Two Roads Page 5

The next day, Elliot leaves. He wraps me in a tight bear hug before he gets into the old jeep with Luis. I can see the worry etched onto his face. And it kills me that I’m the reason it exists.

  After giving me another dose of the cherry-flavored syrup later that afternoon, Luis informs me he’s lined up a doctor for me to see. A baby doctor. He hands me a crumpled piece of paper with a hand drawn mud map and an address that’s barely decipherable.

  “You mean, an obstetrician?” I ask him.

  He clicks his fingers. “Yeah, that.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say gratefully, feeling blessed to have someone—a virtual stranger—watching out for me. I still haven’t heard the full story about how he ended up working with Jase and Elliot to bust me out of Emilio’s compound, but I know the three have some kind of bizarre bromance going on. It’s kind of cute.

  “Come see me before you go,” he says, giving me a meaningful stare. I nod, pocketing the directions.

  Ten minutes before we are due to leave, I find him in the small woodshed attached to the back of the house. He’s sitting on an upturned milk crate, smoking a cigarette, almost like he’s been waiting for me. He stands and crushes the cigarette under his boot as I approach, waving the smoke away as if he’s forming a path of clean air for me. It’s insane how attentive these three are being on account of my being pregnant.

  “Thanks again,” I say. “For setting this up. And for, you know…everything.”

  He smiles. “You’re welcome,” he says. “Good choice on the outfit.”

  I look down at what I’m wearing. I’m not sure what he’s saying until he pokes my arm. “The marks,” he says. “Don’t show the doctor, and if he sees, make something up.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

  He shrugs, and starts walking toward the house. Right. That must be it.

  The drive takes us half an hour. It’d be quicker, but a lot of the roads here are unsealed, and with the recent rain, Jase has to drive carefully to avoid us getting bogged. I can just imagine how that would turn out. Once we’re at the hospital and settled into the consultation room, Jase starts poking around at the equipment as I watch him from my spot on the exam table.

  He pulls a face at me as he picks up a small replica of a woman’s pelvis with a cabbage patch doll’s head stuffed through the middle. It’s such a light-hearted thing, such an innocent moment, that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at how little of these moments we’ve actually had together since he figured out who I was. I decide to go with laughing, and I have to cover my mouth with my hands to stop from sounding like the hysterical pregnant lady.

  He puts the pelvis-doll display back down and smiles at me, a boyish grin that shows his dimples.

  “I haven’t seen those in years,” I say, reaching out and pressing my finger into the deep dimple in his right cheek. He just keeps on smiling, a glint in his eye, and I realize that maybe he’s telling the truth. He’s excited. He’s actually happy to be here with me, even after everything that’s happened, even knowing that there is a chance this baby might belong to a monster instead of to him.

  That realization makes me tear up, and his smile turns to concern. “You okay?”

  I nod, smiling through my tears. “I’m better than okay,” I reply, reaching over and squeezing his hand.

  The doctor arrives eventually, asking me a whole bunch of questions. When was my last period? Have I taken any drugs? Of course, I lie when he asks me that. Jase cannot find out what happened.

  After he’s finished with his boring questions, and poked around my stomach a little bit—I’ve explained my wound as a burn from a wood fire, though I don’t know if he buys it—he sends us down the corridor with a slip of paper. As we’re walking to the ultrasound department, Jase stops me with a tug at my elbow.

  “Why did you lie?” he asks me. “That’s not a burn.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know. How do I explain what really happened?”

  Jase seems to think about that for a moment.

  “Like, really,” I add. “How do I even begin to put that into words?”

  “Yeah,” he says, and the anger is back. “I suppose you’re right.”

  I don’t want him to be angry. As we keep walking toward the radiology department, I slip my hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He squeezes my hand back, our secret language, the thing we used even as teenage sweethearts to talk to each other without using words. I look at him sidelong, and he flashes me a smile. We’re okay. This is going to be okay.

  I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I might’ve felt the baby move a few times, but I don’t know if it’s okay. I can only hope and pray that whatever horrors I’ve experienced in the past three months haven’t affected it.

  It doesn’t take long for the technician to get me half-naked and on the bed. I should’ve worn a dress, I think to myself as I shed my jeans and climb up on the table. I take a deep breath as I realize my hands are shaking. I am so nervous right now.

  The technician asks me a round of the same questions I just answered in the doctor’s office, and I repeat each answer. Last menstrual cycle. Average cycle length. That delightfully mundane stuff. Then, finally, Jase and I are glued to the monitor as hazy black and white snow fills the screen.

  It doesn’t take long for something to materialize, and when it does, I gasp.

  A baby. A fully formed baby, with arms and legs, waving madly as if it knows we’re looking. I actually hear Jase make a surprised noise beside me, and when I look at him, he’s beaming. I blink back a grateful tear as I pay attention to the screen, trying to follow the measurements but in the end just watching tiny limbs as they dance around.

  The technician stops for a moment and leaves the room, calling “un minuto,” as she leaves. I look at Jase. “Do you think she’s worried?” I ask.

  Jase shakes his head. “Nah. Maybe she’s getting someone to tell us in English.”

  I nod. Yeah. That has to be it.

  The doctor bustles in and takes one look at the screen, then nods at the technician. “See these three lines?” he asks us, pointing to the screen.

  I peer at what I think are three lines, but I can’t even see what context they’re in. The limbs are gone now, and this is a close up of something. Of what, I’ve no idea.

  “Is something wrong?” I ask, my stomach sinking.

  “No,” the doctor says quickly. “Everything is perfect. Three lines means a girl.”

  Everything is perfect. Three lines means a girl.

  I start a chin wobble that will surely dissipate into a stream of tears. “It…she…is okay?”

  The doctor frowns, handing me a print-off of several grainy pictures that show our perfect baby in various stages.

  “Madam, I am not sure what has happened to you to make you question your baby’s health,” the doctor says cautiously, his eyes dropping to my scarred stomach. “But I can assure you, from everything we can see now, your baby is in perfect health. You’ve passed the danger period, so you can go ahead and start telling people now.”

  I nod, relief flooding my veins. “And the conception date, was that accurate?” I feel Jase tense beside me. The doctor scans his paperwork and nods. “Usually a conception date is hard to pin down, but in this case, your due date tracks perfectly with the baby’s size. You must keep a good diary.” He winks at me, and I can’t suppress the smile on my face. Jase kisses the top of my head.

  A little more of the wall I’ve built around my heart crumbles. I let myself sink into the feeling of relief that floods me, just for a moment.

  Because I can finally believe the words I keep whispering to myself in my darkest moments of doubt.

  Everything is going to be okay.

  That night, the house is silent. Luis is off somewhere and Elliot is gone, back to his girls, and hopefully to force grandma to leave her house in case Dornan decides to pay her a visit. I decide to take a shower after dinner and get an early night. Pregnancy is kicking my
ass all of a sudden.

  As I turn off the water Jase appears in the bathroom. We’ve been fairly intimate, kissing and holding each other, but he hasn’t seen me naked since Dornan cut my tattoo away. I’m so self-conscious now, and I make sure I’m always covered up.

  Jase hands me a towel, and I wrap it around myself, stepping out of the bathtub onto the bathmat. “There’s still some hot water left,” I murmur, not looking at him as I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste. Thanks, Luis. The guy thought of everything - he’s even got bottles of prenatal vitamins stacked up on the kitchen counter for me.

  “Thanks,” Jase murmurs, giving me a lingering kiss on the top of my head as he steps past me.

  Jase takes his shirt off and drops it to the ground, and I do a quick brush and rinse, shoving the toothbrush back in the makeup bag Luis also bought me. I have a feeling I owe the dude a lot, and not just money. I owe him big time for setting all of this up for us, for helping us, for those sweet, reassuring yet cryptic words he uttered to me while I was still Dornan’s prisoner. It’ll all be over soon. I wonder if he had already started buying me vitamins and toothbrushes when he spoken those words in my ear.

  I turn and lean against the sink, watching as Jase sheds the rest of his clothes, placing his gun on the windowsill in the shower. He’s obviously still on edge, which makes me think he either needs to relax a little, or I need to get my own gun to keep on me at all times.

  He’s about to step into the shower when I step forward, completely on impulse, and tug his hand. He looks down at my hand and then to my eyes, and I smile back at him almost shyly.

  “Julz…” he begins, looking torn.

  “Jase,” I echo his tone, but with a playful smirk.

  His naked form in front of me is too much. He’s devastatingly good-looking, all tightly coiled muscle and sinew, a “V” that draws from his tightly packed abs down to the thing I’m more interested in. Yes. I’ve missed him so fucking much it hurts me to think about it. How is it I’ve loved this boy madly and deeply for over seven years, almost since the moment I met him, and we’ve only made love a handful of times? It’s not right.

  Desire flares across my midsection and lower, a delicious itch that must be scratched at once. I wonder if he’ll be game or if he sees me as tainted and ruined after the last three months? Can push that horror away to reconnect? To be together the way we were always meant to be.

  I no longer think he’s disgusted by me. When I saw the look in his eyes when he saw our baby on the ultrasound, my last paranoid fear was drowned in the brilliance of his excited smile.

  He loves me. I believe this, now.

  “Kiss me,” I whisper, and his eyes widen slightly.

  He won’t, I think. He’s afraid

  But he does. He rushes me, pinning me against the sink as he presses his lips greedily against mine. A thrill courses through me as our tongues collide, as months and years of pent-up desire crackles in the air around us. I rip the towel from around my torso, letting it fall to the ground. I press my body to his, scars and all, needing every possible inch of our bare skin to be touching. I need this man like I need air to breathe.

  I burn. Because this is electric. His touch ignites in the most delicious of ways, his cock thick and hard as it presses against my skin, wedged firmly between us. I moan as he breaks the kiss long enough to lean down and take a nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. I use the shift in our bodies and the slight gap between us to reach my hand down and wrap my fingers around him, pumping my hand slowly back and forth.

  “Fuuuuuck,” he groans, moving his hips to match my own rhythm. He releases my nipple and stands tall, batting my hand away from his cock and cupping my ass in his hands. Attacking my mouth again, he lifts me up and deposits me on the bathroom counter. I smile as he uses his body and one of his hands to push my legs wider apart, so wide it aches. I gasp as he trails his fingers up the inside of my thigh, rubbing fingertips over my slick heat and around my sensitive nub before he plunges one finger inside me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moan, pressing my mouth to his tattooed shoulder and biting gently. I could come right now, like this, especially with the way he’s touching me, two fingers now thrusting slowly in and out of my wetness.

  “God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs. “You’re so fucking wet.” He continues to touch me with an intensity that tells me he’s only just getting started. Just as I’m pushing my hips farther forward into his thrusts and cresting that peak, he stops, withdrawing his touch completely.

  Son of a bitch. I attempt to catch my breath as he takes one step back his cock standing to attention, so ready for me. He uses my wetness to smear across his dick, squeezing himself with a look of barely bridled lust.

  “Please,” I say, squirming in the spot he’s left me, my legs still wide, my pussy burning. He smiles, steps closer, pressing the tip of his cock against my wetness.

  “Please what?“ he asks, a cocky smirk on his face. My darling boy. Here he is. I thought I’d lost him, but here he is. With me.

  “Please, fuck me,” I say, smiling wickedly.

  He grabs my jaw roughly with one hand, parting my lips with his thumb, devouring me greedily with his tongue. He’s exactly where I want him to be, but he’s not moving, hovered just outside of me.

  I pull my mouth away a little, enough to beg him to keep going, when he pushes himself into me in one long stroke.

  “Ahhhh!” I yell, before his mouth drowns my surprised exclamation.

  He stays still inside me for a moment, as I stretch around him, adjusting to his size. I moan with satisfaction as he begins to thrust his hips, sliding in and out of me. It’s like we were made for each other—if he was any bigger it would hurt, but this way, it’s a tight but perfect fit between our two bodies. He keeps thrusting as I climb that white-hot peak again, until finally, I can’t hold it off any longer. I open my mouth crying out loudly, and Jase growls low in his throat. When he sees my face, sees what he’s doing to me, I feel him go even harder inside me as his entire body stiffens and he roars, four sharp thrusts as he comes inside me. Well, it’s not like we need to worry about me getting knocked up, I think wryly, watching his face as he finishes his own climax and drags in a sated breath.

  “Holy fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to mine.

  I just nod, enjoying the way the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead melts into my skin, one body to another, two people as one entity. I’m still not ready for it to be over as he begins to pull out of me; I press my hands to his lower back, holding him to me, and he stills.

  We stay like that until the temperature drops and our bodies turn cold. Outside, the sun dips below the horizon.

  And for these moments, it’s just us, just Jason and Juliette, two people who’ve fought through every shitty thing to get to this moment.

  And it’s beautiful.

  We spend several weeks alone at the house. Luis visits us every couple of days, but most of the time, it’s just us. I can tell Jase doesn’t want to take me anywhere—it’s still going to take a while to regain the strength and weight I lost under Dornan’s (lack of) care, and Jase insists on feeding me up, cooking me creamy pastas and juicy hunks of beef. We talk a lot about the future—kind of—but we don’t talk about Dornan. We both seem to know we need to focus on the baby before we do anything reckless. However, the thought of Dornan still out there, actively looking for us, makes me frightened beyond belief. I find it so hard to reconcile this new, meek and afraid girl with the tough-as-nails Julz that woke up in a nightmare three months ago, but that Julz didn’t know if she pushed Dornan too much, it could cost her her child.

  Walks on the beach and dinners on the porch. Lazy afternoon sex and spooning at night. Everything is tinged with a film of fear, but most of the time, I think we do a pretty good job of blocking out the threat of the Gypsy Brothers and focusing on us. It’s the first time we’ve ever been able to just peacefully co-exist, and I find myself falling eve
n deeper in love with this man who is my everything.

  I lock the bathroom door once a day and retrieve my bottle of medicine from the depths of my makeup bag, measuring a slightly smaller dose as each week passes. My one dirty little secret amongst all the good stuff, but with each passing day, I’m more confident I can do this. I can beat this. When the bottle runs out, Luis seems to know, turning up with another.

  He is truly a guardian angel, and I don’t even know why he’d do this for me. I want to talk to him about his mother, about my father, but he doesn’t seem ready to talk about that. When I question Jase about him, he’s just as vague, warning me away from pushing him too far. Seems The Prospect has a few scars of his own.

  On the beach one afternoon, I am dressed in a cheap blue one-piece I picked up at a gas station during one of our rare ventures into town for supplies. Jase is wearing swimming trunks, his back bare, the GYPSY BROTHERS tattoo emblazoned on his skin like a homing beacon.

  I touch my salty fingers to the thick black lettering on his back and he flinches slightly.

  “Luis is getting his lasered off,” Jase says quietly, scanning the deserted beach from behind his aviators. “I think I’ll do the same.”

  I think about that for a moment, as I trace each letter with my fingertip, the black ink an obvious burden to him.

  “I think you should leave it,” I whisper, pressing my palm flat against his back.

  He turns sharply to look at me. “What? Why?”

  “Because you’ll be the only one left.” After we kill that motherfucker and his son, those bastards who refuse to die. “Imagine how afraid people will be of you, then.”

  Jase laughs, taking my hand and dragging me around to the front of him. I end up face-up in his lap, smiling as he peppers kisses all over my face.

  “I don’t want people to be afraid of me,” he says, tracing underneath my eye with his thumb. “I just want to be a regular guy, with a regular wife, and a regular kid.”

  “I’d love to meet them,” I say lightly.

  He rolls his eyes, kissing me again. “I’m talking about you,” he says, and my heart does a pleasant little skip.