Hold on Tight (22 page)

Jamie didn’t have the heart to tell her that Chris was about ready to shove her to the side and begin the exam himself. Thank goodness, he refrained. Instead, he muttered to himself as the doctor put the cold gel on Jamie’s stomach and began to move the probe around.

That’s when Chris really began to hover, his head practically blocking the screen.

“I’m going to need some room, sir, unless you’d like to do the exam.” It was an attempted joke on the doctor’s part, until Chris made a move to take the probe from her.

“Chris, please. Let her look.”

He backed away and then pointed at the screen. “Heartbeat.”

The doctor smiled, although her patience seemed to be wearing thin. “Yes, there’s a heartbeat. Everything looks great.”

“There was a small gas leak at my house. Thankfully, I was sleeping with the windows open, but …” Jamie said, forgoing the whole
and my house exploded
part of the explanation. Better to let the doctor think they were some random couple vacationing in the area.

“We can do a blood test to check your CO
₂
levels,” the doctor assured her. “I’d also like to do a quick pelvic exam. Just to double-check the baby’s size and position.”

“That’s fine.”

“Do you have any idea when you conceived?”

Jamie gave her an estimated date and the doctor turned the wheel of a paper chart. “You’re due sometime in late December. Right now, that’s the most exact I can be. I know most women like to have a specific date, but it’s rare to have a baby deliver on time. But you’ll know more when you have your next ultrasound and we take some measurements.”

Chris was staring out the window through the half-opened blinds. If he’d heard the doctor, he didn’t react. “I’ll give you some privacy for the exam,” was all he said, and stepped outside the room.

Dr. James was quick—the exam was completed in under five minutes and Jamie was sitting up as the doctor snapped off the gloves and threw them in the trash. “You need regular checkups, starting next month. Find a doctor, and a hospital where you’d like to give birth.”

“I’m thinking of trying a midwife instead,” Jamie said as she wiped the gel from her belly with the towelette Dr. James handed her.

“If you need some recommendations, I’ve got them,” the doctor offered on her way out of the room.

Jamie shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ve already got someone in mind.”

When he woke, he checked his watch and groaned. “Why the hell didn’t you wake me?”

Jamie had been sitting at the table, gun in front of her. “You looked too cute to wake.”

He frowned. “I’m not cute, Jamie. Christ.” He lumbered into the bathroom and washed up with a quick shower. When he returned, he headed straight for the fridge.

Soda in one hand, gun in the other, he scanned the windows before he opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch. “Want some fresh air?”

She did, and so she stepped out next to him, sat in the old swing. “Are you ever going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“What’s happening in your life isn’t enough?” he asked. “Shit, sorry. I know you’re worried.”

“I like that you know me.”

“I know every inch of you. We may not have spent much time together, but I know. You have three freckles in a triangle formation right here.” His finger stroked her left shoulder. “Your scars, your bruises. Small scar on your belly button from an operation. Laparoscopic—appendix.”

She nodded, her attention rapt, lips slightly parted. “I know you too.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’ve got that interesting scar along your chest and back. And here … and here and here.” Her fingers traveled from chest to back over the soft cotton of his T-shirt. She noticed things that most women didn’t. Had from the first.

It made him want to pull back. To run, because he wasn’t used to someone knowing him.

His brothers didn’t count—they didn’t spend time analyzing him, pushing, prodding, pressing.

Jamie would, had already, albeit in the most subtle manner ever, which made it the most disconcerting as well.

He needed to call home, check in. His only consolation was that Izzy and Kaylee were with his brothers now, and holy hell, that was a first.

All three of them attached. In love.

Just like Momma had predicted.

You’ll fall like dominoes
.

Rapid succession
.

No stopping it once the chain starts
.

“That’s beautiful,” Jamie said. She’d been watching the red sky, breathing in the fact that another night had passed safely.

“I’ve never brought anyone here.”

“Why?”

“Never found the right person.”

She smiled at that but quickly turned pensive. “Do you want this baby?” she asked finally. “I mean, we haven’t talked about what this means for us, not really. We’ve put it off.”

They had—suddenly, it was in the forefront, of paramount importance. When he’d seen the pregnancy test sitting on her back table, he’d forced himself not to react, to assess the situation as if it had nothing to do with him.

He had to do that to keep back the anger at knowing that some psychopath was gunning for the woman he loved and their child. “I never planned on having kids. I didn’t want them. Partly because of what I’ve told you—that I know when people are going to die. And partly because I don’t want to pass this psychic Cajun bullshit on to anyone.”

She nodded, and he continued, “I know I sound bitter. Look, my momma and my dad handled their gifts much more gracefully than I have. I blame my dad sometimes for mine. Logically, I know it’s not his fault.”

“It’s hard to think logically when it comes to parents.”

“I guess so. At first, with the gift, I didn’t know any better. It was just always there. Same for my parents and most of the relatives I grew up with. People came to see us because of our abilities.” When he thought back on those days, everything was bright. “It was only after I moved to New York that I noticed I was really different.”

When Jake was hurt—really hurt—Chris felt it like a punch to the gut. He’d never forget that sensation of sucking air like a fish out of water, knowing something was desperately wrong but being unable to do anything about it.

His momma’s gift was different. She hadn’t needed to touch, could tell a woman was pregnant long before the woman knew herself. Maggie also predicted the sex of all the babies she’d delivered, and refused to touch the women she knew needed the hospital instead of a midwife and a home birth.

Your life will revolve around birth and death—you’ll have a hand in each
was all she’d told him before she’d died, that fucking horrible Christmas Eve turning into Christmas Day, ensuring that none of them ever celebrated those holidays again. It hadn’t mattered that Maggie would’ve been angry with them for mourning her for so long in such a joyless way—wouldn’t have mattered that she also would’ve understood completely.

“How did she die?” Jamie asked.

“Cancer. Ovarian. It was quick. At the time, they didn’t have the treatments they have now. You would’ve loved her. She just had this way of making everyone want to hang around.”

“Like your brothers.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t have much of a choice. Once she wanted you to do something, once she made up her mind, there was no stopping her.”

“Ah, an inherited trait.” She paused and then, “Were you mad at your mom when she died?”

“As stupid as it sounds, yeah, for a while. But I guess bringing Jake and Nick into our family—it was meant to soften the edges of the grief. We all got a hell of a lot closer after that.”

“I’m so sorry, Chris—about your mom. And Mark. And the way you know things. But I keep thinking …” She paused and then she looked at him, really looked at him, and he felt a chill go through him, hoping she wouldn’t ask. “Do you … I mean, do you feel that I’m going to …?”

“Do I see you dying over the next few days?” he snapped, and immediately she turned apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I can’t believe I asked that.”

He stared up at the sky. “Yeah, me either. Please … you can’t fucking ask me that again. Ever.”

“I won’t.”

He started to turn away from her, then realized there was no place to go.

Finally he looked at her. Her hands were shaking, her eyes were wet and he wanted to tell her it was okay. But it wasn’t—not by a fucking long shot.

“That’s why you stayed away from me, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You were worried that you loved me, and that you’d know if I …”

“I do love you, Jamie. Tried to deny it for a while, and when that didn’t work, I convinced myself that you could never bring yourself to trust me, never mind love me back.” His voice held steady, but he felt anything but. “I know it’s not exactly the best time to tell you that.”

“It’s the right time, Chris.” She reached out a hand to him and he took it. “For me, safety was key. It was all about logic. Discipline. Control. But now, that’s all gone. I realize that I never had any control to begin with. It was a huge illusion.”

He swallowed hard. “I wish I could tell you everything would work out, but that’s not the way my gift rolls.”

“I’m thinking about what it must be like. Thinking that because you’ve fallen in love with me, I can hurt you without lifting a finger or saying a harsh word.”

“None of this is your fault. It’s not like you put a spell on me to make me love you.”

“You’re not happy about it. If you fall out of love with me, forget about me, then I won’t be responsible for hurting you, the way you’re hurting now.”

“That’s not going to happen. Once I’ve loved you, that’s all it takes. And let’s just say that I’m not falling out of love with you. I know that. Look, with my mom, she knew she was sick. She told us pretty quickly once it was confirmed,” he started, took himself back to that horrible time when he was fourteen, going on fifteen, with two new brothers and a dad who was in shock from the news.

“But you already knew.”

“Yes.” They’d been in the car, on the way home from dinner. She’d turned around to tell them something and he’d seen it, the flash, and then it was as if she was outlined in a white light. “At first I thought we were going to be in a car accident. I made my father pull the car over. Had a panic attack in the backseat.”

He recalled how freaked Nick and Jake had been for him. They’d just been getting used to Maggie and Kenny’s ways—and Chris’s, since he hadn’t completely let them in yet. That had only truly happened after Maggie’s death.

“After a few minutes, my mom took me aside and she said,
I know, Nicolas Christopher. It’s not a car accident. Let’s get home and we’ll talk
.”

He leaned his head back to stare up at the rapidly darkening sky. “And so we went home and she and Dad told us about the cancer. About how she wasn’t going to have the treatment. And I didn’t argue with her; Jake and Nick wanted me to. But I knew that no matter what, treatment wouldn’t help.” He brought his gaze down, looked at the ground. “She died two months later. On Christmas Day. My birthday. I haven’t celebrated either since.”

She didn’t know what else to do but grab his hand and hold it tight. “It must be so hard … But Chris, I need you to know, just meeting you changed me. So I’d take a week or a month or a year with you, if it was between that and never having met you at all.”

“That sounds like something my momma would’ve said.”

“She was a smart woman,” she said. “Don’t focus on what could happen. I’ve spent my life up until now focusing on that. Let’s focus on what we’ve got.”

“I’m not letting you put yourself in danger.”

“But I’m supposed to let you do so for me?”

“Yes. Absolutely yes.” He managed a small smile. “You never said how you feel about the baby,” he said, and no, she hadn’t, hadn’t really processed any of it until this minute.

“I never thought I’d be in a place to have a baby,” she said, her brow furrowed. “It’s like PJ said to me, that it’s hard enough trying to account for ourselves, but bringing a child into it adds a whole new sense of danger. But then … then I think about you, and all the worries kind of fall away.”

He nodded. “We can do this. But please, for Christ’s sake, don’t ever ask me what you wanted to before, not ever. Don’t ever ask me.” As he reiterated, his voice grew tighter.

“No. I promise, Chris. Never.”

That seemed to satisfy him, and so she leaned into him further, took his face in her hands and drew him to her for a kiss.

He tasted good, sweet like soda, and it made her deepen the kiss, her hands winding in his hair to keep him close. And then she was in his lap, the rifle and everything else forgotten as she straddled him on the swing, her breath coming faster as the kisses became more frantic, a dance and a duel at once. Their bodies struggling against the constraints of the swing and clothing until he pulled back, rested his forehead against hers.

His breath was as fast as hers and there was no hiding his arousal. She wanted him naked, on the chair or the ground or on the hood of his car—it didn’t matter. She needed skin on skin, the feeling of weightlessness that came from making love with him.

“Please, Chris, don’t stop. I want more.”

“Right here?”

“Right here,” she agreed.

He responded with a kiss, one that threatened to have them naked in under a minute and going nowhere fast. And that’s what she wanted.

He picked her up and walked a couple of feet to lay her on the sweet grass next to the cabin, under the willow tree in the warm night air. The lovemaking was slow and hot, the tension that held her body in a vise grip melted with her orgasm.

Everything was quiet and private. Everything was all right as long as they stayed here.