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And, since we were in the offseason, I had absolutely nothing to take my aggression out on since there was only so much running and gym time I could do. Meaning each time this bitch looked at my wife with a snarl on her perfectly lined lips, I got angrier and angrier.
The headaches from my injury had subsided…only to be replaced by ones from two women that were complete dick bags.
“I will not,” the woman sneered. “That’s the fastest way to poison a child.”
My eyebrows rose. “They recommend not having more than a certain amount of caffeine. I believe that’s two hundred milligrams. One Coke won’t kill you.”
“I signed a contract that stated I’d take care of my body—and drinking that filth will not be happening,” the woman refused.
“How about some apple juice, Credence?” the ultrasound tech asked.
Credence. Even her name sounded bitchy.
“I suppose I could do that,” Credence acquiesced. “But only a small cup. I try to keep sugar to a minimum.”
“Which is why the baby isn’t moving at all. Didn’t the tech tell her last time to drink a soft drink or something sugary?” I whispered into Henley’s ear.
Henley punched me. “Be good.”
I winked at her. “I don’t want to be good. I hate coming to these.”
Henley shot me a look that clearly said to behave.
Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t.
“We’re gonna wait outside while that kicks in,” I said, standing up and reaching for Henley’s hand.
The tech blinked. Credence looked none too pleased.
Henley looked exasperated.
But if this wasn’t actually going to start for another half an hour like the ultrasound tech said, then there was no reason we should have to be subjected to Credence’s presence longer than we had to.
Needless to say, we waited out there for a good long while, and only when the ultrasound tech came out to get us would we go back inside.
Exactly thirty minutes later, the door to the ultrasound room opened, and the tech waved us inside.
Henley, who’d been leaning against me as we played a word game on my phone, stood up with excitement in her step.
This was her favorite part—seeing the babies. She adored all the other parts, but actually seeing them was the only way either one of us felt it was real.
“Okay, let’s get started,” the tech said, sounding tired.
Henley took her seat and I took mine, putting my arm around her as I stared at the large flat screen TV on the wall and waited.
It didn’t take long, and we got to see our baby’s face.
“Ohhh,” Henley whispered, looking closer. “Toes!”
Yep.
“Toes, hands, and knees all up by the head,” the tech explained, moving the wand around. “And it’s a girl!”
I kept my eyes on the screen while Henley looked over at me with excitement. “A girl.”
My stomach sank. “Shit.”
Henley started to snicker. “Can we have a picture?”
The tech printed her off twenty.
And by the time we were leaving, we had a video, too.
“Credence, if you’ll head down the hall, the doctor will be in with you in just a second,” the tech explained.
“Bye, Credence,” Henley waved.
Credence lifted her lip in a silent snarl that quickly turned into a fake smile when she saw me looking at her.
“Goodbye, Henley. See you next week,” Credence cooed.
I rolled my eyes at the sickly sweet, falsely fake tone.
“Lovely girl.”
Henley smacked my chest.
“You don’t have to like her, but you do have to appreciate her.”
Unfortunately, that would be the last time I’d see Credence again because she died in a car wreck hours later, taking our baby with her.
Our little girl.
We named her Lillian.
And we buried her on the property I’d bought next to my mother-in-law’s place.
It was honestly the hardest thing I’d ever had to do in my life, and I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Henley felt the same.Chapter 29Don’t tell secrets in the garden. The potatoes have eyes. The corn has ears, and the beanstalk.
Rhys
One week later
“You’re sure that you saw the tattoo?” I asked carefully.
The witness nodded his head, looking scared shitless. “Positive. The guy had his arm hanging out the window. The tattoo on his left hand looked exactly like that.”
The witness had just described the tattoo that Michael—my uncle’s enforcer—had on his left hand. But it wasn’t a tattoo. It was a brand that my uncle had put there himself.
And there was no doubt in my mind that Pablo had ordered Michael to do it.
Pablo had signed his death warrant.
He’d taken my kid from me by ordering his enforcer to cause that accident, and changed the game.
No longer was my family safe.
No longer was I able to trust anyone or anything but Henley and my sister.
Which was why, hours after speaking with the witness after the funeral of our unborn daughter, I sent Henley away along with our second surrogate. Though each went somewhere entirely different from the other, and I made sure that only the best of the best were there to take care of them—an organization named Free.
