Page 16 of Starving Butterfly
“Haven’t decided yet, is there a reason to stay?”
She sighed, and I backed away, giving her space, and set the pistol on the counter, but still within reach.
“I was really hoping to find some leftover fettuccine but all you have is rancid OJ like some fucking drunk.” Her nose scrunched up as she turned towards me. She looked good, well-rested and glowing with beauty. My eyes raked across her skin and paused at the curve beneath her shirt. It was wrong. Every thought left me as I stared at her round stomach.
“Y-your pregnant?” I stuttered.
“Yeah hence the cravings. Don’t be so surprised it’s a naturally occurring consequence of sex.” She moved on to the cabinets, snatching a jar of Skippy’s peanut butter from the shelf. Then pulled open the drawer next to the oven.
I was too busy scrambling for any semblance of thought other than pregnant to notice she’d opened the one drawer she shouldn’t have.
“Lucky me, peanut butter and my favorite knife back on the same day.” She unsheathed the large K-Bar and stuck it in the jar of peanut butter. Proceeded to stir the jar and then scoop up some of the peanut butter on the knifes tip. The moan that left her had my cock remembering the fondness of her. “This hits thespot.” She moaned around the smacking of her lips against the sharp blade.
“Is it — could it be mine?” I stuttered.
I didn’t think I ever wanted kids after the way my father raised Shaw and me, but as soon as I saw her pregnant belly, something fluttered within me.
“Funny that you care now,” she rolled her eyes and continued to lap at her snack.
“I always cared…” I didn’t think I was protective of her at first, but the anger that surged in me at the thought of someone hurting her told me otherwise.
Except I was the one who hurt her.
I shot her.
She shrugged. She fucking shrugged.
My feet moved faster than any thought, and the next thing I knew, she held a peanut butter-covered knife at the tip of my Adam’s apple. Her eyes caught on something I could only assume was blood as it trickled down my neck.
“Don’t.” She whispered.
I swallowed. “Why?”
“I’m not fragile because I am pregnant. You shot me. I don’t trust you.”
“I did it to save you. He would have killed you. The knife was poised at your fourth or fifth rib. The bullet grazed you, if I wanted to kill you a simple headshot while you stood jittery between those lackeys would have been sufficient.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She sighed, and the knife’s tip dug into my neck deeper. I felt the sharp sting as the blade pressed deeper into my skin. A steady trail of blood ran into my collar of my shirt. I could smell the metallic tang as it mingled with the nutty scent of Skippy’s. I’d had been more grossed out if it hadn’t been so serious.
“No, I am trying to apologize.” I huffed. I didn’t know what about the woman that always had me on my knees, but I would be damned if I didn’t take the moments I could with her. She pulled the knife away, and I loosed a breath. It was true that I never intended to kill her. Hell, I loved her. I couldn’t have her though; it was clear in the way she stood defensively. Bitterness crept under my skin. “Does your husband know you’re pregnant with someone else’s child?”
She started laughing, and I had failed to see the point of it all.
“My husband would be the last to know and if you so much as utter a word to Cole I will strangle you.” She bit out coldly.
“Pretty sure he’d kill me before I got a foot in the door. Or did you not remember what happened at the church?”
“It all blurs together —my life isn’t exactly free from trauma. I —” she sighed and then turned. “It doesn’t concern you what I do with my husband or not. You chose your side.”
The truth sat heavy in my chest. I didn’t know what side I was on anymore.
13
MAKE ME FEEL LIKE FIRE
November 23rd
“You need to come with me,” he spoke as if he were coaxing a scared kitten, and I threw my head back laughing.
