SEAL's Baby (Navy SEAL Secret Baby Romance) (42 page)

I pushed up to a sitting position. “Fine,
I’ll leave.”

He sighed. “Come on, Amber. I had a little
too much to drink and you pissed me off. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Come
here, baby…” he reached for me, but I pushed back into the corner. “What the
fuck is wrong with you?”

I laughed like a crazy person. “Oh, I
don’t know, Dylan. It just dawned on me that I live with an abusive piece of
shit who has an excuse for everything he does. A man who says he loves me, but
the fact that I’m naked on the bathroom floor because I have a head injury
that’s making me vomit begs to differ. I’m sick and tired of living like this.
I want out.”

He ran his hand through his hair. It was
thick and black, and he needed a haircut desperately. His face was also covered
with three or four days’ worth of black stubble. His eyes were all bloodshot
and his teeth were stained…he looked like shit. “Nine years, Amber – almost
ten. We’ve been together for nine years. Are you just going to throw that
away?”

“Dylan, can’t you see that there is
nothing left here to throw away? You’re hardly ever here, and when you are,
you’re drunk and mean as a snake. That’s no way to live. I hate my life. I want
this to be over.”

“Amber-”

“No!” I grabbed hold of the counter and
struggled to my feet. He tried to help me, but I shook him off. “No. I’m
leaving, Dylan.”

That cocky look returned and he snorted.
“You’ll be back.”

“No…not this time.” I’d left him twice
before. Both times I made the mistake of letting him woo me back. Marlene told
me if I left him this time, she’d take me in –
 
but that if I went back to him, then that would be it.

“You’re fat and bitchy, and you can’t even
carry a baby to term…” I slapped him, hard. He grabbed my arms and shoved me
back into the wall. “Do not ever put your hands on me again.”

“You’re hurting my wrists,” I pleaded.

“Good,” he said as he let me go. I nearly
fell to the ground, but caught myself. “You’re worthless. Get the fuck out of
here.”

I got dressed and all I took with me was
my purse and clean scrubs for work the next day. Dylan glared at me the whole
time. When I got in my car and up the street, I pulled over and cried. I had to
get it out of my system. When I finally stopped shaking and pulled myself
together, I drove to my sister’s house. She opened the door and said, “I’m
calling the cops.”

“Oh, Marlene, it’s early and I’m
exhausted. Please don’t call the police. It’s going to scare Nona to have them
here and think about your custody case if Jim gets wind of this.”

“So this piece of shit gets away with
abusing you?”

“He didn’t lay a hand on me…” I saw her
looking at my wrists then. “He grabbed my arms because I hit him. I fell and
hit my head on the sink. Please, Marlene, I just want to lie down.”

She took my bag and led me to the guest
room. She sat the bag down and said, “Are you going to work?”

“No, I already called off. I just need to
sleep.”

She hugged me and there were tears in her
eyes. “Please don’t go back.”

“I won’t.” I crawled into the bed as she
turned off the light. A few minutes later, she brought me a pain pill. I didn’t
even ask what it was. I took it, closed my eyes, and slipped off into a dream.

It was about Kyle.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

KYLE

I woke up Wednesday morning aching to see
Amber. I got up out of bed and instead of just sitting down in the wheelchair;
I pushed it out into the living room. I could see Dad in the kitchen making
breakfast. “Hey, Dad.”

He turned around and looked at me. What
passed as a happy smile for my dad was a mildly amused one for others, but I
knew the difference. “Well, look at you.”

I grinned. I was proud of myself. “Yep,
I’ll be ready for that 5K by next week.”

He smiled again and said, “Don’t over-do
it.”

“I won’t.” I looked at the clock and
realized it was after seven. “Hey, why are you still here?” He usually left for
work at six-thirty.

He made a face and said, “Come and sit
down for a minute.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what I had to sit down for,
but I did as he asked. He poured me a cup of coffee and sat it in front of me.
Then he sat down with his and said, “Your mother called last night.”

I felt the stirrings of old anger in my
belly every time anyone mentioned her. “What did she want?”

“She ran into Michael the other day and I
guess he mentioned you being sick…”

“Shit.”

“Ah, you know how Michael is. He just
wasn’t thinking. Anyways, she’s still in town. She leaves this afternoon and
she’d like to see you.”

“No.”

“Kyle, you know that I’ve always left that
choice to you and your sister. You have a right to be angry with her. But I
just want you to be sure. Your illness is just proof that we never know what’s
going to happen from one day to the next.”

I’ve never told anyone, but my biggest
argument with having anything to do with my mother is that I’ll forget how
angry I am with her. She deserves my anger and Sarah’s, and even twenty-six
years later, I hate the thought of letting her off the hook. “Are the kids with
her?” I noticed that when I’m tired or stressed it gets even harder for me to
form my words. I wondered if she’d even be able to understand me.

“I reckon.”

“Will you be here?”

He looked at his watch. “I can be.”

I’m
twenty-seven years old. I can do this on my own.
“No,
Dad, go to work.”

“I don’t mind, son.”

“I know you don’t, Dad. That’s good
enough. Go to work.”

He nodded. He had to be worn out from all
of that talking. I laughed to myself at that. “What?” he said.

“Nothing. I love you, Dad.”

He looked uncomfortable, but God bless
him, he said, “I love you, too, son.”

*******

My mother and my thirteen- and
fourteen-year-old step-siblings Brenda and Reece showed up about an hour after
my dad left. As soon as I opened the door, she threw herself into me and began
to cry.
So fucking dramatic
. I looked
over her shoulder at Brenda and Reece, they looked embarrassed. “Mom…can’t
breathe.”

She stood up and wiped at her face with
the back of her hand. “I’m sorry. Oh, Kyle, I’m so sorry.” I rolled back from
the door and said,

“Come in…I’m…not dying.” They followed me
in, and I looked at the kids who I hadn’t seen in at least four years. “You
guys got…big.”

Brenda smiled, and Reece rolled his eyes.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Brenda said shyly.

I smiled at her. “Me, too. Sit.”

My mother sat down on the couch and
reached for my hand. I wanted to pull away, but I kept my father’s words in my
head and I let her take it. “How are you?” she said.

“I’m okay. I’m doing therapy.”

“And they’re sure it wasn’t cancer?”

“Yes.”

“They got it all?”

“Yes.”

“Do they know what caused it?”

“No.”

“Kyle, I’m just so glad you’re okay. Are
you alright here with your father? Do you need anything?”

I raised an eyebrow. I mustered all of my
strength and from the time I opened my mouth until the time I finished the
snide sentence, fifteen minutes passed. “I’ve…been…okay with my father for
twenty…six….years.” Her face looked like I slapped her and I felt instantly
guilty, but why should I? What kind of woman abandons her kids?

She looked over at Reece and Brenda and
said, “Would you two mind waiting outside for a minute?” Brenda looked like she
was ready to cry, and Reese rolled his eyes again.

“Come on, the same old soap opera is on in
here,” he said as he looked at his sister.

“Bye, Kyle,” Brenda said. She’s sweet and
she’s my little sister and I should feel something more for her than I do, but
I don’t. I wonder if that makes me a bad person.

“Bye, Brenda. Bye, Reece.” Reece didn’t
acknowledge me. I didn’t hold it against him. I remember what it was like to be
fourteen.

When they were gone my mother said,
“You’ve said it yourself, Kyle – it’s been twenty-six years. I was twenty-one
years old. The difference between twenty-one and forty-seven is a whole world.
I’m not that selfish, scared young girl any longer and I wish that some day
before I die that you and your sister will realize that. I’ve lived in my own
personal hell all of these years for what I did to you both. If there was
anything I could do to make it up to you, I would.”

“There’s not.”

She was blinking back tears again. I’ve
seen them more times than I can count. They don’t mean anything coming from
her. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“Will you call me if you need anything?”

“Probably not.” She stood up and picked up
her purse. She looked like she was going to say something else, but she changed
her mind and headed for the door. Before she got there it was pushed open and
Greg framed the doorway. Another person I really don’t want to see.

“Hey there, Miss… What’s your name now?”

“Brown,” my mother said with a sniffle.
“Hello, Greg.” Mom and Greg had met on two of her other guilt visits. She
turned to look at me one last time before she left.

When she was gone Greg said, “If you’re in
a forgiving mood-”

“I’m not,” I interrupted. “Are you ready
to go?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

*******

I tried to get back the mood I was in when
I woke up this morning, but my mother and my former best friend had both ruined
it. Hopefully, seeing Amber would do it for me. Greg parked the car in front of
the clinic, so I pushed the chair inside. The lady that was at the counter a
lot saw me come in and said, “Well, look at you after only two weeks. I’m
impressed.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’ll let Amber know you’re here.”

“Thanks.” Just the sound of her name sent
little jolts through my body. I’d barely sat down when she called for me. I got
behind the chair again and pushed it over to the door. I was already smiling –
until I saw her face. “Amber…your face?”

She smiled and then winced. Her forehead
was bruised and had a spot that she’d tried to cover with make-up and her hair,
and her right eye was black. “I slipped in the bathroom,” she said. “Come on
back. It looks like you’re ready for the parallel bars.”

I followed her back, but I couldn’t stop
thinking about that gash on her head. “Amber,” she turned to face me and I put
my hand out and gently touched her forehead. She closed her eyes for just a
second before she pulled back. “Are you sure?”

“Am I sure what, Kyle?”

“You’re okay?”

She nodded. “Let’s get to work,” she said.
We started with the basic leg exercises and then we switched it up and did some
speech therapy. As the session went on, both of our moods got lighter. After
the speech therapy, we went to the parallel bars. She had me practice lifting
my right leg and making it move with the left. I had to concentrate hard on it
and even then it would only scrape along the floor about an inch at a time. It
felt heavier than the other leg.

“Not as easy as it looks,” I told her. It
was about five feet from start to finish. I’d taken three steps and I still had
about four and a half feet to go. She smiled. Even bruised up, she was
gorgeous.

“No, it’s not, but you’re doing great. I
don’t expect you to do the whole length today.”

“I bet I could do it with a little more
incentive,” I said, feeling brave all of a sudden. Before I got sick I was kind
of a cocky S.O.B. I never had any trouble asking a woman out. I’d always assumed
she would say yes. But brain surgery and recovery can definitely hurt a guy’s
confidence.

“Incentive? Like a candy bar if you make
it to the end?”

“I don’t eat candy.”

“Oh, well what then?”

I took another step. “Dinner?”

“You want me to buy you dinner?” I laughed
and took another step. My fucking leg felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

“No…I’ll buy…you just eat…with me.”

“Oh, like a date?”

Another step, I was almost halfway there.
“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t date my patients.” She
was killing me. I took another step.

“Okay…no date. Just…celebration.” I was
sweating as I took my next step.

“Where would this ‘celebration’ take
place?”

“Abacus?”

She laughed. I took another step and
estimated I had about five more to go. “Abacus is kind of expensive for a
celebration. It’s more of a date place.”

“Oh…McDonalds?”

She laughed again. “Okay, tell you what.
You pick up that foot on each one of the next four or five steps to the end and
Abacus it is.”