18. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
S ummer didn’t want to be there anymore. The need to get off the table itched under her skin, but that would just mess everything up. The person with the machine had already carefully tucked paper towels into her clothes. Their voice was pleasant but kept fading into static in her head.
Ramiro was next to her. He took up so much of the air in the room. That was for the best. She couldn’t hyperventilate if she couldn’t breathe.
Warm gel was squeezed onto her flat stomach. She’d expected it to be cold. She decided not to stare down at what they were doing, kind of like with needles. If she didn’t see what was about to happen, there was nothing to worry about.
The black and fuzzy screen made it easier for her eyes to lose focus.
Summer pulled in a breath slowly. It felt wrong, those slow breaths, when her heart sped in her chest .
Then the thrumming sound started. It hovered in the air, so fast, too fast. Even faster than her heartbeats.
“Oh, you’re lucky!” the sonographer said. “Do you hear it?”
“What is that?” Ramiro asked.
“The baby’s heartbeat. Don’t worry. It’s supposed to be fast like that. It also means you’re definitely more than a month out. Let me just measure…”
More than a month? Summer had suspected as much, but the idea of it was still hard to wrap her head around.
The thrumming in her ears slowed her own heartbeat, as if her heart knew it couldn’t compete with the speed of the baby’s.
The thing growing inside her had a heartbeat. That meant it was alive.
Her eyes focused on the screen. The image didn’t look like much, but she followed the lines that the sonographer created. That blob was a baby. It was her baby. And it had a heartbeat.
Did it also have thoughts? Was it dreaming inside of her? Dreaming of a life?
Her eyes burned. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“These lines are to help me measure it,” the sonographer explained, still staring at the screen. “I can give you a printout without them if you’d like.”
Summer couldn’t respond. If she tried to talk, they’d realize she was crying.
Ramiro leaned over the chair, wrapping her hand in his. His touch was as warm as it was before. She felt so cold in comparison.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, squeezing lightly.
The sonographer looked at her, her face softening. “A lot of new mothers cry when they hear the heartbeat.”
She probably thought Summer was overcome with love for her baby. It was the opposite. She resented the thing growing inside of her.
No. It was a person, not a thing. The heartbeat and the shape of it pushed that reality into her mind. The baby could have a life, a life that would almost certainly be more important than her own.
Listening to the heartbeat, she could no longer picture getting rid of it, and that made her angry and terrified and bitter.
She blinked back the tears and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the ticking timeline of what was to come.
Would Ramiro stick with her through the whole pregnancy? She was already an emotional wreck, and she’d seen the way he’d looked at the women with stretched out stomachs. Not in horror, not exactly, but the sight of them had made him nervous.
She listened to the heartbeat, knowing it was marking out the time she had left with Ramiro. She was going to lose him. It was only a matter of time.
The worry wasn’t a new one. She’d always known that her time with him would be limited.
She stared back at the screen. She would be able to blame that little blob instead of herself. In a way, that felt better after all.
S ummer was quiet on the ride home, and then throughout the afternoon. Quiet, but not still. The bowl ended up back on the kitchen counter even after she’d picked it up a dozen times. Each of her belongings, the ones that weren’t too heavy, anyway, was lifted and moved more than once. All but the fuzzy blue blanket on the back of the couch.
When she didn’t respond to any of his nudges to talk, Ramiro left her alone. He couldn’t keep his mind on the most recent intel Hayes had pulled on the cartel. He kept hearing that thrumming heartbeat from the doctor’s office. It pulsed through him, not letting him relax.
Watching the monitor and seeing the link to her stomach had made it impossible to ignore the obvious. The baby growing inside of her was part of Summer. The father didn’t matter. That it was Summer’s did.
The thrumming hadn’t even really sounded like a heartbeat. So why couldn’t he get it out of his head?
He’d seen her face in the office. She’d come to a decision, and he was pretty sure he knew what that decision was. Summer had a giving heart. She’d never put her own needs first.
She hadn’t been able to all those years ago. That was how she’d ended up on that bridge. It couldn’t come to that again.
Ramiro gave up on working. There needed to be another hit on the cartel since they weren’t spread as thin as he wanted, but he’d figure that out later. Summer needed him right now .
She’d moved the blanket, after all. The blue was wrapped around her, her legs curled underneath her body while she clutched that same throw pillow he’d seen her clutch so many times over the years. It was the pillow she cried into the most.
She wasn’t crying now. She stared blankly at a point on the wall.
The couch sank under Ramiro’s weight when he sat beside her. He didn’t try to coax her into his arms, he just pulled her there, knowing that’s what they both needed.
His mind drifted back to the ultrasound picture. Summer hadn’t reached for it, so he had, and when he’d gotten home, he’d put the image on his desk and stared at the blob.
Holding Summer felt right. He wondered how it would feel when her stomach bulged out.
“It’s the size of a raspberry right now,” he said, pulling her in tighter.
Summer made a small sound, burrowing against his button-down shirt. Her fingers fiddled with the pocket.
“The picture looked bigger than that,” she said, her voice husky, but she still wasn’t crying.
Silence stretched between them for a long minute. He rubbed his chin over the top of her head. “It’s okay. Go ahead. Say it.”
“I—” She stiffened in his arms, her fingers curling over the pocket as tight as they could. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” he told her. “Those aren’t the words you need to say. Tell me what you’re thinking. ”
Her breath shuddered against his chest. “I’m not going to have an abortion.” A sob followed the words.
He rocked her in his arms as she cried. Huge gulping wails of sounds that tore his heart in two. They were much louder than the thrumming still in his head.
Ramiro held her through the storm. He murmured words she wouldn’t be able to hear. Pointless words like “it’s okay” and “let it out” and “I’m here,” as if his presence made things easier on her.
He was only making it harder.
When she’d quieted down to hiccups and then sniffles and eventually silence again, he continued to hold her.
“I’m here,” he told her again. He wasn’t sure what else he could say. Telling her he looked forward to her having a baby would be a lie. Lying never worked. Summer knew him too well. She’d only lose trust in him.
“I’m not going to get an abortion,” she repeated, “but I’m not going to keep the baby, either. I’m going to look into putting it up for adoption.”
He hated that his initial reaction was relief. “Are you sure?”
Her fingers loosened, smoothing the material of his shirt she’d been tugging on, or at least trying to. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “It’ll be better.”
The relief drifted away like smoke, the memory of it lingering, but frustration replacing it. “Better for you, Summer?” he asked.
She was silent for too long. Then, she murmured, “Yes. ”
He didn’t believe her. “Don’t lie to me.”
She pushed away from his chest. His stomach clenched at her splotchy face and hopeless eyes. “The last couple of days have been a dream. You told me you loved me. You held me as much as I’ve always craved. You took care of me.”
“I won’t—”
Her hand covered his mouth. “Being with you is all I ever wanted. I never wanted to have a baby.”
He pushed her hand away gently. “Because I don’t want one?”
“I—” Her eyes slid away. “It’s complicated.”
“I need more than that. This can’t be about me.”
“Why?” she asked, her lips tightening as her eyes narrowed. “You’re all I’ve lived for. Ever since that bridge. I was going to kill myself. You were the one to stop me. So why is it wrong for me to want to live for you?”
Her voice rose as she said it, nearly shouting the last word, her eyes fierce. They held so much emotion, totally different from the way Ramiro’s mother used to look. Even while his mother was clinging to his father, she had dead eyes. She’d been dull and lifeless. Instead of living for his father, it was as if she didn’t live at all, dead long before his father had killed her.
“I love you,” Summer said, certain and filled with emotion. Filled with love. For him.
His breathing hitched. He swallowed, trying to keep his hands from shaking. Had anyone before her said they’d loved him? Not just said it, but drilled him with the words, trying to make him believe them.
“I love you, too, baby girl.” His voice was choked and soft. “So much. You don’t owe me anything. I want you in my life. I should have pushed you away long ago, the moment you started to heal. Instead, I made sure you’d depend on me more and more. Nothing you do will take you from me. If you tried to leave, I’d hunt you down and drag you back. You’re never getting rid of me, Summer. Never.”
Her eyes were shimmering again. How could such a slight body hold so many tears? How would it support a baby?
The thought had a different worry simmering inside of him, but he pushed it away. Women had been having babies forever. She’d be fine.
“If you keep this baby, you won’t lose me,” he told her. “I can promise you that.”
She blinked back the tears, staring down at her hands pressed against his chest. “I’m not going to keep it,” she mumbled.
He recognized that look on her face. It was one he never wanted to see, yet saw too often. “Why?” he pushed.
She tried to pull away, to avoid saying out loud the things tearing her up inside. His hands kept her on his lap despite her struggle.
“Why?” he asked.
She squeezed her eyes shut, the tears streaking down her cheeks again. “It’s better for the baby.”
“Because I’ll be a shit father? ”
“No!” Her eyes popped open, and she glared at him. “It’s not you! You might not want children, but you’d be a great father.”
Ramiro’s throat closed. He couldn’t tell her how wrong she was.
Her expression softened as she slumped on his lap. “You always take care of me. How could you not take care of someone else?”
“You’re different,” Ramiro forced out, the words nearly strangling him.
Summer shook her head. “You take care of everyone. The men who work for you—Diego, who you were so worried about; Naz, who got so hurt—”
“Because I didn’t keep an eye on him like I should have. That kid—”
“See?” She let out the smile he hadn’t seen for days. “You’re just proving my point. You take care of him.”
Seeing the smile settled him a little. Enough to lift an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I was so caring when I fought with him in the office.”
“I knew you two were fighting that time!” Her hand smacked his chest lightly. “There are more examples, though. Hayes would never leave his house if you didn’t make him. Ash… well, I don’t know about Ash. He always seems to be doing just fine.”
Ramiro never liked when Summer focused on Asher Mendez. Ash may know how to blend in, but he was way too attractive for Ramiro’s peace of mind, and Summer wasn’t immune to his flirting.
Of course, she was wrong. Ash was never fine. He just hid his darkness behind his charm.
“Even Sebastian,” Summer continued. “You could have let him figure things out on his own, but you brought him in.”
“He’s an asset, Summer. They all are. They’re useful, that’s all. I wouldn’t keep them around if they weren’t.”
She snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“A child is different,” he said.
“I watched you with Diego’s daughter yesterday. You took such good care of her. You never yelled at her once.”
Ramiro shuddered. “I was terrified the whole time. She’s still so small.” A baby would be even smaller.
“You might not have liked it, but you still did your best.” Summer’s hand stroked his chest. He didn’t think she even realized she was doing it.
“I had no idea what I was doing,” he admitted. “The baby stage will be even worse. They’re so fragile.” He couldn’t picture holding one.
Her smile faded, her hand stilling. “You’re right. Babies are fragile and needy and completely reliant on the people taking care of them. They need someone who would be good at that, at taking care of them.”
Ramiro thought about his own parents. “They might need that, but that’s not how the world works. There are a lot of shitty parents out there.” His eyes focused on the precious woman in front of him. She bit her lip .
“Exactly,” she mumbled. Her hand lifted from him to hover over her stomach. He still hadn’t seen her touch it. “I don’t need to add one more.”
Ramiro’s chest ached as he watched her chin lift.
“This baby would be better off without someone like me taking care of it,” she said.
“Someone like you?” he asked, his breath trapping in his lungs afterward.
“Selfish,” she whispered. “I’m so damn selfish. All I think about is myself.”
“You’re wrong,” he said, frustrated when she was already shaking her head.
“I’m needy, Ramiro. You already know how needy I can be.”
“You never ask for a goddamn thing!” he snapped. His hands gripped her shoulders, wanting to shake her. “I always have to pay attention. I don’t mind, because I like paying attention to you, but you can be hard to figure out sometimes.”
“I know.” Her hands twisted together between them, gripping so hard it must have hurt. “I make things so hard on you. I keep thinking—” She cut off, her eyes squeezing shut.
His fingers curled around her shoulders. “What? What are you thinking?”
“You’re going to get sick of me!” she yelled. Her eyes widened, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.
Ramiro gentled his grip, tugging her against him when she started to cry again .
“Not gonna happen,” he said, his voice thick and rough, but he couldn’t help that.
“It will! I know it will.” Her words were muffled, buried beneath her hands against his chest.
He sighed, kissing her hair. “I want you to ask for the world. I’ll give you every bit of it, as much as I possibly can.”
“No. I can’t.” Her hands turned, clutching at his shirt again.
He knew she believed that. When she had asked for something as a scared teenager, not because she wanted it but because she needed it to survive, her parents had turned against her. Just as she’d always feared they would.
“You know all about shitty parents, Summer.” Ramiro often regretted not killing them.
“They did what they thought was right.”
“They tore you down. They taught you to hate yourself.”
She grew stiff in his arms, a shiver running through her. “I do hate myself.”
It broke his heart that she did.
“I hate the hole inside me that needs more. More love, more attention, more of everything!” She tried to scramble away.
Ramiro caught her but didn’t pull her close. He stared into her face, her nostrils flared, her skin flushed red from her anger. Anger at herself.
“I’m never satisfied either, Summer. I always want more.” He tilted her back, forcing her to meet his eyes. “I always want more of you.”
Her bottom lip trembled. “I’ll never be enough for you. ”
This woman. She would never accept the truth, but he would never stop trying to make her. “You’re more than enough, Summer. You’re everything. I’m the one who’s addicted.” He leaned closer. “You’re never going to get away from me, baby girl.”
She shook her head in denial, but her eyes were wide and dazed.
He swallowed, his needs simmering. He would scare her if he pounced on her like the desperate man he was. Instead, he tugged her down over him, wrapping her up in a hug.
“We’ve gotten off track. We were talking about the baby.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked out.
He brushed his hand over her hair. “What are you sorry for now, baby girl?”
“Everything.”
He had been afraid of that. All he could do was touch her. Even when all his words failed, Summer loved to be touched. Especially her hair. She loved when he stroked his hands through it.
“Mostly, I’m sorry you have to deal with all of this.”
He let out a grunt, wanting to argue with her again, but swallowing the words.
New ones formed. “Tell me something. If this baby is a little girl, and she grew up and asked for something she wanted, a toy maybe, how would you treat her?”
Summer remained silent.
“Would you tell her she’s selfish? Just for wanting something? ”
“She would be,” Summer whispered.
“So, you’d tell her that?”
Summer let out her breath, shaking her head against his still stroking hand. “No. I’d give her whatever she wanted.”
Ramiro nuzzled her head. “I would, too.”
She snorted. “Of course you would. You’d spoil her rotten.”
Ramiro smiled against her hair. If she had a little girl with pale-blonde hair and a smile that lit up the room when it was genuine, just like Summer, damn right he’d spoil her.
The thought rooted inside his chest. A part of him now wanted the baby growing inside of Summer to be a girl.