Page 49 of Aced (Driven 4)
“I missed you too . . .” I wait for him to start the questions and as if on cue, the sigh falls from his mouth in resignation of ruining this moment.
“You two trying to give me a heart attack?” he asks, so many emotions overlapping in his voice in the single sentence.
“No. Everything is fine now. Just a few contractions they were able to stop. An ultrasound. Some fetal monitors. All routine things to make sure everything is okay,” I explain, attempting to hide how freaked out I was when being hooked up to machines to monitor the two of us. How the room was filled with a sea of scrubs, and even though Haddie held my hand and kept my anxiety at bay, all I wanted was Colton.
“Common things?” he asks, skepticism in his voice. “You’re still having issues with your blood pressure. That’s far from fucking common when we’re talking about you and the baby.”
Shit. I close my eyes momentarily, sucking up my cowardice, and prepare to tell him the truth.
“Want to fill me in here, Ry?”
My mind flickers to the many warnings we’ve been given about my pregnancy: The high risk, the damaged arteries from the accident and the miscarriage that could pose a problem with heavy bleeding during labor, the stress on my uterus that will increase the bigger the baby gets.
“You have every right to be mad at me,” I whisper, because for some reason it’s easier to say it that way. “I had the stress under control, attempting to keep my blood pressure in the range it’s supposed to be in . . . and then between the race and . . .” My words fall off as I replace them with a sigh representative of the heaviness in my heart about Zander.
“And what?” he prompts. “What else happened to push you too far?” The minute the words are out of his mouth I know he regrets them by the quick tensing of his body against mine.
Should I count the ways multiple things are causing stress right now?
“Zander called before the race started. He was scared, confuse
d. A wreck. His uncle is trying to foster him.” My words are so quiet. I try to keep my emotions in check since the constant rhythm of my heartbeat is visible on the monitor beside us.
“Okay,” he says slowly, and I can sense his mind working, trying to figure out where I’m going with this. “You gotta give me more than that to make me understand why it put you in the hospital.“
“It’s his uncle.” I swallow over the anger in my throat and continue. “The druggie asshole who wanted nothing to do with him when he first came to us.”
“Why come forward now?” His simple question, and the confusion in which he says it, expresses exactly how I feel. I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful for his identical response, because it adds validation to my gut reaction over this.
“Why do you think?” Disgust laces my tone and even though it’s not directed at him, I know he takes it that way.
“The video. Your work promo pictures splashed all over the fucking place,” he says as everything clearly clicks into place for him.
“Mm-hmm.” Because there is nothing else I can say without making it sound like I blame him in part for this turn of events.
“Money?” he asks.
“The monthly foster stipend isn’t a ton but—”
“But it’s enough to support your habit should you have one,” he muses.
“Or better yet,” I say as the thought hits me—staggers me even though I’d prefer to not even entertain the idea, “sell an interview with Zander to spill all kinds of juicy details on the woman helping run Corporate Cares who just so happens to be currently on leave from her job due to the release of a sex tape.”
“That could explain the sudden urgency.”
“Could.” I shrug, closing my eyes and concentrating on the feel of security I have with his arms wrapped around me.
“People will do anything for money.”
“And some people don’t even need money as a motivator.” The comment falls out without thought, but I know Colton knows I’m referring to Eddie. That damn video has become the catalyst to cause all of this: invasion of privacy, loss of normal freedoms, embarrassment, losing my job, Zander’s situation, me in the hospital, our life unraveling. Too. Many. Ripples.
“Ry . . .” My name comes out in a resigned sigh as he rubs the stubble of his chin against the back of my neck, causing my entire body to stand at attention. “You need to put you and the baby first.”
“I know. I do need to. I’m trying to . . .” And Colton is one hundred percent right . . . but in a sense, Zander is my child too. “But you didn’t hear him, Colton. He was terrified. Scared. Lost. And I didn’t know.” I take a deep breath and focus on the whir of the machine monitoring the baby’s movements. I focus on that and feel centered. “Teddy gave me some kind of explanation—the corporate song and dance that this is what we strive for. It’s all bullshit. He doesn’t have the connection with the boys I do . . . doesn’t know the ins and outs of their stories like I do.”
“He’ll fight for them though if it comes down to it,” Colton says softly, a quiet reassurance and an unintentional slap in the face to me all at once. But I don’t feel the slap’s sting. I know Colton’s comment comes from a place of love.
Those are my boys. My heart. No one will fight as hard for them as I will. I know this much to be true.
