Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
ROSCOE
It’s unsettling how things simply return to normal after such a life-altering event. No one at work knows what happened with Emelia that night. None of my friends have any idea. I’ve kept it completely to myself, hoarding my secret and my memories like a dragon.
But it’s also painfully lonely, knowing that I can never tell anyone. Knowing that I’ll never get to see or taste or feel Emelia again, and what happened with her can’t escape my lips. I’ll have to take it to my grave.
I’ve dated a little since Julie and I divorced, but it’s never gone anywhere. I’ve certainly never had sex like that before, not with anyone. The way I wanted to bury my knot in Emelia and stuff her full of my cum was overwhelming in a way it hasn’t been before.
Julie never let me knot her, not after I was changed. But I never craved it with her like I did with Emelia.
Nevertheless, life proceeds. I go to work, picking up as many overtime hours as I can to keep my mind busy. I’m building a decent nest egg, and I’ve paid off the house and my car. Retirement is ten or fifteen years away, and I want to be ready when the time comes.
Then, on one chilly autumn Tuesday, I get a phone call from an unrecognized number. It’s in my area code, so I assume it isn’t spam. Maybe a client reaching out. Usually they go through the boss, but sometimes I get direct calls from contractors I’ve worked with.
“Hello, this is Roscoe Daniels,” I say as I answer the phone. But instead of a greeting, there’s a long silence on the other end. I can hear someone breathing. “Hello?”
“Hey, Roscoe.”
It’s a quiet, feminine voice, one that’s intimately familiar in my memory.
Emelia. I had deleted her number from my phone so I wouldn’t ever be tempted to call or text her. But here she is, calling me instead, when I thought we had made it clear we’d never contact each other again.
“Emelia.” It comes out stiff and harsh, because it’s opening up a gaping wound I thought I had stitched closed. “What do you want?”
I hear her choke on the other end.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “I’m so sorry for calling you.”
Something is wrong. I try to soften my voice as I ask, “What is this about?”
There’s a long silence on the other end, her breath speeding up.
“Emelia?”
“I’m sorry,” she repeats, the words sticking in her throat as she tries to get them out. “I d-d-don’t know what to do.”
Dread fills my bones. Maybe she’s in trouble. Maybe she’s in danger. The wolf rises to the surface in a way it never has before, roaring to go to her, to help her, to get revenge on whoever has hurt her.
“Emelia. Please.” I try to sound more comforting. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She takes a deep breath on the other side, clearly trying to calm herself, too.
“Roscoe,” she says in a devastated voice, “I’m pregnant.”
My whole fucking world goes white. My vision blurs, and my heart practically stops beating in my chest.
No. No way. This can’t be happening. There must be a mistake.
“Jason’s?” I don’t know why I’m hoping that it’s his and not mine. It would be worse for Emelia if that was the case. But I also don’t want to even fathom what the other answer would sound like.
“No.” I can hear her starting to cry on the other side. “It’s not. It’s yours. I don’t know—I don’t understand—I was on the pill—but…” A sob breaks free. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Why does she keep apologizing? I’m the one who came inside her. I’m the one who was too horny and drunk to even consider using a condom. It takes two to tango, and I was one of those two. The older one, in fact, who should have behaved responsibly and didn’t.
This is my fault.
“Fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my eyes hard. “Goddamn it.”
She cries harder. Shit, I’m only making this worse.
I need to see her. I need to hold her and comfort her and tell her it’s going to be all right. We’ll figure something out.
“Emelia,” I say firmly. “I’m coming to get you. Right now.”
“What?” She sniffles.
“Text me your address.” I use my bossiest tone, because she responded well to that the night we were together.
“O-o-oh, okay.”
“See you soon,” I tell her in a softer voice. Then I hang up.
The text message arrives with her address—an apartment close to Elroy’s. Without a second thought, I get in the car, set up my phone to give me directions, and take off.
All I can think about as I drive is what this means. I can’t believe I knocked up a twenty-six-year-old girl. Fuck me. Fuck me into the sun.
I speed more than I should, as eager as I am to get to Emelia’s side.
She doesn’t deserve this. The choice she’s going to have to make is a hard one, and I have to be prepared for whichever path she chooses—which could have an astronomical impact on my life and hers.
I’ve already co-parented with Julie while Jason was growing up, and I know I could do it again, but the idea is more daunting than anything I could imagine.
My hands are gripping the wheel so tight my knuckles are white by the time I pull into the parking lot. I don’t even need to look up which apartment is Emelia’s because she’s sitting on the stairs out front, her head in her hands, her whole body hunched forward and curled in on herself.
“Emelia,” I say the moment I get out of the car. Her head snaps up, and her face is blotchy pink, her eyes spiderwebbed with red. She doesn’t even greet me, just rises to her feet and wraps her arms around herself.
Fuck. I didn’t consider this part. Of course she hates me. I saw her face when I spoke to her that morning in my strictest tone, hoping to cut everything off at the bud. Now that’s coming back to bite me in the ass, because she looks fearful as I approach the bottom of the stairs.
That’s the last thing I want, for her to be afraid of me. Of what I’ll say. Of what I’ll do.
I take the stairs two at a time until I’m standing in front of her, and she’s backing away onto the landing. But before she can get far, I grab her by the shoulders and stop her. Her eyes grow as big as saucers, and she flinches.
What does she think of me that she would flinch away?
“I’m sorry,” she says for the millionth time, ducking her head so she’s no longer looking at me. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop.” I relax my hold on her, but don’t let her go. “You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“But—”
“But nothing.” Gently, so as not to startle her, I raise one hand to run my thumb down her cheek. Seeing her up close again, every protective instinct in me roars to life. I need to comfort her. Make her pain go away. Show her everything will be all right.
As if I’ve summoned them, fresh tears roll down Emelia’s cheeks.
She squeezes her eyes closed, buckling forward as a sob takes her.
Without preamble, I open my leather jacket and wrap my arms around her, pulling her in close just like I did the last time she cried.
She’s stiff all over, but I hold her anyway, rubbing her back.
“Don’t worry,” I say into her hair, cradling her head against me. “We will figure this out. Together. I promise.”
At last, the tightness in her body fades, and she collapses into my arms. There we go. I take on her weight as her legs go out from underneath her.
“Let’s get you inside,” I say. “Sit down and talk, okay?”
She nods, clearly unable to get any words out. I keep one arm around her, supporting her as I twist the doorknob and open it. Then I lead her inside, where a small kitchen sits on the left and a living room on the right. There, that couch is the spot.
I guide Emelia over to it and we sit down together. She draws away from me, bringing her legs up onto the couch to hug them with her arms. It’s a defensive position, which the wolf doesn’t like. She still doesn’t trust me.
“When did you find out?” I ask.
“I called you as soon as… well.” She reaches over to the side table and produces a plastic baggie. Inside it is a pregnancy test. It very clearly displays two pink lines side by side.
No doubt about it. She has my baby growing inside her, and she’s at least eight weeks along now.
My brain pivots to problem-solving mode. I need to fix this, this lack of trust between us, and show her that I’m here for her no matter what. And then we’ll proceed to deciding what she wants to do about it.
“I’m not upset with you,” I tell her, turning on the couch so I’m facing her. She keeps her head in her hands, not looking at me. The shame is radiating off her. “This isn’t your fault, Emelia. Shit happens. I’m the one who should have used a condom.”
She doesn’t speak.
“I’m here. I’m here no matter what. All right? We can figure this out together.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Emelia finally says, squeezing her knees tighter against her. “I know what I’m supposed to do.”
I stare at her, not sure what she means. “‘Supposed’ to do?”
“I’m supposed to get an abortion, right?”
It’s like a fucking punch the way she says it, resigned and defeated. As if it’s already decided. As if she has no part in it.
“Why would you say that?” I ask. “Who’s telling you that?”
At last, she looks up at me, confused.
“Isn’t that what you want?”
What I want? I haven’t even thought about it.
“What I want doesn’t matter in the least in this situation.” I lean down so I can really look into her eyes. They’re huge and brown and so devastatingly sad, like her whole world has collapsed around her. “I am here to support you no matter what you choose to do.”
She stares at me like I just spoke in a foreign language.
“There’s no way you want another kid,” she says, voice hoarse from crying.
I shrug. “Again, it doesn’t matter. I signed up for anything when we had sex without a condom.” I try to keep my voice calm and steady and reassuring. “It’s up to you, Emelia.”
Somehow, my words make it worse, and she starts bawling all over again. The body is seventy percent water, and it’s all coming out of her eyes right now.
“But I don’t know what to do!” she cries out, flinging her arms into the air. “You were supposed to tell me, Roscoe. This will change your life, too, if… if…” She swallows hard, her hands curling into fists.
“If you keep it?” I supply in a soft tone.
She nods, turning her head away.
“Yeah, it will. It’ll change both our lives forever.”
“Then I should get rid of it.” Suddenly, her entire demeanor changes. Her eyes harden, and she returns her feet to the floor. “You don’t deserve that.”
Most unexpectedly, my wolf roars inside me. It claws at the edges of my body, furious at the idea that our baby, the one already growing inside her, might go away. That the seed I’ve planted in her would cease to exist.
“No.” The word just comes out of me. I can’t stop it.
“No?” she asks, perplexed.
“Please, don’t make any decisions because of what you think I want. You don’t know what I want.”
But I know what I want. I know it right then: now that I’ve seen her after so many weeks apart, I want her. I need her, in every way, and I can’t let her go again.
Neither can I let go of the life we’ve created together, not unless it’s what she needs in her own heart.
“What… what do you want?” she asks, and I don’t miss the hopeful note. It gives me an idea of what she’s really thinking.
“Emelia.” I gently raise both hands to her face, cradling it between them. She leans into me, her eyes closing as she absorbs my comfort. Good. “Since you left that day, I’ve regretted it. I wasn’t willing to admit it to myself, but… it’s true. I should never have told you to leave.”
Her eyes scrunch closed even harder, as if she doesn’t believe me.
“Look at me.”
Eventually, she does, peering up at me with tears gathering on her lashes.
“I want you. I want you so, so badly. Whatever you decide, I’m not leaving you. I’m not going to watch you walk away again.”
Besides, the train has already left the building.
Now I’m imagining her with my baby growing inside her, her belly swelling as it takes shape.
Now I’m imagining her with that baby in her arms, sucking on her perfect pink nipples.
Now I’m imagining it growing up, learning to walk and eventually going off to school for the first time.
But then, my logical brain kicks in.
Emelia still doesn’t know the truth about me, and that truth is what destroyed my marriage. Would it destroy what I have with her, too?
“I want to keep it,” Emelia says suddenly. She wipes her face with her wrist. “I don’t want to say goodbye.”
I smile at her, because it’s exactly what I wanted to hear.
“All right, then.” I slide my arm around her and bring her in closer, kissing the top of her head. “Then we’ll keep it.”
And I need to come clean with her—soon.