It’s Always Us (Abandoned Brothers #3)

Chapter 40

LEX

“Anything else you want to grab?”

Bree sits on the edge of her twin bed, pressed against the wall, holding the pink model Volkswagen Beetle and her clay pot filled with colored pencils. Her head hangs, and the bright, lively little girl is missing. The pale tinge to her skin tells me she’s sick with heartache and terrified of the unknown.

I lower myself beside her, having to lean back to make room for the giant kicking machines that have invaded my entire midsection, including the space underneath my ribs.

“Are you ok?” When she doesn’t say anything, I prod, knowing Slade will be back any minute. We have to return the keys to the landlord, who’s impatiently waiting on us to load up what we can. The rest will be up to him. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nods, barely. “I . . . What’s going to happen if my mom has to stay in jail for a long time? Are you leaving again to be with your husband?”

It’s the first time she’s mentioned Mark, and I have no doubt it’s because she’s smart enough to be afraid of the answer. I wish I knew what he was thinking, but I don’t.

The more days that go by without Mark really talking to me, the more I wonder if he ever will. Two days ago, he told me he’s meeting with Seattle’s team doctors and therapists, but after today, I have to know what’s going on. It’s not just Bree that needs answers. I need a plan.

I promised Bree I would always tell her the truth, and so I give her the only thing I’m absolutely sure of .

“Remember I told you he travels a lot.” She nods, still not looking at me. “He’s got a really busy schedule, and when that settles down, he and I will talk about it.”

Her slim shoulders slump further, and I put my arm around her, pulling her to my side.

“But I can tell you that I won’t be leaving you. Ok? Unless someone tells me I have to, you’re staying with me and Grandpa Cal.”

One side of her mouth tugs up a hair. “And the babies, too.”

I squeeze her tighter. “And these little monsters, too. I’ll need your help.”

The first smile I’ve seen in days spreads across her beautiful face.

“All right, you two, I don’t think we can fit one more stuffed animal or art piece in the truck.” Slade’s big, broad frame leans against the doorway.

“I only have three stuffies,” Bree challenges.

“Well, they’re buckled in and ready to go.”

Bree scans the small room, checking it over one last time. She pulls a small picture of her and Linda at her last dance recital off the wall and shoves it in her pocket. “I’m ready.” She looks so much older than she should ever have to for only being nine.

Slade steps into the room and offers his hand to help tug me up. “Shit, woman. You get any bigger, and we’ll need a crane.”

I slap his arm, and he chuckles. “You’re mean.”

“Want me to drive you to your appointment later? I’ve got a dolly.”

“Slade, if you don’t want to lose a nut, keep your mouth shut.”

His hand jets out as I get ready to step out of the room. “Seriously, you want me to go with you?” I smile up at him, swallowing what feels like razor blades. “He needs to get his head out of his ass quick before I go remove it for him.” Slade’s eyes are hard and serious.

“Tomorrow.” I manage to squeak out. “He’s going to have to give me something tomorrow.”

He swings his arm around me. “He’s no delicate flower. You need to quit treating him like one. He better give you a hell of a lot more than something.”

I hug him. “He will.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know that? Everything you did for him. ”

We meet Bree at the door, and she steps out as Slade locks it.

“He does.” And so much more. “He’s got to face the evil this place holds. He has to be ready to do that.”

Slade doesn’t say anything, but I know he heard me. I also know he understands a little something about what it takes to stare down the past.

What I don’t know is when Mark might be ready. All I can do for now is believe that he will. The man I married—the one whose eyes I stared into as he declared his love for me over and over again—would stand and take on any force just as he would have when I did it for him.

_______

The receptionist hands me a card with my next appointment on it. I shove it in my pocket.

Two weeks. I no longer have monthly appointments but will be coming every two weeks so they can monitor for contractions and keep an eye on potential early labor. For now, I have to take it easy and call if I start feeling any tightening.

I climb in my truck and sit. I have thirty minutes until I told Krissy I’d pick Bree up. Not long, but maybe long enough.

My moment of positivity and hope I shared with Slade earlier quickly dwindled as I lay listening to the babies’ hearts beat. Their little whoosh, whoosh, whooshes crept into my throat, and I about lost it right there on the short exam table.

I glance around my truck. I don’t even have a way to bring them home.

Enough is enough. Times up.

I twist the key, and my truck rumbles to life. I fasten my seatbelt, tap Mark’s contact, and then the speaker button.

It rings five times, and then the voicemail picks up as I pull out of the doctor’s parking lot. I’m tempted to hang up and dial again, but I don’t. I let the recording play, having no idea what to say.

The tone beeps.

“Hey. I need to talk to you.” I pause, needing air. The pressure of this imminent conversation overtaking my emotions. I swallow hard, trying to keep a clear head.

“I’m leaving the doctor’s office. I thought you might want to know . . . ” I blow out a breath as the weight of these past weeks fills my eyes, and the fear I’ve been actively ignoring roars to life. I blink rapidly, needing them to retreat immediately.

“I know you’re angry and . . . Please call me.” My voice breaks despite my best efforts. “I can’t . . . I can’t do this by myself.”

The truth. I can’t do it without him. “I need you here.” It’s all I can manage.

I don’t want to have these babies without him. I don’t want to sit and face Linda’s consequences alone. I want to tell Bree that Mark and I will never let her be scared again. I want him here with me. I need him . . . for the rest of my life.

“I’m so sorry.” I sniff, swiping at my cheeks. “Please . . . just—”

Out of the corner of my eye, there’s a flash, and then—blood and pain, and everything goes black.