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“I’ve ordered food and tea for her,” I told him.
He nodded. “Not sure if she can stomach food. Tea will be a good place to start.”
I wanted to ask him how bad it was, but I didn’t want to make Montana feel worse. So, I kept my mouth shut, making a note to talk to him about it later.
What we both really needed to do was talk to Montana about this baby, but fuck—I didn’t want to do it if it resulted in this kind of shit.
I knew I could be hard with Montana, but I never wanted to see her like this. Goddammit, my heart was clenching in my chest. She wasn’t clingy. She wasn’t one to seek out comfort.
But she was now.
I sat down on the couch in my office, not daring to try to move Montana. Jonah sat beside me and ran his fingers down her cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he gently asked her.
She just nodded. I pressed my lips to her cheek. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. We’re not going anywhere,” I promised her.
She yawned and nodded. Jonah grabbed her hand in his and leaned his head back, resting his eyes. It didn’t take long for Montana to pass out in my arms, her damp face tucked into the crook of my neck. When she did, Jonah opened his eyes.
“She’s been nonverbal since we were put into Dr. Trish’s examination room. She had a panic attack when she heard the heartbeat.” Jonah shook his head. “It scared the shit out of me, Blaze. She couldn’t fucking breathe, and her heart was racing so fast, I thought she was going to have a heart attack.”
I clenched my jaw, hating this shit for her, but she wanted to keep the baby. “If we don’t figure out a solution for this shit and fast, Jonah, she’s going to spiral when this baby is born, and we won’t be enough to help her.”
He nodded in agreement. “At some point, we need to bring her options to her.”
I blew out a harsh breath. Problem was, even if we did, chances were, she might still choose the one that wasn’t best for her all because she thought it was the right thing to do by this baby.
Fucking hell, what a goddamn mess.
“How do you feel about this kid?” I asked Jonah.
He shrugged. “This is going to sound fucked up, but I don’t care. When I was looking at the baby on the screen, I couldn’t stop worrying about Montana. I’ll be a dad if I have to, but right now isn’t the best time. I’m just trying to do what’s right by her and our kid.”
I shook my head. “It’s not fucked up,” I assured him. I was just glad he was being honest, and I knew he’d continue to be there for Montana and this baby if she kept it. I glanced over at him. “But if she decides to keep this baby, Jonah, you’ve got to love this kid. Otherwise, it’s going to make shit worse.” Montana hadn’t gotten the love she needed and deserved, and it had destroyed pieces of her.
He just nodded. I tightened my hold on Montana and got a little more comfortable. We’d be sitting here for a while it seemed, but I wasn’t breaking my promise to her. I would continue holding her because right then, she needed it.
We’d deal with the fallout of her panic attack after she woke up. And I already knew she was going to give us both absolute hell.
5
Montana
I needed time.
So, that Saturday—a day I would have normally spent with Blaze and Jonah—I spent with John. I was freaking out. Hearing that heartbeat—I couldn’t ignore this any longer. It was making me crazy. I was going to be a mom, and I wasn’t fit to be one.
This kid was going to be fucked up. I couldn’t offer it anything but emotional distance and trauma.
And no kid fucking deserved that.
John sighed. “That’s the third text I’ve gotten this morning, and I haven’t even had fucking coffee,” he said, coming into the living room where I was sitting, watching SpongeBob, trying to drown out my thoughts. “You want to tell me why you’re ignoring Jonah and Blaze?”
I just shrugged. He took a seat on the coffee table directly in front of me, blocking my view of the TV. I just stared at him. I didn’t want to talk about it.
“Montana, I know about the panic attack.” I clenched my jaw. “Will you please tell me what’s going through your head? We all just want to help you, little sis. Let us.”
I shook my head. “Trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going through my head,” I warned him.
He shrugged, leaning forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his coffee cup held between both hands. “Try me.”
