Igniting the Wild Sparks (21 page)

I’m a fucking jerk.

I swallow as my throat constricts, and all I can do is whisper, “You’re so right and I’m so sorry.”

Becks
absently nods and slowly starts sitting up. Instantly following suit, I take ahold of her arm to help her. Without looking at me, she asks, “Can you get me some Tylenol and a glass of water?”

“Are you in a lot of pain?”

“Some. I’m going to go to the bathroom. Just leave them on the nightstand. I’m going to try a cool shower.” What’s bothering her more? Her stomach or my confession?

“Becks, if you’re in that much pain, maybe I should take you back to the ER.”
I can’t wait to explain to the doctor why she’s in even more pain. Shit.

“No. It’s not that bad.” She gets up and I notice her making a face at doing so.

“How about I get a shower with you so I can help?”

She doesn’t hesitate. “No. Go to sleep.” She walks around the bed
and as she makes it to my side, I get up and block her from the door.

I tell her,
“You look pale.”
Real good with the compliment, ass
.

“I’m good.” She forces a rigid smile
, but she hasn’t perfected the art like I’ve had to. She moves to the side to walk past me, but I grab her wrist, coaxing her to me.

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Sure.” She looks up at me, but her eyes won’t stay on my face. I bend to meet her lips; however, as soon as we converge, she barely kisses me before she’s gone, reminding me of what she did before dinner Saturday.

I pull my boxer briefs back on and walk out to the kitchen. I hear
the shower starting and have to stop myself from going in there. I find her some Tylenol and get her a glass of water. As I walk into the bedroom, I faintly hear coughing. I set the glass on her nightstand and go to the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?”

She doesn’t respond, so I knock. She answers, “Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Becks, I’ll stay up until you come to bed.”

“Don’t. I’m going to soak and then watch some TV.”

“Baby...”
What can I do?

“Finn, go to bed.” I debate whether to try the door handle, but I capitulate to her desire for privacy and walk back to her bedroom.

I lie in bed with my hands clasped beneath my head and stare up at the ceiling, waiting for Becks to come to bed. I hear her cough some more and worry that I should be taking her back to the hospital.

Does she hate me for being a fucking pansy? Why can’t I get past this shit? I want to be her husband so much that each day it’s progressively turning my life upside down, inside out and into an endless tailspin. It’s all I think about anymore. Why wasn’t her three-week break from me enough to wake me up to the truth that I will lose Becks if I don’t put a ring on her finger? Not just an engagement ring. The real deal
.

A
wedding band.

I take steadying breaths to calm my pounding heart
, needing to quit freaking out every time I think about actually getting married. It’s what I want, yet it’s not. I want to give her my name and call her my wife. I’ve never proposed to a woman before, the thought never even entering my head until her. I was going to ask her Saturday night because I wanted to. Nevertheless, that’s where my courage ends. I can propose, but to say eternal vows to her before God, a priest, and our family and friends? I don’t know if I can do it. I’m afraid it will be the start of the ticking clock counting down to the end of us.

At dinner,
Morgan had mentioned Becks wants to get married in a hot air balloon. That’s actually shocking to me. I never thought she would be daring like that. I mean, it’s not an incredible feat to go up to those heights for me, but I didn’t think she would want to do something like that. If she wants to go up in one of those, I’ll take her, but I’ll leave the minister on the ground.

I hear the bathroom door open and I watch Becks slowly walk into the room. The moonlight isn’t as bright, but I still
am able to see her hair swung over a shoulder and her arms folded over her stomach. I also see that’s she’s thinner than she was a couple weeks ago. I first noticed when I was kissing her stomach. Is she working out too much? Has she been so stressed that she’s not eating, either? I haven’t been eating much since we haven’t been together, but I grab a bite here and there so I don’t have dry heaves on camera. Saturday, she didn’t eat much of her dinner and I doubt she ate tonight after I left to go to work.

She gets in
to bed and curls into a fetal position with her back to me.

Turning my head to her, I worriedly ask,
“How are you feeling?” I hope she realizes I’m asking how she feels about her boyfriend being a gigantic prick.

Becks quietly replies, “Okay.” She’s lying to me. I reach over and touch her back, but she doesn’t move or say anything.
How can she be so shocked by my reasoning? I thought this is why she took the time away from me, to accept my shortcomings and to comprehend that I am, in fact, a waffling asshole.

Dropping my hand and s
ighing, I get out of bed and go to my drawer in Becks’ dresser. I grab some clothes, my small overnight bag and take my turn in the bathroom.

Having hurried with my shower, I
come back to bed and hear her steady breaths. She’s asleep. I deftly move closer, spooning her and carefully weaving our legs together. Lightly running my hand up her hip, I feel how she’s definitely lost weight. I don’t know why she thinks she needs to lose any. I don’t want to hug a damn rail. I love her soft curves. Becks is already perfect to me. My cock doesn’t get hard for just any woman. Since I first laid eyes on her, it’s only been Hadley.

Moving my mouth to her ear, I softly whisper,
“Becks.” When she doesn’t respond, I say, “Baby, please forgive me for not being the man you need. I’m trying. I’m getting closer, but I’m not there yet. I want to be the one to give you everything you want. It would undoubtedly kill me if you found someone else to give them to you. When I’m ready, I want us to get married. I love you to the stars, Becks Wilder.”

As usual with my nighttime conversations with her, she doesn’t answer back, unless it’s with a humming sound, but she doesn’t do that either now. I kiss her neck and lay my head down next to hers, being lulled to sleep by the
peaceful cadence of her breathing.

Soft laughing wakes me. Looking over to Becks’ side, I see she’s not there
. I squint at the clock as I reach for my glasses, and getting up, I walk out to the hallway to see her sitting against the arm of the couch with her back to me, talking on the phone. Her arm is tucked beneath her bent legs and her hair is wavy down her back. She looks sexy as fuck still in her underwear and the T-shirt she slept in.

“No, you’re not that great of a hitter
, Rod.”
Figures she’s talking to that jackass
. “I was just slow on the uptake.”
She was definitely daydreaming about something.

“Right. That’s what I was thinking about.”
I can only imagine what the douche said.

“He’s asleep. We were up late.”

“I knew you would say that.”

“Why would I tell you if we did?”
Tell him! I want him to know exactly what we were doing.

“You wish I told you everything. I do keep things to myself.”
Apparently, not from Morgan.

“Yes, he took good care of me.”
Of course I did.

“Yes with my clothes on.”
Fucker.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just sore from one of my coworker’s ideas of a sick joke.”
He’d never do that on purpose. I’d kill him with my bare hands.

“I’m kidding. I know you are. Why are you so mad at yourself?”

“No, just bruises. I couldn’t have died. It was my stomach, not my chest.”
Why is she not taking this seriously?

“Rod, I’m not. They asked me that several times. Don’t you remember me announcing my period?”
Why is he asking if she’s pregnant? Does he think it’s his?
Right.
If she had been and she miscarried our kid because of him, I would’ve picked up a softball bat and gave his balls a line drive, making damn sure he never procreates.

She looks down at her legs
and lowers her voice. “I doubt he would’ve.”
Wait
.
What did I not do?

“I’m serious. He probably would’ve thanked you.”

Is she really suggesting that I would’ve been
happy
if she had been knocked up and our baby was
killed
?
Did she honestly get that impression from me? Why did she think I put her in the outfield when I thought she was pregnant? I didn’t want anything to happen to her
or
our child. I’m not fucking heartless. I was royally pissed when she suggested an abortion. There’s no way I’d allow her to do that to a life we made together. I would love our kid. I’m just not ready for one. Yet, I can’t seem to stop myself from having sex with my girlfriend without a rubber, thus possibly making one with her. What the hell is wrong with me? I know it’s a huge gamble, but when I’m with her, I lose almost every last bit of rational thought.

“No, you’re right. I should give him the benefit of the doubt. He is very loving. I think he’d be a wonderful daddy.”
I would? She has that much faith in me? And Rodwell is actually taking up my defense? Did Hell freeze over?

“I’m
not
crying. I need to go.” I stealthily turn and slip into the bathroom. While I’m in there, I pick up my toothbrush and brush my teeth.

When I emerge, Becks is still sitting in the same position on the couch watching TV.
I walk into the living room and she looks up, her eyes becoming huge and obviously wandering over me as I walk over to sit down next to her.
What did I do?

“What? Are you feeling okay?” She’s still
weirdly staring at me. When I thought she’d be mad and ignore me, she instead throws me for a loop.

Her eyelids flutter downward and she slightly shakes her head, looking at her fingers splayed on her raised thighs. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bowing my head over the floor, I absently grasp my wrist and sigh. “Becks, about what I said last night—both things. I shouldn’t have told you either.”

“Finn, I’m glad you did. You said you wanted us to be honest with each other, and you were. What you said shocked me. That was a soulful admission to make. I realize you completely bared your soul to me and I’m grateful that you told me the truth.”

“The
whole
truth?”

She halfheartedly says,
“Yeah.”

“Baby, I wish I can tell you I’m ready right now, this second. I could lie and say I am, but then that would get your hopes up and I’ve already been a massive enough prick to you.”

A rueful smile approaches her lips as she silently agrees with me. “At least you’re still thinking about it?”

“Yeah, I am. Every day.”
Since falling to the ground and in love with you in the park, I’ve been thinking about it with my every breath, Becks.

Her feet
propped next to me on the cushion, I reach down and massage the top of her foot, hearing her palpable anxiety with her deep breath. I say, “I’m not intentionally trying to hurt you. I swear to everything holy I’m not. You’re the last person on Earth I want to hurt, but that’s all I seem to do.”

“I’ll make sure you make up for it.”

“And I’ll make sure you make me,” I joke, but find myself getting even more turned on.

Out of the blue, she asks, “
Aren’t you going to Mass?”

“No. I want to stay with you.”

“Finn, we can go together.”

“It’s okay.” Most likely, she’d be uncomfortable sitting, standing and kneeling so much.

Her eyes fall to my legs and as she idly stares, she numbly asks, “Do you work today?”