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WAIT FOR IT
WAIT FOR IT
W A I T
W A I T
PREGNANT!!!
am I the good daughter now?
????
Dex read that message over and over and over. Meanwhile, the world around him became a vortex, a spinning, roaring tumult. Kelsey was pregnant?
Fuck.
Fuckno.
“I have to go.” He tossed Mav’s phone at him and bolted.
~oOo~
She wasn’t home when he got there.
He didn’t know when he’d started to think of her being in this house as her being ‘home,’ but he was positive he liked it. They’d been together just about every free moment since the night he’d tortured Grenell and the others, including every night. She had stuff in the closets, she had half his dresser, she had her peach yogurt in the fridge. They’d dived straight into living together without even talking about it, and it felt exactly right. He’d been happier in the past couple weeks than he’d been maybe ever in his life.
Not maybe. Definitely.
But he could not make a child. His mother had been riddled with mental illness. She’d fucking killed her own baby during a psychotic event.
She’d killed her infant son.
Who the hell knew if there was a diagnosis for his father, but the man had abandoned his traumatized son, so he probably hadn’t been the levelest table in the restaurant.
And Dex was no poster child for mental health himself. PTSD with psychotic features. ADHD. Maybe borderline personality as well, though the most recent VA shrink he’d seen had removed that diagnosis.
His genes were, not to put too fine a point on it, nuts.
They hadn’t talked about it—they hadn’t talked about anything related to the future—but if Kelsey wanted to be a mom, he would have been happy to adopt. Worried, considering his life, but happy. Setting aside his various issues, he thought he’d be an okay dad. With Kelsey at his side, he thought he could even be a decent one—because she would be a fantastic mom. It was genetics, not responsibility, he had to avoid.
But he simply could not saddle a child with the kind of mental morass he dealt with every day.
He had to talk to Kelsey. Where was she? Why hadn’t she told him?
Texting would not cut it. Nor would a phone call. They needed to be together to talk about this. She needed to understand.
So Dex paced his house, six dogs trailing him in a line, and waited.
Finally, the dogs abandoned him and ran to the front, and Dex knew she was home.
Home. This was her home now.
Dex met her at the front door.
She was surprised. “Hi. I didn’t think you’d be home already.” As always, the dogs swarmed her and she dealt out greeting pets before anything else.
He took the shopping bags from her and set them aside. “Yeah. We have to talk, babe.”
