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“How could I?” she deadpans. “I haven’t spoken to you in forever.”
“I know,” I start, feeling more guilt pile on top of me. “I’m sorry,” I say, apologizing once again. There aren’t any other words that could fix missing Thanksgiving with my family.
“Just tell me what’s going on.” She sighs. “This isn’t like you. Is it a case? That kid you were caring for? What’s happened that’s obviously gotten you out of sorts?”
I look up, inhaling a breath to give me the strength to say the words I need to get out. When I’m ready, I drop my head, looking into her green eyes.
“I lost—” I suck in air, and it’s like pulling in tiny shards of glass, each piece nicking at my insides. “I had a miscarriage.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Oh my God!” Her eyes widen as her hand slowly goes to her mouth, covering her lips. “What? I—”
She grabs me by both of my biceps, pulling me back to her chest.
The tears are instant, coating my cheeks once again and I cry, letting it all flow out again. I bawl like I’ve never bawled before. Alana holds me, not letting up on her grip until I pull away. She’s reluctant to let me go, but does eventually, her hands slipping from me as I sit back up.
“Why didn’t you want to tell me? I would have been here the second I knew.” Her voice cracks.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I had enough to deal with without you and Jackson flipping your shit over me getting shot.”
“Wait a minute.” She takes in a ragged breath. “What!? What do you mean you were shot? You were shot, and no one told us? No one called us?”
Her eyes flip with multiple emotions, and it claws at my chest. The guilt starts to choke me, suffocating me.
“When? Are you okay?” She scans me up and down, landing on my leg. My shorts have risen high enough in my seated position that she can see the bandage. It’s still healing, and I’ve taken proper care of it so that it’s mending well. Itches like a bitch, but I try to ignore the need to claw at my skin. That wound from the shot is the least of my problems.
“It really wasn’t bad,” I start but quickly shut up. Her eyes light with fire.
“Not bad?” Her face colors red. “Any gunshot is bad, Brianna!” My name comes off her tongue like a curse.
“That’s where you’re wrong. So wrong.”
The tears coat my cheeks again. I’d take another bullet in a second if it meant never losing Gabriel, or my baby, or even D. I want all three back. I want what was taken from me.
“This is why you don’t need to be working the gangs and drug unit, or whatever it’s called, narcotics.”
She slides away from me, throwing her head back against the headrest on the couch. I watch her blink rapidly, knowing she’s trying to shove back her own tears. Alana and I are alike in that way. Neither of us are quick to cry over things.
I’ve always had the attitude of “what’s the point,” it’s not like you can always control the situation, and if bad things are going to happen, then it’s just life. It’s the cards you were dealt.
That is until it happened to me.
Another round of tears cascade down my cheeks. The control I once thought I possessed is gone as my emotions swamp me, taking center stage.
I might as well tell her everything. I’ve gotten this far. There is no reason to hide anything else, and for the first time, coming clean feels like the right thing to do. It’s what I should have done weeks ago.
“There’s more.”
Her head rolls to the side, looking at me with dread in her green eyes. But just like a big sister, the mother-type that she is, my savior—she listens to every word that pours out about Gabriel being Drago’s son.
I tell her about keeping that fact from him until my stupid boss had to open his mouth and be the one to disclose that information, which resulted in D not believing a word that came out of my mouth.
I could accept that if it weren’t for his son. Gabe deserves at least one parent to love him and want him. But Drago can’t, or won’t accept that he created a person.
Before we slept together, I wouldn’t have believed it was possible not to remember the act of sex with another person. Now I know it’s possible, so for him to say it’s impossible that he had sex with Chasity Carlisle is laughable. It’s obvious it happened. Gabriel is proof of that.
“How does he not believe Gabe is his? If you have a paternity test proving it, then why does he not believe it? Does he not remember fucking the source?”
