Arrest (A Disarm Novel) (7 page)

While in the waiting room, I tried calling Henry again but received no answer. “Fuck, Henry, answer your fucking phone,” I said under my breath. I needed my husband beside me during this critical time and he was nowhere to be found.

Kari sat beside me, holding my hand, trying her best to be Henry’s substitute.

Another round of cramps racked my insides, and I doubled over, trying not to cry out.

Kari stood up and stalked over to the front desk. “My friend over there could be losing her baby. Is there any way we can hurry up and get her seen already?”

The nurse shook her head and motioned to the several other people in the waiting room.

Dr. Harmon finally called me back on my cell, telling me that she couldn’t get out of the office. “I’ve already called the hospital. They’ll test the HCG in your blood levels and do an ultrasound.”

“Am I going to lose the baby?” I asked, trying to sound strong and not sure I’d succeeded.

“I don’t know, Elsie,” she said gently. “But bleeding during pregnancy is actually quite common. Many go on to carry full term. It could be a number of things, so don’t worry yet.”

That wasn’t really comforting to me; in fact it had quite the opposite effect.

“Are you filling more than one pad an hour?” she asked. “Pain?”

“No. I don’t think so. The bleeding just started. But the pain is intensifying.”

“I don’t know if they’ll send you back home, but stay positive, Elsie. I’ll be there at six.”

“Thanks.” I hung up just as Kari came back with a few more pads in hand.

“They told me to sit tight and wait, but gave me these just in case,” she said, handing me the packages.

I stood up to go to the bathroom when I felt a gush, as if gravity had wrenched out a part of me. I looked down to find blood saturating my pants and dripping at my feet.

The last thing I remembered was my vision graying as the linoleum floor rushed at me.

I was disoriented when I woke, not recognizing the room or the bed I was in.

“How are you feeling?” a male voice asked. I was about to breathe a sigh of relief when I turned my head and saw that it wasn’t my husband standing by my bed but my boss. “Sherman, you gave me a fright,” Conor said, taking hold of my hand.

“What are you doing here?” I looked around the room, finding Kari in the corner and nobody else. Still no Henry.

“I called him to say we were going to be gone the rest of the day, and he demanded to know the reason,” Kari said, stepping forward. “I had to tell him, Elsie. I’m sorry.”

I nodded, tears blurring my vision once again. “And the baby?”

Kari bit her lip and looked away, not needing to say any more.

I closed my eyes but the tears fell anyway, fat drops rolling down the sides of my face and onto the pillow. “Are they sure?” I asked in a near whisper.

“They did an ultrasound and blood test,” Kari said. “If you want, I can call the nurse in and she can explain it better.”

I shook my head, unable to bear the thought of hearing in cold, medical terms exactly how my baby had died.

“They asked us to call them as soon as you’re conscious, to get your consent on performing a D and C.”

A nurse came in then, an elderly woman with dark skin and even darker circles around her eyes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” she said, grabbing the clipboard at the end of my bed. She turned to Kari and Conor. “Would you two please wait outside?”

“We’ll be right there if you need us,” Conor said and followed Kari out the door.

When they had gone, the nurse closed the curtain and turned to me with a grave look. “I’m sorry about your loss.”

My lips quivered as I tried my damnedest to keep from bursting into angry tears. “Are you sure?”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “When you’re ready, we need to talk about a D and C,” she said. “It’s a procedure where your cervix will be dilated and then the doctors will remove the contents of your uterus to make sure everything is out to prevent an infection.”

I lost control of my emotions and, despite the ache in my stomach, I sobbed hard.

She sat on the side of the bed and patted my hand, careful not to press on the IV needles, and sat quietly with me for a long while, giving me the comfort of her presence until I was ready to sign the forms.

—

In the end, the procedure was over in a blur. What I had carried inside me for eleven weeks was gone in twenty minutes, and soon I was wheeled back to the recovery room to take in my loss in private.

At nearly ten, Kari and Conor finally went home at my insistence. “Take a few days off if you need,” he said, his brows knitted with worry. “Take care of yourself, Sherman,” he added before they left.

In that dark room, with only the soft humming of medical equipment, I stared up at the ceiling and tried my hardest to keep from falling to pieces.

I’d never felt more alone in my entire life.

—

I woke up to knocking on my door. I opened my swollen eyes to find Henry standing at the door, his solid frame illuminated by the fluorescent lights behind him.

“Elsie,” he said, crossing the room in three long strides and bending down to gather me in his arms, pulling me up off the bed. He buried his face in my neck and I felt his hot tears land on my shoulder but my insides were numb and so I felt nothing but the gaping hollowness. His shoulders quaked as he held me, rocking me back and forth, holding me tight.

After what seemed like forever, he finally pulled away. He grabbed my face and planted kisses on my lips. “I’m sorry,” he said over and over.

Unable to bear his touch, I pulled his hands away. “Where were you?”

“My phone was out of battery,” he said, stung. “Why didn’t you call the station? They could have radioed me.”

“You never told me I could.” I looked at him still in uniform, at the bags under his red eyes, and realized he hadn’t had any sleep yet. “Go home and sleep, Henry.”

He frowned as hurt and anger flew across his features. “I’m finally here. Why the hell would I leave?”

“Because you haven’t had any sleep,” I said simply, lying back again.

“I’m staying,” he said, taking my hand.

I turned away. “It’s okay. They just wanted to keep me overnight for observation. I’ll be released later today.”

“Then I’m leaving later today. With you.”

“Henry, you have to work tonight. So please, go home and get some sleep.”

He wrapped his fingers around my jaw and turned me to face him. “Why the hell are you pushing me away right now?”

I turned my eyes to the dark stubble on his cheek, unable to meet his angry gaze.

“Fuck sleep. Right now, I want to be with you,” he said in a rough voice. “I’m sorry. I should have been here when . . .”

His unspoken words undid me, and my face crumbled in on itself.

“Come here,” he said, reaching out with one hand to pull me into his chest. He curled over me and we grieved together in the dark.

—

I survived the next few weeks by tucking the hurt and the sadness inside, pasting on a fake smile in hopes that acting the part would somehow convince my heart to feel it.

Any day now, I was sure of it.

Henry seemed everywhere and nowhere at once. He still worked a lot, leaving me alone for long periods of time, but when he was at home he practically suffocated me with his presence, constantly cuddling me, offering to make me tea, anything to ease the blow of his absence that night. His constant pandering irritated me until I finally couldn’t take it anymore and just told him to back off.

“I don’t need you to treat me like an invalid, Henry,” I told him one day after the third time he suggested we go shopping or watch a movie.

He frowned at me as his nostrils flared. “I’m not. I’m just trying to get you to leave the house. Maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

I gestured at my perch on the couch, the blanket over me with my e-reader and a cup of coffee nearby. “I’m fine right here.”

“Where you’ve been for the past three days.”

“If you want to go shopping so bad, why don’t you go call Sondra and make a day of it? Get a mani-pedi and talk about your poor wife who can’t even get herself up off the couch,” I said, relishing the fact that I was getting him so riled up.

His nostrils flared again. “I haven’t told her about . . . it.”

“It?”

He averted his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“It’s easy for you, isn’t it? To just pretend the baby wasn’t real, so you can deal with it?”

“You think this is easy for me?” he asked, his features clouding over. He paced in front of me, the veins in his forehead popping. “I’m trying to be the strong one here even though it’s tearing me apart. I’m trying to be here for you.”

“You’re here for me? Where were you when it really mattered?” I asked, pushing the blanket away and rising to my feet. “I needed you, Henry, and you weren’t there. You were out there saving Denver when you should have been with me, saving our child.”

“That’s not fucking fair!” His voice boomed like thunder throughout the house, surprising me with its force.

I knew it wasn’t fair—I knew that—but it didn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth. Maybe I just wanted to hurt him as much as I was hurting.

He grabbed me by the shoulders, his fingers digging into my flesh. The unmasked look of resentment in his eyes filled me with regret and worry. I had never seen him look at me like that before, and it made me feel absolutely wretched. “You’re not the only one who lost something that day, Els.”

I turned away, ashamed of myself but unable to voice my regret. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we do need to get out of the house,” I said instead.

He wanted to say more, I could see it in the hard set of his jaw, but he said nothing else. He just nodded, the look still on his face.

We ended up going to a nearly-deserted matinee movie—I couldn’t even recall which one now—but it felt as if something had shifted between us. We didn’t touch, barely even acknowledged each other. We simply sat together like two strangers who just happened to be in the same place at the same time.

As we sat there in the darkened room, I looked down at our hands resting on our own laps, neither one of us even daring to use the armrest. It was as if we didn’t know how to act around each other anymore. We, who had grown up together, who had braved the death of my brother together, suddenly couldn’t figure out a way to deal with this kind of grief. Instead of drawing us closer, the loss of our baby was tearing us apart.

Unable to bear the thought of losing him too, I leaned over and reached for his hand in the dark, holding my breath as I waited for a response.

After a few tense moments, I closed my eyes in relief when his fingers curled around mine. That one gesture filled me with so much hope, my sight immediately blurred with tears.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, bringing his hand up and kissing his knuckles.

His eyes flickered from the light of the movie screen as he gazed down at me. Then he bent down until our foreheads were touching and granted me a rueful smile.

“I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of line,” I said.

He nodded gently.

“I just . . .” I swallowed. “I’ve been carrying around all of this guilt, and I think I needed to just give it someone else to carry for a while.”

“It’s not your fault, Elsie. You heard the doctor. She said it happens to one in five women. You couldn’t have done anything differently to prevent it.”

“I could have loved it from the very beginning.” My voice broke at the end, and before I had a chance to blink, Henry lifted the armrest out of the way and gathered me into his side.

“Hey, don’t do this. Don’t even think that, okay?” he said, brushing hair away from my face.

I buried my face in his neck. “Sometimes I feel so weak, like I’ve fallen to my knees and can’t get back up.”

He touched my chin and lifted my face up to meet his. “Then lean on me, Elsie,” he said, determination and love in his eyes. “I’ll hold you up until you’re strong enough to stand on your own again.”

Time heals all wounds, but only because the brain is a forgetful thing. We forget on purpose in order to leave the past behind and move on; it’s human nature. And since I’m only human, the hurt subsided with each day that passed.

After a month, I had almost completely convinced myself that the miscarriage was for the best, that there was a valid medical reason why my body decided to terminate the pregnancy. Whenever I felt myself spiraling into sadness, I’d remind myself that there was nothing I could have done to change what happened, that it wasn’t my fault.

When you tell yourself something enough times, eventually, you start to believe it.

—

Conor came by my cubicle one day, hanging his arms over the low wall. “How are you, Sherman?”

I smiled up at him. “Logan. And I’m doing fine.”

“I noticed you’ve been keeping your head down and working hard on the presentation.”

I nodded, glancing back at my screen, hoping he wouldn’t come farther into my cubicle and see that I was actually just looking at funny pictures on the Internet.

“I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate your work ethic, that you didn’t bring your personal issues with you to work.”

I felt my face warm up, from the compliment and from the fact that he had seen me at my worst. “Thanks for not telling anyone.”

“It’s not mine to tell.” His eyes assessed me quietly for a long, uncomfortable moment. “I’m sorry it happened.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway, if you wanted to get out of here early today, then go ahead.”

I glanced at the stack of folders on my desk and the to-do list pinned to my wall. “That might not be possible.”

“Do it Monday,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. Something caught his attention across the wall of cubicles for a moment and he straightened. “Seems you have a visitor,” he said, his mood changing.

I stood up and found Henry walking down my row, making the breath catch in my throat. He looked intimidatingly gorgeous in his black leather jacket and jeans, with day-old stubble on his face and sunglasses covering his eyes. He walked toward us with long, comfortable strides, ignoring looks from my coworkers, his attention aimed directly at me as if I was his prey and he had all the time in the world to catch me.

I had to admit, seeing him like that rekindled the fires that had once burned low in my belly. I hadn’t seen him much the past few days, except when he was asleep, and seeing him this way was like a punch to the gut. Sometimes even I forgot how magnetic and beautiful my husband was.

“Hi,” he said, coming to a stop at the entrance to my cubicle.

Conor gave him a slap on the back. “Nice to see you again.”

“Same to you.” Henry took off his sunglasses and aimed his attention to me. “Hey.” He reached out and touched the small of my back and gave me a quick, warm kiss.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my lips tingling. It had been over two months since we’d last had sex, and all of a sudden, it was as if he was sending out pheromones that my body was picking up.

“It’s a nice day. I wanted to see if you were available to go for a ride on the Harley with me.” He glanced down at his watch. “Just for a while.”

“I was just telling her to get out of here,” Conor said, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets. “To take the rest of the day off. She’s been working too hard.”

Henry raised a dark eyebrow at me. “Well?”

My eyes flicked between the two men but eventually landed back on my husband. “You’re lucky I’m wearing jeans and boots,” I said to Henry. “But I don’t have my jacket.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I brought it with me.”

Conor started to back away. “See you on Monday, Logan,” he said and walked off toward his see-through office.

—

In the parking lot, Henry pulled my jacket from a saddlebag and came around to me. I slipped into the sleeves while he held the jacket out, then he gently tugged my hair out from the collar. I was acutely aware of his gaze on my face as he zipped up the front of my jacket and closed the snap at my neck, his fingers touching the skin at my throat for the briefest moment.

“What’s the special occasion?” I asked as he handed me my helmet.

“The sun is out,” he said. “What better way to enjoy the approaching spring than to ride together?”

Spring, the time of year when animals answered the mating call. That explained it all.

He gazed down at me, his blue eyes warm with sincerity. “But mostly you. You’re the special occasion.” He swung a leg over the bike and turned to me. “Ready?”

I pulled the helmet over my head and sat on the bike, wrapping my arms around his torso. “Ready,” I said and the bike roared to life.

We rode around downtown Denver then headed west on Sixth Avenue toward the mountains. Even though I didn’t have to, I held on tight, pressing my body into his back. Every now and then I caught a whiff of his scent, and it was all I could do not to hump him right then and there.

The fresh air and the sunshine were like bleach to my soul. With each mile we traversed, I felt as if the tethers that had been holding me down were loosened, flapping behind me in the wind until they tore off one by one.

By the time we stopped at a scenic lookout and I climbed off the bike, I could almost imagine that I was the old Elsie, whose only worry was whether following her brother to Oklahoma was the right thing to do. That girl was still excited about life’s possibilities, still woke up with a smile on her face. She didn’t know yet about the pain of losing her only sibling, didn’t know yet the highs and lows of loving the boy of her dreams, of the mental anguish a man can go through when he realizes he’s not the man he thought he was. She didn’t know that marrying the love of her life did not guarantee a happily ever after, that heartbreak could still occur on the other side.

“What are you thinking?” Henry asked, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

I looked out over the view of the jagged mountains, and decided that, for today, I could be that old Elsie. I twisted around in his arms and looked up into his face as I unzipped his jacket and slipped my arms inside. “Absolutely nothing,” I said, molding my body against his.

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You sure?”

I stood on my tiptoes. “I lied,” I whispered against his ear, my lips brushing against his lobe. “I was thinking about how I want you to bend me over this bike, spread my legs apart, and fuck me hard.”

My words hit their intended target; I felt the stirring in his pants almost immediately. He gazed down at me with a dark, heated expression and said in a rough voice, “God, I want to.”

“Then let’s do it,” I said, knowing that the old Elsie would have had no reservations, even if this new one did.

“Has it been long enough?” he asked, uncertainty tainting his desire.

Dr. Harmon had originally advised we wait for a month before trying again with the caveat that sometimes it took longer to heal emotionally. I wasn’t entirely sure about the stability of my emotional state, but my body was definitely raring to go. “Hell yes,” I said without hesitation.

The ride back to our house was long and gave me ample opportunity to question myself. Slowly but surely the old Elsie flew off into the wind, as if returning to the vicinity of our house brought us back to our issues. By the time Henry parked the bike in the garage, I had almost convinced myself that it was too soon, that I wasn’t ready yet.

I climbed off the bike the moment Henry killed the ignition, immediately taking my helmet off and placing it on the shelf. I held out a hand, waiting for Henry to hand me his helmet too. I stood by the shelves, my back to the bike, taking my time, uncertainty clouding my thoughts.

“Hey, come here,” Henry said gently. He leaned against the bike’s seat and pulled me between his legs, setting his hands on my waist. “You okay? Having second thoughts?”

He knew. Just one look at my face and he knew. “How do you do that?” I asked, more to procrastinate than from actual curiosity.

He flashed a crooked grin. “Give me some credit here. I’ve known you since you were twelve.” He guided me closer and gently touched his lips to mine. One hand slid up my back and tangled in my curls. “I’ve missed you, Els.”

“I’ve missed you too.” I leaned into another kiss, cocking my head to get deeper inside him, feeling my desire roaring back to life. With that kiss, all my worries melted away.

I straddled one thick thigh and ground myself into him, struggling to ease the ache between my legs. He groaned in appreciation, flexing the muscles on his leg to give me more resistance.

“Fuck, Els,” he rasped against my lips.

His words sent arrows of lust directly to my loins. I took a step back and shrugged off my jacket; he followed suit then reached behind his head and pulled off his T-shirt. He raised one dark eyebrow, waiting for my next move.

“Strip me,” I said, giving him access to my body once again. His hot palms slid under my shirt and up my back, undoing my bra clasp even as they moved up to pull my shirt over my head. “Smooth,” I said with a smile.

“It’s a gift.” His hands moved down to the waistband of my jeans, undoing my button and fly. Then, with nostrils flaring, he slid them down my hips, hooking his thumbs in my panties and taking them along for the southbound trip.

I kicked off my boots and stepped out of my pants, standing completely naked in the garage and loving it. Henry’s hands roamed around my body as his eyes drank me in with lust and adoration, kneading and spanking and pinching at will.

“I want to see you straddling the Harley like that.” He stood up and lifted me onto the bike. The cool bite of the leather was a nice contrast to the heat of my crotch. I gave him a seductive smile and leaned over to grasp the handlebars, arching my back to improve the visual.

“Like this?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “Fuck, that’s sexy,” he ground out. “I’d like to do you right there on the bike.”

“Then do it.”

It didn’t take him long to kick off his shoes and pants. Don’t let men fool you; they can actually move quite fast when there’s sex on the line. In less than a minute, he was standing beside the bike completely nude, ready for action. “Lean over a bit more.” He palmed his erect cock with one hand while the other reached over and started the bike.

The effect was instant, like turning on a massive vibrator between my legs. I shifted around, trying to find the best angle, moaning when I found it. “Oh!”

Henry climbed on behind me, sliding me forward onto the red gas tank. He grasped my hips and lifted my ass up, then guided me to his shaft. I sank onto him almost immediately, eager to feel the bike against me again.

He made an indistinct noise through his teeth, no doubt also experiencing the bike’s thrums against his balls. “Fuck, this feels good,” he barked out. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

We sat still for a few moments, enjoying the tremors that racked our bodies. Then he gripped my hips and lifted my ass before he began to rock into me. I reached out and grasped the handlebars to steady myself, standing on the pegs for better leverage.

I felt so wanton and wild, being fucked on a motorcycle by my big biker man, with my hair over my face and my breasts bouncing around. In that moment, nothing outside this garage mattered. Only Henry and me and the bike below us.

I started when he slapped my ass hard enough to sting. I lifted my butt higher, asking for more.

“You like that?” he asked, stroking my heated skin a moment before smacking me again.

The sting was a welcome distraction, the kind of pain that didn’t go past the surface of the skin. I welcomed it, wanted more.

Henry moved to the other cheek, slapping the flesh as he said, “You’ve been shaking this ass at me for years. Now it’s all mine.” He smacked me again before taking both cheeks in his hands and kneading them. All the while, he was thrusting into me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

I heard him start to pant, felt his fingers dig deeper into my flesh. I tightened around him, hoping to chase his climax down.

“I’m about to come,” he said and as he did, he pressed me back down onto the bike, shocking me into an intense orgasm. I tried to push up but he held me down, the strong vibrations wrenching another miniorgasm out of me.

I was shuddering by the time he reached over to turn off the bike. He bent down and planted kisses up my spine, lifting my hair out of the way, and stopping at my nape. Goose bumps broke out over my skin as he whispered, “It’s good to have you back.”