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Confusion floods me. “Thought about what?”
His eyes flicker to my stomach. “You know, keeping the baby.”
I sigh as I reach for the door handle. “There’s nothing to think about. I’m not keeping the baby, Jax. You know that.”
I open up the door, ready to get out of this conversation when he grabs onto my forearm to stop me. He points to my stomach. “You’re not giving up our kid.” His tone is so flat and sure of himself, like he has no doubt in his mind I’m going to do what he says.
I grab his hand and pry it off my forearm. “It’s not your fucking choice. I can’t have this baby. It’s the right thing to do. Trust me, there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to give up my own child, but I have to. Please respect that.”
“If you don’t want to give up the baby, then don’t. Let me help you.” He pleads, the urgency dripping from his voice.
I immediately grow suspicious.
“Why do you want this baby so bad? It’s only going to bring you down. Get in your way of taking over the business and The Pit and all that…”
“If someone told you they were having your baby, but you couldn’t keep it, how would you feel? If you really wanted something—that was yours no less—but you couldn’t have it?”
I get it. I really do, but that doesn’t change the situation I’m in. I refuse to be the trailer trash slut everyone thinks I am. The person my mom thinks I am. Jackson will have some honeymoon stage with the baby, but he’ll eventually get sick of it. Like my dad. I wouldn’t blame Jackson. We’re still young, and kids are a lot of work. That’s a lot of fucking responsibility to put on someone.
And a baby with Jackson? Someone who doesn’t fucking speak half of the time. One of the biggest assholes in the world, hands down.
“I understand, Jax, but the answer is still no. Now please, I have to go or I’m going to miss my appointment. If you still want to fight me on this, don’t even worry about coming inside. I’ll meet you back in the truck.” I hop out this time without looking back.
I check in at the front desk and take a seat. My stomach flips again as I sit down and try to swallow down the lump in my throat. I hate that Jackson had to bring up the adoption right before the appointment. Of course, I don’t want to give my baby up for adoption!
A shadow falls over me, and when I look up, I see Jackson staring down at me with a furrowed eyebrow. I stare at him, waiting to see what he decides to do.
He walks to the side and sits in the chair beside me. Reaching down, he grabs onto my hand curled in my lap and laces his fingers through mine. My heart stops as I lift my eyes to his. He stares at me, and the waves of electricity between us makes my entire body heat.
I look away when it gets to be too much and stare at the floor.
What’s going on between us?
“Cara Aarons?” Comes a voice from the other side of the room. I look up and see a nurse in light blue scrubs standing there with a clip board in hand.
We both stand up, and I go to pull my hand out of Jackson’s, but he only grips my hand harder. I lift my eyebrows up at him and wait for him to let go.
He lifts his eyebrows back at me. He looks so handsome, standing there with his dark features against flawless skin. He’s a predator, probably the most dangerous of everyone around him. No one believes he’s a threat because of his silence, but his silence is what makes him the deadliest of them all.
I glance over at the nurse and see she has an impatient look on her face. I growl under my breath and start walking towards the nurse—holding Jackson’s fucking hand.
“Cara?” The nurse asks.
“Yes.”
“Follow me, please.” She gives me a small smile and glances at Jackson. Her smile drops and her eyes flash with a lick of fear when she sees his guarded look. I wrinkle my nose and look up at Jackson. His face is blank again with the faintest of scowls plastered across it. Unease flows through me like a tidal wave.
I clear my throat, and the nurse looks back at me. Smile back in place, she lifts her hand towards the scale. “If you would please come stand on the scale so we can get a current weight.”
“Turn around.” I say to Jackson. He stares at me and says nothing. “Turn around.” I whisper at him through gritted teeth. Embarrassment bubbles in my stomach.Why the hell did I allow him to come with me?
He takes a deep breath but listens, turning around and giving me his back. His body is tense, and I watch as his muscles contract beneath his shirt, his uncomfortableness showing in his rigid form.
I get up on the scale and cringe. I avert my eyes to the ground because watching as the nurse writes down the number is about as comfortable as flaunting my baby bump.
Jackson turns around and I hop off the scale. He stares into my eyes and tries to have a conversation with me. I stare at him as we follow the nurse into a nearby room, trying to decipher what he’s trying to tell me. It’s nerve wrecking, watching as the array of emotions flash through his eyes with each blink.
Nervousness.
