Page 66 of Savior
“I want to tell you I’m sorry about everything.” I say, grabbing the bottle of wine to pour him a glass.
“Yeah. Me too.”
I serve us the dinner I made, and we eat in relative silence. He seems very distracted, his mind clearly somewhere else, but he does ask me about my day. Stalling, I tell him about lunch with Latisha and then the phone call I got from my mother. About all her plans and expectations. I stop talking though, when his already dismal expression only becomes darker and resentful of her.
“What happened today?” I ask, steering the conversation away from my mother. He really does look terrible, even before she pissed him off again.
“I beat the shit out of Daniel.” He says flatly. “I went to the house to confront both him and Lucinda, now that she’s back from whatever hole she’s been in. It all went to shit before I could get anything out of either of them. But now she knows I know about the letter. If she refuses to let me see Maddie, I’ll just remind her that the statute of limitations is ten years for conspiracy. By then, Maddie will be a teenager. We won’t need Lucinda’s permission to be together... Assuming Maddie actually wants anything to do with me after today, Lucinda won’t be able to control her so easily.”
Maddie… Maddie… Maddie…
I mentally chastise myself for being jealous on behalf of the child he doesn’t even know about yet. Maddie is a sweet, beautiful, innocent little girl, deserving of Dean’s love as well.
He stops talking to finish off his wine and I offer him some more. He looks at me curiously. “Why aren’t you having any? I just realized you haven’t touched it.”
“I’m sticking with ginger ale.”
The look in his eyes shifts to concern. “Still not feeling well? Did your blood work turn up anything? I forgot to ask last night, I’m sorry… I’m fucking up left and right with you.”
“No. You aren’t. And a lot happened last night to distract you.” I pat his hand.
“Are you alright? Did the test turn up anything?”
“It did, actually.” I say, and the worrisome expression on his handsome face intensifies.
“Jesus fuck, Vanna…” his fingers grip my hand tightly. “What’s wrong?”
I smile, leaning forward to pick up the little black and orange box, handing it to him.
“What’s this?”
“Answers to all the questions I know are swirling around in that head of yours.” I give his hand a slight squeeze back. “And maybe even answers to some unspoken prayers.”
I release his hand and sit back to watch him open the box. Removing the little infant sized Harley Davidson skull cap inside, he holds it in his hands for a moment, before looking up at me.
“I stopped by the Harley Davidson shop with Latisha today. I didn’t have time to have one made up with the Saviors MC logo on it.” I shrug. “But we’ve still got eight months, or so.”
His look of confusion morphs into a blank stare. I’m not even sure he’s breathing now…
“Dean? Did you hear me?” I ask, but he says nothing, sitting still as a statue. Worry of my own begins to take hold of me. Is it possible he doesn’t want this? Is he trying to hide his disappointment? Is Maddie all he really wants? “Say something...”
His eyes drop back down to the little hat in his hands, before he places it down on the dining room table. I can’t help but notice the slight tremble in them.
I’m not illiterate. I know what the fuck I’m looking at. I can read the results printed on this piece of paper… But I can actually feel my own brain malfunctioning as I stare at it. The deep rooted, broken part of me, reeling against it, refusing to fully comprehend what’s clearly stated on this piece of paper.
“I’m pregnant.”
She spells it out for me anyway, and her words take the breath straight out of my lungs. My chest constricts like a Goddamned vice around my heart. They’re words I never expected to ever hear her say. Words that hurt too much to even allow myself to imagine what they would sound like spoken from her lips. Instantaneously, I break into a cold sweat.
There’s no way… It’s impossible…
“No, it isn’t.” She says softly, as if she can suddenly read my thoughts. Or perhaps I said that bit out loud? A warm, sweet smile pulls at her mouth as she reaches out to touch my hand. “It’s yours, Dean.”
I can’t fuckin’ breathe… I hear her… I can comprehend what she’s saying… But my own Demons are fighting me. Desperate and ravenously determined to devour what’s left of my blackened soul.
It can’t be yours! They hiss, echoing in the dark corners of my mind.
Black spots begin to dance within my vision, partially obscuring her face. Her increasingly concerned expression, as her hand squeezes mine harder still.
