily dressed in her cowboy boots, a pair of shorts, and a baggy black T-shirt. My heart squeezes at the sight of her soaked to the bone and covered in mud.
“Are you okay?” I yell through the rain, and Trista’s head snaps up, clearly surprised at my presence.
Her face is soaked with rain and tears as she wipes at her nose and points at the pile of rubble. “Coyotes ripped apart my chicken coop and attacked my chickens.” A strangled sob erupts from her throat.
Relief hits me like a ton of bricks when I see she’s okay, and the problem has nothing to do with her and everything to do with these damn chickens she’s in love with. Guilt niggles as I move closer to her. She holds her hands up, shaking her head adamantly.
“They ran off when I screamed, but there’s feathers and blood everywhere.”
My eyes tighten as I look at the carnage, thanking fuck that none of this is from her.
She grips the sides of her soaked shirt and bites her lip, clearly deep in thought. “Some of them might have gotten away, so I’m going to look for a flashlight and see if any are still alive out there.”
She moves to walk past me, and I step into her path, stopping her in her tracks. “Trista, no.”
“Why not?” She stands under the tin roof and looks up at me, shock and defiance all over her face.
Every protective bone in my body roars to life as I glance out at the dark woods behind her. My fists clench at just the thought of her out there in this storm with coyotes nearby. I swallow the knot in my throat, and my voice is tight when I say, “It’s lightning out. You could get seriously hurt.”
“But this is my fault, Wyatt!” she cries, her eyes red-rimmed. “I’m the one who installed that stupid chicken coop. I knew it wasn’t sturdy,but I thought it would be fine. This is on me. This is all on me! What if some are still alive and terrified out there? I have to look for them.”
“Lucky,” I urge, my hand flattening against her swollen stomach as she attempts to walk past me again. “I can’t let you go out there.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Wyatt!” she screeches, her voice venomous. Her eyes are fiery as she looks up at me, her hot breath dancing on my lips as moisture slides down her face and mixes with her tears.
“I am begging you,” I croak, treading carefully because she is a live wire I’m desperate not to trip. “I’m just trying to keep you safe. It’s not just you at stake here.”
My hand twitches on her belly, and she instantly looks down at where I’m touching her as her chin trembles. I can see her mind whirling with this new information. Like she forgot she was pregnant for a moment.
She steps away from me, moving back into the rain as her own hands replace mine. She holds herself protectively for a moment as she looks up at the sky, the rain pounding down on her face like she’s only now just realizing we’re in the middle of a bad storm.
She never touches herself like this, and the sight of her embracing her belly with tears in her eyes, soaking wet in the rain, hair slicked down to her face, is soul crushing. I don’t just want to protect the baby at this moment. I want to protect her. I want to comfort her. I want to hold her. I want to burn the world to the ground for making her hurt like this.
Her shoulders quake as she begins to cry. “I’m such a fuckup.”
My chest concaves as I pull her back under the roof, my hand pushing the strands of hair stuck to her face. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am,” she bellows and jerks herself away from me. “I want to open my own animal sanctuary when I can’t even keep chickens alive? What the fuck am I thinking?”
“Accidents happen,” I reply firmly, my hands itching to hold her. “This isn’t your fault.”
She nods and bites her lip, sniffling loudly as she gazes out into the darkness. “I’m sure if any are still alive, the coyotes will have eatenthem by now anyway.” She kicks her mud-covered boot into the ground and shakes her head. “I’m going to bed.”
She moves to head inside, and I call out to her. “Can I do anything? Do you want me to come up? Or I can carry Reggie upstairs for you if you want? Would that help?” I sound like an idiot, but I want to do something. I feel fucking awful she was out here dealing with this all on her own. I will literally do anything. I’ll sleep on the damn floor with the pig if she wants.
She shakes her head, and her tone is resolute when she replies, “He’s better off without me.”
The following morning, I wake to a wet nose in my face. I peel my eyes open, feeling crusty and strung out as I cuddle the little kitten, who must have known I needed some extra love today.
“Good morning, Milkshake.” I drop soft kisses on her black-and-white fur. Milkshake seemed like a fitting name for her after I saw how she brought all the boys to the yard on that jobsite last week. She had Calder wrapped around her finger for sure.
My chest aches as memories of last night hit me, and I glance at my phone to see it’s after nine, and I have three missed calls from work. It’s still raining outside, so maybe I can use the weather as an excuse. Mountain mudslide, perhaps? Seems a little dramatic, but it’s worth a shot. Either way, it won’t be the last time Earl threatens to fire me.
I hop out of bed and rifle through my clothes for something clean to wear. I showered after the chicken massacre last night, so I can skip that step this morning, but my hair is a disaster from falling asleep with it wet. I throw it up into a topknot and brush my teeth. No time for makeup today.
