Chapter 22
Laiken
When the doors slide open, I find the penthouse shrouded in silence. For a second or two, I worry that Kia packed her bags and took off, unwilling to wait around for a conversation. The thought is enough to send a chill down my spine.
The last thing I need is her wandering the city alone and upset. I want her here with me, safe and protected.
I hurry down the hall and check the kitchen first. Empty. The absence only sharpens my fear as my mind races straight to worst-case scenarios. When I round the corner into the living room, I find her sitting ramrod straight on the edge of the couch, hands folded tightly in her lap.
The relief that crashes over me is nearly enough to take me out.
She’s here.
She stayed.
The realization comes with an uncomfortable truth that I’d already been preparing myself for what it would feel like if she hadn’t.
Her hands twist together, and her shoulders are hunched, as if bracing for a blow.
Her face is pale, and her eyes are wide, filled with fear.
She looks so damn small and defenseless.
When it comes down to it, I don’t know Kia well, but I know that look. It’s one that says she’s expecting judgment. Sympathy floods through me as I cross the room, forcing myself to take it slow. I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll end up spooking her and she’ll bolt.
I’m well aware of my size and how easily my presence could overwhelm her. Kia watches me cautiously, worry flashing across her face before she schools it.
I really fucking hate that she’s so nervous.
I settle beside her, close enough that our knees almost touch, and reach for her hands. It would be impossible not to notice how cold they are or that she’s trembling. Her breath hitches as she stares down at the place where our fingers are now laced together.
It’s tempting to pull her into my arms and hold her. Instead, I ask the one question that’s uppermost in my mind.
“How far along are you?”
She swallows. “I’m not sure. Once I missed a period, I took a test. So… around three months.”
I nod. “Okay.”
I don’t let myself react to the number. I need to take this one step at a time. That’s how you survive moments like this.
My mind moves to the next logical step. “The first thing we should do is make an appointment with an OB-GYN.”
She blinks. “Rina already did that. It’s, um, later this morning. I was planning to go while Elody was at school.”
Relief eases some of the tension gathered inside me. “Good.”
If she told Rina, then it makes sense her brother’s aware of the situation.
“So, Oliver knows?”
Her mouth trembles as she chews her bottom lip. Her eyes grow glassy before she shakes her head. “No, I only told Rina.”
When the first tear falls, something inside me breaks. The shift is immediate, and I lift my hand, carefully wiping the wetness away with the pad of my thumb.
“My family is going to be so disappointed,” she whispers. “All of them.”
The shame in her voice cuts deeper than the tears.
“Other than Oliver,” I say quietly, “I don’t know your family, but I can’t imagine any of them wanting you to go through this alone.”
She releases a shaky breath, clearly trying to hold it together. The effort alone tells me how close she is to the edge.
“And the father?” I ask, dreading the answer even as the words leave my mouth. For all I know, he’s involved from a distance. Or worse, he’s someone she’s still in love with.
The thought is like a punch I didn’t see coming. It’s not anger, exactly, but something far darker that feels more possessive. My hand curls at my side and my jaw locks tight.
It’s a reflex I have no right to feel. It takes effort to swallow the emotion down, forcing it deep before the flames have a chance to spread. This isn’t about me. Whatever I’m feeling doesn’t matter right now. What matters is Kia. She doesn’t need judgment or jealousy from me.
She needs steadiness.
Support.
A safe place to land.
The question hangs between us, waiting for an answer that has the potential to change everything.
“He doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby.” Her voice fractures on the last syllable. “He told me to… take care of it.”
A fierce and blinding anger flashes through me.
“Son of a—” I clamp my mouth shut before the rest has a chance to escape. The words that crowd my tongue wouldn’t help her or fix anything.
So, I do the impossible and force the anger down. Losing my temper won’t make this situation better. What she needs in this moment is steadiness and support.
I pull her to my chest, one arm banding around her shoulders, the other coming up to cradle the back of her head.
She fits there too easily. Almost as if she were made to fill the space.
I slide my hand through her hair, struck by how small she feels. The realization settles over me like a weight I can’t shake. When it comes down to it, protective instincts are dangerous. They slip in quietly, convincing you they’re temporary, right up until they’re not.
What kind of man says that to a woman who’s pregnant with his child?
The guy better hope we never meet on the street, because if we do—
I shove the thought away and refocus my attention on the woman shaking in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Hey, you don’t have anything to apologize for,” I say firmly. “Not for any of it.”
Not for being scared or needing help. Or for getting involved with the wrong kind of man. One who’s not a man at all. Next to Elody being born, the day Sarah told me about being pregnant was one of the happiest of my life. And that includes the moment when my name was called for the draft.
Only now do all the pieces fit together.
“Is that the reason you left school?”
She nods against me. “I didn’t know what else to do. And I had to get away from Collin.”
My hold on her tightens. “There’s no reason for you to do this alone. I’ll go with you to the appointment.”
She pulls back enough to search my face. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I want to.” My hand rises to her cheek, thumb stroking the delicate skin beneath her eye. “You shouldn’t have to sit in that room by yourself.”
Her lips part, as if to argue, before she stops herself and nods instead. Tension drains from her muscles as emotion swims in her eyes. Although, it’s different from what I saw when I first walked into the room. That earlier edge of panic has softened. There’s less fear and more relief now.
“Thank you.”
“It’ll be all right. I promise.”
The words settle deep inside me like a vow.
One I’ll be damned if I break.