Page 11 of Outlaw Xmas
Clotille placed her hand over Baylee’s and squeezed it. “This is so exciting. You have to go to a doctor right away. Dr. Neely is the best. I got her name from Cara when I was pregnant with James.”
Baylee pulled her hand away. “Wait. Stop. I’m not pregnant. Axe and I don’t want kids.”
“Who doesn’t want kids? I’m so happy my Paisey’s in my life,” Cherri said softly.
“Paisley’s adorable, and so are Harley, Braxton, Isa, James, and all the other kids, but we just don’t want them. Maybe when we’re in our late thirties we may change our minds, but we’re good the way we are.”
“Just because you don’t want kids doesn’t mean you’re not pregnant,” Belle said.
“And the pill isn’t foolproof. You’re one of the two percent like I was,” Addie added.
All of a sudden, a wave of nausea washed over Baylee. She covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom, hoping she could make it in time and not embarrass the hell out of herself.
Twenty minutes later, she splashed cold water on her face and finger-combed her hair. Dread wove through her as she tried to remember the last time she’d had her period. It seemed that she was a little late, but she was never regular like most of her friends were.
“I’ve just got the flu. That’s all,” she said to her reflection. Drying her face, she fought down the nausea as she decided to call it quits and go home to get under the covers.
The knowing looks on the old ladies’ faces irked her. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried to come today. I’m going to go home and get into bed. This flu is the shits. Call me and update me about the fundraiser, Belle. I’ll talk to you all later.”
“If you need Dr. Neely’s phone number, let me know,” Clotille said as she left.
Baylee looked over her shoulder and mustered a smile. “Thanks, but a few days of rest, soda crackers, and chicken soup will do wonders.”
I can’t be pregnant.
And with that thought in her mind, she stepped out into the sunshine and breathed in the frosty air.
Chapter Four
Sofia
Sofia swayed overto the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Cupping the cool water in her hands, she rinsed her beaten face, wincing when her fingers touched the skin. Drying the water gently from her face with a towel, dread wove through her as she assessed what Tigger’s recent tantrum had done to her. There was a cut above her right eye, the blood already dried and brown, and bruises were beginning to form on both cheeks. She glanced down, noting the grip marks on her arms were pronounced; he loved to keep her from running as he raged and screamed.
She hung the towel up and walked slowly to the couch in the living room. When she sat down, a small yelp escaped her lips. She placed her hands on her belly and pressed down, hoping the pain would subside. It felt like her guts were on fire.
She glanced over at the small china cabinet they’d purchased together when Tigger had first been released from prison. How happy she’d been back then. She’d waited four long years for his release, marking each day off her calendar with a black marker. Twice a month, she’d drive two hundred miles to Canon City to see him, then turn around and drive back to Pinewood Springs. Back then, she’d thought she’d die from missing him so much. The whole reason he had done time was because he was protecting her from some jerk who was coming on to her and saying nasty things. Tigger flipped out and had practically beaten the man to death.He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t love me, would he?She asked herself that question a lot.
The first six months after Tigger had been released on parole, they couldn’t get enough of each other. They fucked, made love, watched silly movies, went for long rides on his Harley, and ate tons of pizza. It had been romantic and magical, and she couldn’t remember a time in her life that she’d been happier.
And then it had ended.
If she had to pinpoint the exact time it’d stopped, it was when they went to Steelers with the rest of the Insurgents and she was sitting with Cara, Addie, Cherri, and Kimber, laughing and talking with them. Tigger was with his brothers, but she’d noticed he kept looking at her, and each time she’d glanced at him, his gaze grew more hostile and ominous. Not knowing what was going on with him, she presumed something had come up with one of the rival clubs and he was super pissed about it. A lot of the Insurgent men wore perpetual scowls or menacing looks on their faces, so she’d grown used to it.
When they’d said their goodbyes and went to the parking lot, he turned her toward him and smacked her full force across the face. Her teeth had rattled and she’d been so surprised by it that she simply stood there gaping. He then grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against his Harley. People had started milling out of the bar by that point, so he walked her over to the bushes and threw her into them, then started choking her. She’d clawed at his hands, but the rage and anger flashing in his eyes made her think she was going to die. Not sure what had provoked such a reaction in him, she helplessly tried to push him away. And then he’d let go.
“Find your own fuckin’ way home. Next time you ignore me or look at another man, I’ll beat the shit outta you!” He’d stomped away, leaving a sobbing, confused woman to fend for herself.
From that day on, he lived with anger in his heart. Of course, she’d been too ashamed to ask Cara or Cherri for help, so she waited in the bushes until they’d all left, then walked the four miles to her home. By the time she’d arrived at the house, the rage had been replaced by professions of love in his quiet moments of regret. She’d forgiven him, believing his words that it would never happen again. And now, three years later, he still professed love and his regret, but the abuse had become more frequent.
I’ve become my mother.The irony touched her deeply as she remembered how she’d sworn to herself that she’d never let a man place an angry hand on her like her mother had.
Sofia swung her legs up and leaned back, her head on the couch arm, her legs stretched out. The bruises would slowly vanish and the broken bones would heal, but what about her battered emotions? She was torn inside and those tears remained open wounds, never healing or scarring. The man she loved did that to her, and how could he? He left her a ghost of a person, living but not alive. She stifled a sob with the scuffed palm of her hand and turned her face into the pillow, her salty tears clinging to the cracks on her lips.
The chime of the doorbell made her heart race.What time is it? I haven’t made dinner or anything. Don’t let it be him. Not yet.She pushed herself up and shuffled over to the door while smoothing her hair down.He’s going to be mad that I don’t have any makeup on. I didn’t know it was so late!With trembling fingers, she undid the locks and opened the door, her stomach in knots and her heart in her throat.
“Hiya, Sofia. I was in the neighborhood.” Wheelie’s gray eyes smiled.
“Uh… what time is it?” she whispered.
