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Zane, dammit.
I rub at my eyes, suddenly more exhausted than the work-out warrants. A bone-deep exhaustion that has to do with the state my best friend is in. The pain he’s in.
The unsolved as yet riddle of his past and the way it has intruded into his present, haunting him and hounding him. Making him sick and desperate. The image of him downing the whiskey Tyler poured him the other night won’t leave my mind.
It keeps getting tangled up with the image of him lying unconscious as we found him almost two years ago, after h
is sister’s death. In a coma from alcohol poisoning. Vomit drooling from his lips. An oxygen mask on his face as the paramedics whisked him away.
Fuck. I thought that mess was behind us. I thought we were all happy and doing well, but Zane… I’d fight anything for him, and right now I’m turning in circles, unable to see where the attack is coming from. What use are fists when there’s nothing fucking solid to punch through?
Grabbing my light summer jacket, I check the time. Damn, I’m running late.
Hurrying out of the gym, I nod at the owner and jog outside. I said I’d babysit Scott while Auds helps with the organizing of the upcoming weddings of Tyler to Erin and Rafe to Megan. At least she doesn’t have morning sickness like she did with Scott, thank fuck for small mercies. Watching her suffer through that almost broke me.
Not as much as the birth, though. Christ. The birth broke me, and now she’ll go through that all over again, and I…
Her smile flashes through my mind. “Trust yourself.” I can hear her words echo in my ears. “I only need you and our babies.”
She’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. After the pain comes happiness. Audrey, and my life, taught me that, and I’d better not forget it.
Chapter Nine
Audrey
Another baby.
I’m walking on clouds as I kiss Scott’s rosy, rounded cheek and pass him on to his daddy—then get distracted for a moment watching those strong, muscular arms as they lift our son in the air, as those pretty pale blue eyes crinkle in the corners with laughter, as Ash—my Ash—laughs and makes faces.
Looking so happy. As happy as I feel.
I’m so frigging lucky. I’m married to the boy I’ve loved all my life, and have the most precious kid in the world. If you’d told me we’d be here two years ago, I’d have pepper-sprayed you and called the police.
When I’d first moved back to Madison, I thought I hated Ash. Hated his dad for killing mine in a car crash while he was drunk, hated Ash for giving me the cold shoulder at school for years before that.
Until I found out why. That he’d been trying to protect me from his abusive dad. That he’d felt worthless and insecure. That his life had been hell.
That he loved me.
After almost losing him to his dad’s violence and the underground fight club he’d joined to make ends meet, I’m finally with him, though I sometimes wake up in the night and just watch him breathe, making sure he’s alive. That he’s all right.
“Has he eaten?” Ash asks, and I blink, returning to the present.
“Yeah. Only just. Changed his diaper, too. You should be good for a couple of hours.”
“Are you okay?” His pale, long-lashed eyes flick down to my still flat tummy and back up to my face. “Sure you’re up to doing stuff today?”
“I’m fine.” I really am. Sure, my stomach hurts a little, but I’m not dizzy or hugging the toilet bowl like I’d done for months with my first pregnancy. “Seriously, don’t worry about me, Ash.”
He nods, and I understand how he feels. He’s protective of me, of our little family. As little as he thinks of his ability to be a good father, he’d gladly take on any discomfort or pain on himself to keep us from suffering.
I can feel tears gathering at the back of my throat—tears of happiness, and God, frigging hormones. If he realizes I’m about to cry, he’ll go crazy trying to find out what’s wrong.
Only nothing’s wrong. The doctor said everything looks fine.
We’re fine.
It’s not us who need help. “Any news about Zane?”
