Star-Crossed (30 page)

* * * *

Jules left early for work, but Wyatt had the morning to goof off. He headed to the Cellar to work out, but stopped in his tracks when he spotted Romeo’s Ferrari parked next to Clay’s SUV. They were back to training this morning as if nothing had happened, and it pissed Wyatt off. One of the perks of owning his own gym was
using
it
.

To say nothing of Clay working out with the man who’d just broken Jules’s heart and thrown a championship fight. The list of reasons why Wellings was bad news was endless, but Clay had always operated on his own terms, and Wyatt wasn’t even surprised to find the two of them back to training—angry as hell, but not surprised.

Deciding he and Clay were certainly going to have words later, Wyatt turned around in the parking lot. He’d get his workout in later by kicking the living shit out of his traitor of a best friend.

Instead Wyatt grabbed an early breakfast at Hal’s and headed home to find something to do until two, since he was working the late shift. Without the Cellar or the

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sheriff’s office to keep him busy, Wyatt quickly found himself bored and ended up reading the same book he’d read a thousand times before. Most of the pages were earmarked and worn. The binding was just about shot. He probably needed to buy another copy, but there was something about the first-edition hardback that made him feel better about life in general. It was like reaching out and touching the past, and he needed it desperately after the week he was having.

Lost in the story, Wyatt was jolted back to reality when the home phone rang, and he tossed his book aside, dashing into the kitchen to catch it before the caller hung up.

Everyone called their cell phone these days. It was probably just a solicitation call, but Wyatt still wanted to see who it was.

“Hello?” he asked, turning to walk with the portable back into the living room.

“Morning, Sheriff. Jules there?”

“Nah, it’s ten o’clock. She’s long gone.” Wyatt picked up his book, checking to make sure he hadn’t injured it. He placed a bookmark between the pages he was on and then set it on the coffee table. “Can I help ya?”

“It’s Dr. Philips.”

“Oh hey, Doc.” Wyatt sat up straighter, his heart doing a little flip in his chest.

“Everything okay?”

“I called her office, but the machine picked up. I was hoping to catch her this morning. It’s important. ”

“They miss calls all the time when they’re packed with clients. Ya know it’s her busy season,” Wyatt said, his shoulders tense with the anxiety. “Why the rush?

Something up with her tests?”

“I left a message there, but if you could get her to call me, I’d—”

“What’s going on?” Wyatt cut him off. “There’s something wrong. Tell me what it is.”

“I just need to talk to Jules.”

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“I have her medical power of attorney.” Wyatt refused to be intimidated by the doctor just because he’d been treating them since they were kids. “You tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“Wyatt, it’s not my place—”

“Is it cancer?” he whispered the words in horror. This whole thing with Wellings had Wyatt feeling like some horrible self-fulfilling prophecy was about to descend on them. “They told her she’s got a higher risk ’cause of—”

“It’s not cancer.”

“What is it?” The fear made Wyatt’s voice raspy. “Just tell me ’cause—”

“It’s nothing like that.” Dr. Philips was trying to pacify him, but there was an unmistakable string of concern in his voice. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you.”

“If ya’d tell me, I wouldn’t have to use my imagination!” Dr. Philips huffed. The silence between them was deafening before he finally asked, “Is Jules seeing anyone? Does she got a fella?” Wyatt was thrown by the off-topic question before something horrible dawned on him, and his eyes narrowed. A completely different type of fear surged through his bloodstream, and he finally managed to choke out, “Why?”

“I just hadn’t heard she was dating anyone.” Dr. Philips sounded mystified. “Ya think we’d have heard if she was. Is she serious ’bout him?”

“I didn’t say she was dating anyone,” Wyatt reminded the doctor before he asked,

“Is Jules pregnant?”

“Just have her call me.” Dr. Philips cleared his throat and then said, “I got patients.”

After Wyatt hung up with the doctor, he sat there on the couch for about two seconds before he dashed upstairs, going to Jules’s private bathroom. Usually it was a forbidden zone, a place filled with things Wyatt didn’t want to think about, let alone

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encounter. He searched underneath the sink, pushed aside tampons, maxi pads, and a sea of beauty products and came up with nothing. So he opened the drawer next, finding it right there in front—a package of pregnancy tests.

Hands shaking, Wyatt opened the box, finding two of the three tests missing. If she was taking tests, she’d had a scare. The possibility had been there at some point, but she obviously didn’t know she was pregnant or she would’ve gone to the doctor long before Wyatt started noticing something.

He tilted the box to the side and found the expiration date, seeing they were expired. Wyatt shook his head, knowing Jules had driven twenty miles to some pissant convenience store to buy the tests rather than have someone at Maple’s One Stop Shop asking questions. This box had probably been on a shelf for five years before Jules bought it, because those places couldn’t afford to throw out nonperishable items.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, trying to absorb the gravity of the situation.

He was numb right now, but fury was quickly making its way past the haze and he decided to capitalize on the moment. First, he put the test back where he found it; then he ran back downstairs. He picked up the portable phone and called the doctor back.

“Dr. Philips’s office.”

“Sara, it’s the sheriff. Put the doc on the phone.”

“Sorry, Sheriff, he’s with a pat—”

“
Put the doc on the phone,
” Wyatt said more firmly. “Now!”

“Okay,” she said quickly. “I’ll get him now.”

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair while he waited. He tapped his foot. His muscles bunched like they did right before a fight. The rage was moving faster and more efficiently than Wyatt planned.

Dr. Philips came back to the phone after only a few minutes. “Wyatt, I told you—” 244

“Listen to me, Doc.” Wyatt used his sheriff’s voice. “Jules’s life is in the shit house right now. You tell her she’s pregnant, and she’s gonna have a serious moment. I don’t think that’s all that great for her health, do you?”

“That girl’s got to go to the doctor. Her hormone levels are sky-high, and with her history she’s high risk. You don’t wanna repeat of what happened with your mama.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Wyatt barked. “You think I’m not standing here shaking just thinking ’bout it?”

“Then get her to the doctor!”

“She’s already got an appointment in Mercy.” Wyatt took a deep breath, searching for sanity. “She ain’t a drinker or a smoker. The only medicine she takes is a multivitamin. Let her calm down for a few days; then I’ll tell her personally.”

“I dunno—”

“I just don’t want anything bad to happen.” Wyatt took another deep breath, making him feel like he was hyperventilating rather than relaxing himself. “I know my sister, okay? If shock or heartbreak or something makes her lose this baby, it’ll kill her, and my mama had four miscarriages before she got pregnant with us, so don’t tell me it can’t happen. Let Jules get her shit together and calm down. Gimme a few days to prepare her.”

“Well, what the heck am I supposed to tell her when she calls back?” the doctor asked in defeat.

“Tell her the truth, that her hormones are out of whack. Tell her to call the lady doctor and—”

“Ob-gyn.”

“Whatever,” Wyatt said impatiently. “Tell her to try and move up her appointment. Give her a damn note. Call ’em personally if ya have to. Just give me a few days to break it to her lightly.”

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“Fine.” Dr Philips sighed, sounding largely unconvinced. “But I wouldn’t wait longer than a few days.”

“I won’t,” he said solemnly. “I promise.”

“And make sure she’s eating well. No taking any medicines for headaches or allergies.”

“I will.”

“And no drinking.”

“She ain’t had a glass since we went to Vegas with Clay.” Wyatt pulled a face at the reminder of the championship fight in Las Vegas. “I got to go, Doc. I got things to take care of.”

Dr. Philips was reluctant to hang up. He kept spouting off instructions, but Wyatt was officially at his limit. Reality and anger collided inside him, making him fully comprehend that his sister was going to have a baby—alone.

And it was Romeo Wellings’s fault.

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