Against the Tide (20 page)

I’m met with a scowl, but I can’t help but smile inwardly at her fierce façade. She’s a total one off. She might be small but she has such a huge presence, which is what attracted me to her in the first place. She has a magnetism that I’ve never encountered before and now I’m aware of the temper that goes with it, and it makes me more intrigued in her. I stand with a slight twist in my hips, guarding myself so I’m prepared should she decide to use her knee on my balls again.

“Are you stalking me?” she asks, cocking her hip and jamming a hand in to her waist.

I smirk at her and she taps her foot impatiently. “Yes. I want to talk to you.”

“What if I don’t want to talk, huh? Did you think about that?”

“Why do you have to be so difficult?”

“Me? ME? Difficult? You are one cheeky fucking bastard.” Her voice rises sharply and she clenches her jaw tightly, making her cheekbones even more gorgeous and pronounced.

“Megan,” I say softly, hoping to diffuse her mood a little so she’ll talk to me. “I’m sorry for yesterday.” I keep my eyes locked on her, trying to convey how genuinely sorry I am. “I was out of order, and … I’m sorry, okay?” Her face softens a little but she doesn’t answer. “I need your help. I need to speak with you, and if after we’ve spoken then you don’t ever want to see me again, I’ll do my best to stay away from you, deal?”
I’ll try to stay away but it won’t be easy.

“You told me you’d leave me alone before, and you haven’t kept that promise,” she reminds me.

“I’m sorry.”

“What do you need my help with?” she asks, surprising me with her willingness to listen.

I glance around to see who’s listening, and even though no one is taking any notice of us, I would prefer not to do this here.

“Can we go somewhere and talk? Now?”

“No,” she says bluntly, tilting her chin up. “I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Oh. Okay, when?”

“This evening,” she snaps instantly, daring me to argue. God, I’ve got my work cut out with her.

“Where?”

“Somewhere public, The Thistle.”

“Fine. Seven pm?”

“Seven thirty,” she counters sharply, making me smile at her demands. If she wants to think this is all on her terms, fine.

“Thank you,” I say genuinely as she turns to leave. “There’s nothing wrong is there?” I ask, suddenly thinking that she said she’s going to the doctor’s. I couldn’t bear it if she was sick too, and it’s not lost on me that I care more than I should.

My question seems to amuse her and she tilts her head curiously. “Got a rash, and it itches like a motherfucker, probably an STD or something. I get them all the time, nothing to worry about. See you at seven thirty,” she chirps and gives me a little wave before sauntering off with a swing in her hips. She knows I’m watching her walk away with my jaw on the floor. STD? I’m hoping she was joking, then again, that would be about my luck.

“So, what happens next?”  I sit on the edge of the hard wooden chair in the doctor’s office, and fiddle nervously with the leaflets he’s just given me. 

“I need to book you in with the clinic, and they will give you a scan to determine how far along you are.”

“A what? Why? I don’t want to see it. I just don’t want it to be there anymore.” I start to feel sick, the feeling swells in my stomach and pushes a surge of panic right through my body.

“I’m sorry.” He frowns with concern and shakes his head gently. “We have to follow procedure. There’s always the chance that you could be further along than those tests indicate, and that could be a problem.”

“So you can’t give me the tablets today?”

“No, I’m sorry. But let me look at the appointments for the clinic and see how soon we can get you in.”     

He starts to tap on the keyboard in front of him, mumbling to himself. The tone of his voice starts to echo around my head and I blink to refocus the blur in the corners of my eyes. My head swims with all the information he’s given me. The process, the side effects, the possibilities of changing my mind, the repercussions of regret. I just want it all to go away. I don’t want to make this choice, I don’t want to be responsible for making this choice. I want to rewind time and not be in this situation. If I could rewind to that night, would I have changed things? Could I have stopped it?

“Miss Randall? Are you okay?” I hear the doctor talking to me but he seems so far away. I try to answer, but my words don’t come out.

Then it all goes quiet, and I black out.

When I next open my eyes, I am laying on the floor of the doctor’s office, surrounded by pillows and covered in a soft white blanket.

“Megan?” he asks softly, as I try to focus my heavy eyes. I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus and I just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep.

“Yes,” I whisper, the back of my throat feels dry and scratchy.

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know. Um, tired, I guess.”

“Yes, you are tired, exhausted, I’d say. Can you try and sit up for me?” He holds out a hand and helps me in to a sitting position before passing me a glass of water. “Is there anything you’re particularly worried about, other than this situation?” I shake my head, not wanting to get in to a conversation about the crazy stuff going on in my head at the moment. I don’t think I would be able to stop talking once I had started, and right now I just want to get out of here and go home, wherever that is. “Okay, well, I hope you don’t mind, but we called your next of kin when you blacked out. You were out for a good ten minutes and I’m not happy about letting you go home alone.”

“Who? Who did you call?” I ask, confused. I’m not even sure who I have down as my next of kin.

“A Mr. Brooks. He said he will be right here to pick you up.”

“Oh, shit,” I mutter struggling to my feet. “I have to go.” I push the information leaflets across the desk toward him and grab up my bag.

“Miss Randall?”

“He can’t know why I was here, okay?” I can’t hide the tone of annoyance in my voice. “Do not tell him … and take him off your system as my next of kin. I don’t have one. Okay?”

“But, your appointment? Do you still wish to proceed with the termination?”

The way he says that makes it sound so clinical. So matter of fact, like it doesn’t really matter at all. I stop with my back to him and sigh. “Yes,” I say reluctantly, turning back to face him with a sick, hollow feeling in my stomach. “Yes, I do. But please, don’t take it upon yourself to decide when I need babysitting.” My heart is screaming at me, trying to overrule what my head is telling me is the sensible thing to do. What does my heart know anyway?

“I apologise. Here …” he passes me a slip of paper with a date and time written down. “I can’t get you in before Friday I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine. Thank you.” I take the appointment slip from him and shove it in my bag.

“I suggest you take it easy for a couple of days.”

“Yeah.” I choke out a laugh as I leave the office. If only he knew what a crazy few days I’ve had. The madness that my life has become lately is enough to make anyone feel faint.

“Meg?”

Shit. As I pull the door to the doctor’s office closed behind me, Damien is right there. He rushes forward looking concerned, the doting boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, next of kin, whatever he is.

“I’m fine, Damien. He shouldn’t have called you.” I push his arm out of the way before he gets a chance to put it around me, and I walk quickly out of the building.

“Meg, wait up.” He jogs down the steps behind me and places his hand on my shoulder.

“Did you not hear me?” I snap, spinning around. “I said I’m fine. You didn’t give two shits when you fucked off for a month. Don’t play the doting, whatever you are, and try to come to my rescue when I don’t fucking need you, got it?”

“Don’t be like that, Meg.”

“What do you want from me, Damien? I don’t know what you expect me to do after the way you treated me. After what you did … You want me to take you back, is that it?” He looks shocked at my cold reply. He knows I can have a sharp tongue, but it’s never been directed at him unless we were either drunk or high, or both, and then we could have some real screaming matches. Our arguments were always explosive but never lasted for long before it turned to passion fuelled sex sessions that had the neighbours banging on the walls for us to shut up. For some strange reason, I miss that. I miss the passion. I miss the way I knew what button I could push to get the attention that I wanted. Maybe that makes me a spoiled brat. Maybe that makes me a bitch, I don’t know. But we looked after each other, or so I thought, and I miss having someone other than Jamie to turn to. But I can’t forgive him. I’ve tried. I want to because I just want to go back to when life was easy, comfortable. But something changed, and he didn’t put me first, and it wasn’t until I sat for nights on end and analysed our relationship that I realised how toxic it was. He hadn’t put me first for a long time, he just made me believe he did. It had been a long time since he actually looked in to my eyes and saw me. I mean really looked at me for who I am, as opposed to who he wanted me to be. If I wasn’t giving him something he wanted or that was to his benefit, he wasn’t really interested, and I’ll never go back to that. Those months ago when I saw Finn, he actually looked deep in to me, he analysed me and even from across the club I could feel his intensity. He saw me as a woman, and as an individual. And he kept looking, with no less interest than the last time he saw me. Which made me feel alive again. A feeling I hadn’t realised I’d lost until he came along.

“Yes. I want you to take me back. I miss you, Megan,” he says softly, and with such sincerity it’s hard not to believe him. “I want you to come home. It’s not home there without you.”

“You left me there for weeks, it didn’t feel too much like home then either.”

“I’ve apologised for that, and I’ll apologise again. I am truly sorry, Megan. I was … stupid.”

Just by looking in to those soft grey eyes of his, I feel myself softening to his plea. I feel vulnerable. I feel torn, and I need to fix it. But this baby, shit, being pregnant changes everything.

“Yes, you were, Damien. But−”

He presses a finger to my lips stopping me from saying any more. “Don’t say it. Don’t say anything. Just think about it, please? I’ll do anything to get you back, Megs. I miss your beautiful face in the morning. I miss your temper, and your foul mouth.” He slides his finger from my lips, across my cheek bone and tenderly cups the side of my face. I let myself lean in to his warm familiar touch. It’s easy, so easy. But it’s not the same as it used to be. It doesn’t feel like it did before. His touch is tainted with hurt. It’s tainted with the selfishness of what he did to Finn’s sister, and the fact that he’s still showing no remorse. He’s just trying to get what he wants. We’ve hurt each other, and although he doesn’t know about what I did that night, I know. I’ll always know, and I’ll never be able to go back to who I was, because I can’t take that night away, and because I know I need more than he can give me.

“No.” I shake my head and push his hand away. “I can’t, Damien. Please don’t make it hard for me. I can’t. Just leave me alone, please. I’m sorry.”

His shoulders drop as I back away and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows heavily. I hate doing this to him, but it’s all different now.

Everything has changed.