Chapter 45
Amelia
After hearing his voice, all I wanted to do was shout from the rooftop that I was finally having my dreams come true.
The small photo from the scan kept me going.
I wanted to tell him, the messy side of us won in the end.
All the talks of being his and making me a mother or making him a father, it all came true.
After my miscarriage, I thought it was the end of it, that I would never be ready again, that perhaps I was more fearful that it would be my ex-husband’s, and I would have to fight for both myself and my child.
But knowing that half of that baby was Shooter’s, I couldn’t help but smile in the end. I was daydreaming the entire time as I sat in the parking lot before I headed home to make sure that I would be at the arena before the fight. The more I sat in the parking lot, the more I daydreamed.
Shooter coming from whatever job he was working on, finding me on the couch with the little one cradled in my arms. He would come over to the couch, pepper kisses along my cheek, murmur that he couldn’t wait to see my belly grow again.
I wondered if he would be turned on if I breastfed.
I mean there have been a couple of books that Melody had introduced me to at one time.
I wondered if Shooter would make our child a little artist. Then I quickly thought about their first ride of their daddy’s bike.
Daddy. That had a ring to it.
I glided my hand over my stomach, knowing that life was growing inside me, one made from love and adoration. This child would be protected, given a family I lost years ago, a family that I missed. This baby was going to know that they were enough, they were never alone.
Warmth slid down my face as the tears of happiness didn’t stop falling.
“Your daddy is going to be so excited, little one. Something you got to know though.” I knew that it couldn’t understand me, but it felt therapeutic.
“He will never leave your side. The outside world would call him a monster, a devil. But he won’t be like that with you and me.
He’ll show you that you don’t have to earn his love. ”
Maybe excited is too little of a word. No, he was going to be obsessed over this.
I glanced at the photo, worried that it wasn’t real. But I heard that heartbeat, I saw the smiles of my friends comforting me, this baby was real and it was ours.
Time had moved faster than I anticipated. That’s what happens when you get lost in your thoughts and overcome with happiness. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.
I needed to hurry, I needed to shower, change into different clothes, and be ready to stand by his side.
How was I going to tell him? After the fight?
Perhaps, but I couldn’t keep a secret like this from him for too long.
And yet, my horny ass thought about him punishing me for not telling him sooner than later.
A pool of heat almost gushed from me just simply thinking of it.
The streetlamps started to turn on one by one, my window of time was diminishing. “Don’t be like your mother and squirrel and be late to things,” I mumbled as I turned onto my street. There was no one in my driveway.
A sigh of relief blew through. It was one less stress to think about and the longer he was away, the more I thought he would disappear for good.
I fumbled with my keys to the door, my work bag feeling like it was getting heavier.
Once the lock clicked open, I pushed through, turning on the lights, illuminating the house I once dreamed that it would be a family home.
After the fight, it wouldn’t be mine anymore.
I didn’t want to be in a house that has been haunted with terror and fear.
I stepped toward the living room and was about to get into the kitchen when a shadowy figure stepped into the open kitchen.
With darkened eyes, patchy skin, and a horrible stubble, my own nightmare stalked into the room. A grimace look plastered on his face.
I panicked, my throat started to dry up, sweat started to drip down my back.
“Chris,” my voice squeaked. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
More like what hole or whose hole did you crawl out of.
Chris’s voice was a hit with a twist of alcohol and a crazed man. “Wanted to be here for my wife when she got off of work.”
“Not your wife, haven’t been for quite some time. You need to fucking leave,” I warned him. My eyes darted around the room, searching for a potential weapon, something that would cause him damage. Maybe not enough to kill him, but enough to knock him out until I could do something with him.
Fuck, I had been around Shooter for too long, I was starting to think like him.
“Oh, come on now. I don’t play that. Death do us part. Remember that?” he taunted as he leaned on the kitchen island holding up a gold wedding band. Funny, because the one we exchanged was silver with a black outline.
“Funny, I also remember them also mentioning something like to honor, to cherish, to be loyal to, guess that went out the door as soon as we said I do. Or was it beforehand?” I spat.
I never wanted him again after the strike. I lost all hope that there was a true man under the guise of a true monster.
“When did you become such a bitch? Surely I thought that street rat fucked it out of you.”
“I would suggest you shut the fuck up before regret sets in,” I warned him.
“I could say the same thing about you.” He reared. “You look different. Your hair finally is growing back. Just the way I liked it.”
I consciously touched the strands of my hair that was scraping my shoulders. There was only one reason why I cut it years ago and I was looking at him.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I hissed, carefully planning my next step. Safety, out of danger. That was all my mind flashed to.
“This is my house.” He gestured to the walls. “I think I deserve this place.”
“You don’t deserve shit.” Way to go Amelia, piss him off, not like he doesn’t know how to hurt you like before.
“I deserved a submissive wife, a life without trouble, and much more.” He sounded confident in his answer.
I shook my head. “You were never going to have those things. So, I ask again, what the fuck are you doing in my house?”
He clicked his tongue. “I was told that my wife might have missed me, and I should return home.”
I shook my head. “No, you were supposed to be very far away from me.”
“That wasn’t going to happen, darling wife.” He sneered, almost chuckled out loud.
I yelled, “Don’t. Fucking. Call. Me. That.”
I reached into my bag, trying to find my phone. Things were spilling out but I didn’t care, I needed to let him or them or anyone know what was happening. Heavy footsteps struck the floor, coming close to me.
My phone was knocked out of my hands and before I could retrieve it, a rough hand clenched on my throat, thrusting me to the nearest wall.
“Why couldn’t you just be a good wife and do what you’re told to do?” he hissed as his rank breath burned my senses. I clawed at his hand, my nails trying to dig into his arm.
I wasn’t going to let this happen again. I wasn’t going to be weak again, I wasn’t going to let him in. He wasn’t even at full strength; his grip wasn’t as tight as it had been in the past.
“Because I know the true animal you are. Heartless, a drunk, and a dead man walking.” I grunted, still having trouble loosening his grip. His eyes grew hungry for whatever was going on in his mind. He acted like we were still a possibility that I could bend at his will.
His eyes darted, flashing with anger, looking at the remnants of my bag spilling over. And in one moment, my face drained of color. With his hand still wrapped around my throat, closing it tighter, he bent down picking up my ounce of spark and joy.
Chris held my scan photo, almost wanting to crush it. But eyes depicting hatred, fury, like it was some kind of betrayal.
He leaned in closer to my face. “You fucking let him fuck a baby in you?”
I rasped out, “At least you understand that it’s not yours.” I knew whatever I was planning, it was going to come with a little pain.
I thrashed my head into his head, the radiating pain pulsed through me. Chris yelled out a groan, loosening his grip on me. He stumbled back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You fucking bitch.”
I launched myself into the kitchen, trying to find some type of weapon. I had a lot more to lose, and I would fight my way through it. I had a future to get to.
The sounds of his moans from the pain that pulsed through him only made me want to find something quicker.
I knew my syringes were in a different location to prevent him looking in the same place, but at that moment, I couldn’t remember where they were.
Knives were put away and my mind blanked and where they were as well.
Think, Amelia, where are they?
I knew no one was looking for me yet, my phone had been flung across the room somewhere. I had to survive, again, and hopefully for the last time.
Chris shuffled to his feet, and like a charging bull, stalked into the kitchen. This time, I didn’t think of my life flashing before my eyes, I pushed past the thoughts.
I reached into the sink and grabbed the only thing I could and remembered words from Shooter echoing in my head. Put everything you have into your swing or hit.
Chris didn’t stop charging at me, cursing me with every word in the book. The storm that brewed in his mind was about to wreak havoc on me. The pent-up anger, there was never an ounce of love nor redemption.
And that was fine by me and gave me even more reason to strike when I could. As he came charging to me, he raged on like a bull, trying to wrap his hands around my throat for the final time. Except I wasn’t saying goodbye to the world, I was taking out the trash that brought it along.
Just as his hands reached out, I grabbed the handle of a large pan that was covered with burnt residue. I swung with everything that I had until I smashed into his skull, making him spin around and collapse on the floor.
He laid there, almost lifeless, better than any drug could have done. I gripped the handle tighter, and in my own raging madness, I straddled his unconscious body and swung the pan over and over and over again, letting out a painful scream, one that had been trapped for way too long.
With every hit, I put enough power behind it that I was blurring the line of murder and damaging injuries. Every hit released a weight off my chest, a hot tear that was held back. One tear became a waterfall.
I didn’t have to hold back anymore. I didn’t have to cower in a corner and pray that he wouldn’t terrorize me anymore.
The wall that I built myself, holding back all the sadness and anger exploded.
For so long, I never showed an ounce of weakness, I had to stand and protect myself.
I didn’t have to hide my emotions, I could finally cry and never worry about a hand punishing me for it.
I didn’t have to fear anymore.
“You will never fucking touch me again.” I gritted out, taking one final swing. Well, until he moaned and I gave another for good measure as his body finally collapsed.
I scrambled off of him, my chest heaving with panicked and adrenaline filled breath. I wasn’t fucking weak anymore, I was a strong woman, taking down the real monster that haunted her so many damn years.
I held my belly, thinking only about the baby growing inside me. I was ready to be a mother, for another chance. “I told you, no one is ever going to hurt you little one. Mama’s got you.”
“Mia!” My name echoed from the front. “Mia, sweet girl, where are you?”
In the light of the chaos from the living room stood my friend, a young man, and a brother. Sheer panic spreads across their faces. They looked around, in disbelief and a slight bit of horror at the aftermath. I raised my hand, showing them, I was alive and slightly shaken up. “Over here.”
Hurried footsteps came closer into the kitchen. “What in the holy family is this?” Melody said, shockingly.
I softly chuckled. “What, you've never seen a woman beat her ex-husband nearly to death? Geez, my friend, you should get out more often.” Comedy, the best kind of coping mechanism there was.
“Shooter’s going to flip his shit.” Stray sounded worried. Not for me, but for the bastard splayed on the floor.
“I would imagine so.” I attempted to stand up but ended up a little lightheaded. “I take it that that piece of shit was told to be here and not somewhere else.”
“Mia, are you okay?” Melody asked.
I nodded. “As well as I can be.” Instinctively I rubbed my belly, trying to stand up again, I finally got to my feet.
I saw Stray and Dillon walk back into the living room, shaking their heads, trying to find the words to convey their own thoughts.
Melody helped steady me, gripping my upper arms. I smiled softly, and she did so in return.
She rested the side of her head with mine, giving me a moment to breathe.
Stray bent down and picked something up.
My eyes widened because my little secret was about to be found out.
He turned back to us girls, holding the scan photo in his hands, “Um. Melody, I hate to ask, but um is this… oh fuck.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth, glancing in her direction. Her own shocked expression should have clued Stray in, but it didn’t. She started to sputter, “No. No. Oh, God. I know we rushed in, but that’s not…”
I saved my friend from further embarrassment. “That would be mine. And before you ask another question, yes the baby is Shooter’s.”
Melody tightened her hold. “You’re having a baby.”
“Well, this isn’t exactly how I wanted to tell people, I mean for fuck's sake, baby daddy doesn’t even know yet.”
Oh shit. “I need to get to Shooter now, before he loses his mind.”
“Too late for that,” Stray grumbled.
“The man nearly beat Mr. Abbott, the man with the De Santo family, to a pulp.”
I turned my head to Melody. “Mel, be a dear and get the silver handcuffs from my bedside table.” Her eyes widened in disbelief but not before she started to scatter to my bedroom.
Stray raised an eyebrow. I shook my head.
“Not for me, Jesus. I’m not done with this bastard and after the fight, we can guarantee that neither is Shooter. ”
Stray curled a smile. “Y’all are very much made for each other.”
After Stray had taken the cuffs from Melody and cuffed them to a still Chris, he went off to make a couple calls.
“Well, mama, what do you want to do?”
I wanted my man.