Page 38 of Fireball (Smoke)


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Life was a funny thing. It came in waves and changed everything with finality, only to toss in something you didn’t expect or prepare for, believing you were strong enough to handle it.

Fourteen

Madeline

It was two days later before Blaise returned. He’d sent me a few texts, but nothing more. Gina had said this was common.

When my eyes opened this morning, I ran to the bathroom to throw up. There was no smell of bacon to trigger me. The nausea that I’d kept battling was growing worse.

I would turn twenty years old soon. I lived with a man who would one day be the boss of a wealthy, powerful crime family. My future wasn’t something I was clear on, and now, I had to face the truth. I needed to take a pregnancy test. Somehow without Blaise knowing about it. I wasn’t sure how that would work.

I cleaned up and dressed, then headed up to the kitchen. Gina had been busy cooking a full breakfast, and I knew then that they were returning. She had been alerted, but not me. I tried not to be hurt by that knowledge. There were too many other things going through my head. Starting with the fact that I had to get a job. I needed an income. And there was a very strong possibility I was going to be a mother.

I watched as Gina pulled out the bacon from the fridge, and I thought about going back downstairs. I should offer to help her, but I knew I couldn’t smell that. If I was pregnant, I didn’t want anyone to know. At least not yet. Not until I had some security. A job, a plan for the future, something to call my own.

Blaise was not going to want a baby. His life wasn’t exactly baby-friendly.

Gina looked over at me and smiled, and I forced one of my own.

“Gage texted. They’re headed home and hungry,” she said, holding up the bacon.

I nodded and then glanced at the patio doors. “Good,” I replied, thankful Blaise was safe and returning. However, getting out of this house was my main concern at the moment. “I’ll come back and help, but I need some fresh air first,” I explained, hoping that was enough.

She nodded. “That’s fine. No need to help. I’m almost done.”

Relieved, I headed for the closest door to get out of this house and the smell that I knew would trigger me.

I moved out of the backyard to make sure the smell didn’t make its way out here and get to me anyway when I heard the door on the patio open. When I turned around, my eyes found Blaise walking outside with his gaze locked on me.

The smile that touched my face was genuine. I was relieved he was back and that he was safe. He was the only place I had to go for comfort even if I didn’t feel as if I could tell him why I needed it. Not yet.

I stood where I was as he made his way down the steps and toward me. I fought the urge to run to him and wrap my arms around him. As I waited for him to reach me, my heart felt fluttery with excitement.

Loving Blaise Hughes was one of the hardest and most wonderful things I’d ever experienced.

When he was in arm’s length, he reached out and pulled me to him. I wrapped my arms around him, and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he said.

My arms tightened, and I tilted my head back to look up at him. “I missed you too.”

Blaise ran the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. “I want these sweet lips on my cock, but first, we need to eat. Come inside with me.”

I would go anywhere with him. He thought I was his weakness, but he had no idea just how weak he made me. Which made the future so complicated.

“Okay,” I replied, knowing the smell was going to be difficult, but hoping since I’d already thrown up this morning, I’d be able to keep my nausea down.

Blaise didn’t move. His gaze remained on my face as he watched me. “Something is wrong,” he said, moving his hand up to cup my cheek. “Tell me.”

I shrugged. “Nothing is wrong.”

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned down closer to my face. “Something is fucking wrong. We’ll eat, and then you can talk.”

I sighed. He was too observant.

I decided to go with a partial truth. “I need a job. Even if it’s working at the ranch. I need an income.” Which was even truer now than it had been a week ago.

“What do you want? You have a credit card. There is no limit on it,” he said, frowning.

I shook my head. “That is your money. I need to make my own. You can’t pay for everything for me.”

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