Chapter Eleven – Angela
Chapter Eleven
Angela
The next morning, Willa and Gray returned. He was happy—with her—and with me. He wanted to see the tattoos himself and I could tell he was pleased. The second after he kissed us both and went into the shower, I pounced Willa for information.
“Tell me everything. Now.”
“We went out to the middle of a forest. There’s all this land, and trees—it’s not desert anymore over there.”
“You went camping?” Suddenly the Farm seemed less sexy.
“No—there’s a huge house in the center. We went inside, and he showed me around, and then we started making out—"
“Yeah?”
“And then we got high.”
I double-blinked. “What?”
“Sometimes high sex is fun, Angie.”
“No, I know, keep going—"
She gave a tiny shrug and a quirky smile.
“And then we smoked out and fucked. All night. Like—he was hard like you wouldn’t believe.
He couldn’t keep it out of me—he’d come, and then he’d hold me and we’d talk and then we’d fuck and he’d come again—he like never pulled out.
And I lost track of how many times I came. ”
“Wow,” I said.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“Do you feel, uh….” I started, waving at her body.
“Oh my gosh, it’s only been like twelve hours, silly,” she said with an eye roll. “I am tired though. Nap with me?”
I’d been up late too. “Sure,” I said, spooning her loosely.
Willa was pregnant. Whether it was that night or some other—within a week she was bent over the toilet each morning.
The other girls fawned on her, Nikki and Jamie and everyone else, offering advice, and they all seemed to know better than I did.
Willa was right, the few women of the Pack did all seem to be moms.
And Gray changed, too. When he fucked us, he did so cautiously.
Like Willa—and I—might break. If I were born a gentler person—or if I’d been initiated into sex any other way—I might have liked that, but as it was, his kindness felt misplaced.
Especially because when he wasn’t in our bed, he was distant—the transition between the two, attentive lover and distracted father-to-be was jarring.
“He just doesn’t know what to do,” Willa said, making excuses for him again. Her arm was around me and I was nestled up against her shoulder. Her stomach had started to swell and I thought her breasts were getting larger. “He’ll come around.”
I laced my fingers through hers. “He’d better.”
Willa started having contractions on the day of the Farm trip five months later. I could feel them rippling across her stomach, as she grit her teeth with each forceful squeeze.
“Hang on,” I told her, grabbing my purse, helping her for the door. The car was out back, there was a hospital nearby—why hadn’t we gone in to get her care sooner? I knew we were poor, but we weren’t dumbfucks—
Gray blocked the back door. “You can’t,” he said, with a head shake.
“Why not?” I asked, as Willa tensed beside me.
“Because she’ll be fine.” He leaned down and picked her up, carrying her back to our bedroom as I chased behind.
“This isn’t like you rolling in with some gunshot, Gray! There’s another life at stake!” I shouted, as he set her back in bed.
“I know that, all right? But you just have to trust me. She doesn’t need a doctor.”
“She does!”
Torn between the two of us, what could Willa do?
“I’m gonna be okay. They’re small—they’re getting better—I read online this happens sometimes—"
“See?” Gray said.
“No, I don’t—" I said, but he was already walking out the bedroom door.
I followed him out into the bar, where the Pack was getting ready to depart.
“I have Pack business, Angela,” Gray said, knowing I was on his heels.
“What business do you have that could possibly be more important than her safety?”
The room went quiet as Gray turned—and hit me. Open handed, I could feel the weight from cheek to jaw. Then he pointed over my shoulder to Wade. “Don’t let them go,” he said, then turned. The bar emptied out behind him while I stood there, stunned, one hand coming up to trace my pain.
I ran back to the bedroom and dove into bed with Willa as Wade called out my name.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, holding her arms out to me. I instinctively crawled into them.
“Gray hit me,” I said, still startled by the truth of it.
Willa knew all about being hit by men. “Oh my God, really?” Willa said, touching my hot cheek with her hand.
“Yeah,” I said, lips quivering, about to cry. It felt like everything we’d had here for the past year was starting to crumble. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. They’ve stopped. I’m better now. Are you okay?”
The shock of getting hit was fading, replaced by anger at the affront of it. “I don’t know,” I answered, truthfully.
“I’m so sorry, Angie. If I’d known how this was going to divide us, I never would’ve done it,” she said, putting her hand atop her stomach.
I sobbed into her shoulder, but met her hand with my own. “It isn’t the baby’s fault. And even if it’s half his, it’s still half yours.”
Her fingers laced with mine and squeezed. “The good half.”