Levi looks at me apologetically. “Please, let me know how everythingis?”
He leans down to hug me, and before he can get any closer, Dean’s voice booms, “I fucking dare you, bitch.” He glares at Levi until he’s no longer in sight.
Dean is in my face in a split second. “Are you fucking kidding me? The first chance you get, you're calling that little fuck boy?” His hot breath hits my nose, and I swear I smell the faint smell of beer.
Has he been drinking, and that’s why he didn’t answer when I called?
“I called TWICE and was sent to voicemail both times, Dean. You couldn’t be fucking bothered to answer my call, and I was contracting and needed to get to the hospital to make sure the baby was okay.” I’m not crying, but my voice is struggling to match my anger.
“He just wants to fuck you, Ember. He knows you’ve at least put out once, and wants to get his dick wet.” He sneers down at me.
Before I can say anything, the doctor comes in. He eyes Dean, and looks to me, clearly not wanting any part of the heated argument. “Well, you are contracting regularly, but I don’t see any cervical change. Labs show no signs of amniotic fluid. We’re going to give you one shot—a steroid to help develop his lungs. We will need to administer another, so you’ll have to come back tomorrow for the second dose. And I'm ordering you to be on bedrest for the next two weeks.” He looks from me to Dean. “You can get her back, right? It’s important that she has these, for the sake of the baby’s health.”
Dean nods his head, and the doctor heads out to retrieve the shot. I hate shots, but it’s for my little boy. After I get the shot, we’re discharged. I silently put my regular clothes back on. As I’m pulling my leggings up over my butt, I feel Dean’s eyes on me.
Once in the car, heading home, I glance over and ask, “Where were you?” He doesn’t answer, so I push a little more. “I have a right to know what is more important than answering your pregnant girlfriend!” Iyell from the passenger seat. He lets out a “hmph,” clearly not planning to elaborate further.
My mom isn't off of work yet, but it’s late, so everyone is in bed and all the lights are off. Dean follows me to my room and locks the door. My stomach drops, and I feel like I’m going to vomit. There’s only one reason he ever locks the door.
I tense as I feel him advance on me. “Dean, it's not a good idea. The paperwork says no intercourse, it can send me into labor.”
He leans down, his lips on mine, and he laughs into my mouth. “That would be crazy if you did. I’d have to tell our son one day that I sent you into labor fucking you.” I wince, unable to grasp why he’d ever want to share that information with his kid. “Just fucking do it, Ember. All you have to do is lay there. I’ll be fast.” He pushes me onto the bed and unbuttons his pants. And with that, he’s won.
Ten minutes later, I head to the bathroom to clean up.
He’s already taken up his spot on the couch when my mom comes through the door.
“Hey hon, I’m so sorry I couldn’t come to the hospital, everything okay?” she asks as she pulls me into a hug. She’s doing her best, so I smile and pass on the majority of the information.
She sighs, knowing it's going to be a long two weeks of bed rest. She gives me a tight squeeze before she heads to her room to go to bed.
I go into the bathroom, finally getting to clean up, and I notice blood in my panties. It’s not a lot, but it's enough to break the dam and finally let my tears fall after the events that unfolded tonight. It shouldn’t be like this. “No” should have been enough, doctors orders should have been enough. But it never is, not with Dean. I pull myself together before heading back to my room and locking my door, in hopes it keeps him out all night.
I wake upin a cold sweat to the sound of my alarm. My heart is racing, and I grab for anything to keep me grounded. After a few minutes, my heart starts to slow.
I had planned a full face of makeup, but now I'm looking at leaving the house late. I have just enough time to throw my hair into a messy bun on top of my head. Sweeping my eyelashes with clear mascara, and swiping on a layer of chapstick, I head into my room to get dressed. I settle on my dark skinny jeans, chelsea rain boots with the moonstone crystal charms on the back, and a hoodie.
I head downstairs, put my to-go cup under the Keurig, and click the largest setting. I wait for it to brew, adding a splash of my favorite creamer into the cup.
I can tell it’s not going to be a good day.
That dream—memory, nightmare, whatever—ruined my chance of a good day. It’s raining, so I press the start button for my car on my key fob while I finish getting ready.
I slip a couple of pieces of pizza into a baggy for a snack later, and throw it into my purse. Getting to the door, I scratch Maggie's ear and give her a peck on her head. I pull my raincoat from the closet and push my arms through the sleeves before I head out the door. I make sure everything is locked up before walking down the stairs and getting into my car.
I drive to the bookstore with no music on, eyes on the road. We usually aren’t busy first thing in the morning, so I know I can continue to wallow in self-pity by myself for a bit before having to “fake it till you make it” with customers.
I pull into the parking lot on the side of the building, haul my purse over my shoulder, grab my to-go cup in one hand and the keys to the shop in the other. I turn the corner and stop dead in my tracks, my heart stuttering in my chest.
Standing at the door, Harley has a to-go cup, a white paper bag, and a smile that could make any woman drop to the ground on sight.
He sees me, and his eyes flash with a sliver of worry. He walks towards me, getting to me before I can make it to him. “Ember, what’s wrong?” He eyes me warily.
I smile, putting my hand out, signalling that I need a moment. If he touches me, I'll lose it right here, and I'll be completely ruined for work today. I have to be here today, so I need my distance.
He moves out of the way, allowing me to unlock the door of the shop. I still have about ten minutes before I need to flip the sign on, so I shut the door and lock it. Harley follows me to the back room, not saying a word. I put my things on the desk we keep back here, and let my palms lay flat on the surface.
My head drops, and I try to take deep breaths. I feel him shift behind me, and he rests his hand on my back.
