Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
Ava
“Is she kicking?” Leah asks, staring at my ever-growing bump as I press a palm to the side of it.
“Want to feel?”
It’s not the first time I’ve let others touch my belly. In fact, I love it. I celebrate being pregnant every chance I get. And at twenty-eight weeks now, there’s no hiding it. Not that I’d want to. I don’t even get mad when virtual strangers ask to touch my tummy. Because I’m having a baby.
I close my eyes and repeat the words in my head. I’m having a baby.
If the constant kicks, rolls, and hiccups didn’t remind me, I’d have a hard time believing it’s true.
The best part, I’m having her with Trevor. We’re going to be a family.
The past few months have been some of the best of my life.
True to his word, he hasn’t gotten spooked.
He hasn’t run away. He’s been the perfect, most attentive husband.
He brings me flowers. Takes me on romantic dates.
Rubs my feet. Fetches takeout whenever I have a craving.
And he never fails to tell me how beautiful I am, even when I feel like I’m approaching beached whale status.
Sometimes it feels like we’re this young couple still getting to know each other.
Still just dating. You know, if you take away the huge melon-size lump squishing between us when we make love, the house we’ve made into a home for our impending arrival, and the fact that I’m wearing the man’s rings even though he still doesn’t remember giving either of them to me.
It’s been almost six months since his accident, and there’s still no sign of his memory returning.
Occasionally, little things will happen that let me know the old Trevor is still in there somewhere.
An inflection to his voice. The way he cocks his head when working out a problem.
When he absently sings along to an old song he used to love.
But I no longer mourn the man he once was.
Because I like us exactly the way we are.
I love us. I love him.
I don’t say it much. He knows it’s true. But repeating it puts pressure on him, pressure he doesn’t need. And even though he hasn’t said it, I’m almost positive he feels the same way.
I get the feeling he’s holding out because of me.
Because I told him to wait. Maybe he thinks I need some sort of grand gesture.
I don’t. But I’m patient because actions speak louder than words.
And his actions—the way he looks at me, whispers to me, touches me…
hell, the way he reveres me—all speak… no, scream to the level of his feelings.
While the old Trevor would say the words every time we spoke, it was more like a habit, something you say in greeting and when you part.
Something you say because you’re married and you’re supposed to.
I get the feeling the man I’m with now will only say them when he feels them to the very depths of his soul.
“She’s really moving around in there,” Leah says, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Don’t you just want to sit around all day with your hands on your stomach?”
I chuckle. “You have no idea.”
Because, yes, all I want to do is feel this new incredible life growing inside me.
What’s even better are the times when Trevor’s arms are around me and he feels her too.
And there are a lot of those times. I’ve come to know that despite the lack of his spoken words, he not only loves me, he loves her.
The way she kicks when he pokes a finger into my belly.
The rhythmic motions of her hiccups. How he still looks at and touches the myriad of ultrasound pictures attached to our refrigerator.
Yes, Trevor Criss loves his girls, all right.
Jordan stops moving and Leah’s hand falls away. “You look really happy, Ava.”
“That’s because I am really happy.”
It’s a concept that still stuns me considering that five months, three weeks, and two days ago, I thought my husband was dead and my life was over.
And now… now I’m getting everything I ever dreamed of.
The door chime sounds and Christian Cruz appears, expertly using one of his forearm crutches to hold it open as he works his way through the door.
Instinctively, I turn to watch Bug. I swear it’s like watching my younger self when she sees him.
Her eyes light up. Her chest rises and falls a bit faster.
Even the color of her skin seems a shade warmer.
Their eyes connect and they gaze at each other like nobody else exists.
Like they are the only two people in the room. Like he’s the Jack to her Diane.
I’m sure I looked at Trevor that way when I was their age, and it makes me nostalgic every time I see them together.
Then again, there’s nothing to be nostalgic about. Because I realize that’s me now.
My heart races when Trevor walks into a room. Even when I think about him, as I am right now, I feel lighter. Like there aren’t any problems in the world because he exists.
I wonder what the future holds for them. Will they go off to college together? Get married the day they graduate? Live out their lives in Calloway Creek, running the business Christian’s family started?
If you ask either of them, they’ll say they’re just friends. But they aren’t fooling anyone. Not me, not Carter, not Bug’s dad Asher or her stepmom, Allie.
Carter and I talked about it once a few weeks ago.
He thinks they won’t admit to it because they live next door to each other and if they say they are dating, Bug’s dad might go to extreme measures to make sure Christian doesn’t have easy access.
Which kind of made me laugh considering everyone knew Asher Anderson deadbolted the outside entrance to his daughter’s room the day they moved in.
Still, where there’s a will, there’s a way.
I contemplate telling Bug about the tree. Passing the torch, so to speak. But I don’t. The tree will always be mine and Trevor’s. It belongs only to us. The three of us—me, the old Trevor, and the new one.
I thank my lucky stars every day that he’s allowed this one thing from our past to remain a constant in our life.
We go there often, especially now that the weather’s warm.
I’ll sit and lean against the trunk, he’ll put his head in my lap and talk to baby Jordan as he rubs my belly.
Sometimes we’ll bring a picnic. Sometimes we’ll make love.
Sometimes we’ll just sit and gaze at each other, telling each other all the things without having to utter a single word.
Happy? Yeah, damn right I am.
“Ava,” a shaky voice calls my name.
Oh, God.
I turn to see Patrick by the front door. The expression on his face is one I’ve seen before. There’s a niggling in my gut. A horrible sense of déjà vu. He’s not wearing a military uniform. He’s wearing his fire captain one. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to deliver bad news.
I swallow shards of glass as my throat goes dry.
Trevor is on duty.
Is my happy world about to be upended once more? It’s ridiculous to think it. He’s a paramedic, not a doctor in a combat zone. But then why is Patrick looking at me the way he is?
My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I ask, “What is it?”
“There’s been an accident.”
My hands cradle my belly as I sink to the floor in a state of panic. I close my eyes and cover my ears. If I can’t hear about it, it can’t hurt me. It can’t ruin my perfect life and perfect future. It just… can’t.
“Ava!” Patrick runs around the counter and pulls me to my feet, escorting me to the back room.
I ask the question that might just kill me. “Is he dead?”
“God, no. He’s okay.” His eyes shift away, which makes me think he’s lying. “He’s at the hospital. I came here to take you to him.”
“Why don’t I believe you when you say he’s okay? Patrick, what aren’t you telling me? What happened?”
“There was a domestic dispute just outside of town. You know that couple, the Hetzingers? The ones who are always fighting? Police and EMS were called. The woman ran out of the house, bloodied and battered. Her husband was being put in handcuffs when he broke away and got a hold of one of the officer’s guns and started shooting.
” He shakes his head. “And your stupid ass husband had to go be a goddamn hero and jump on top of not only Mrs. Hetzinger, but his own partner.”
The way he says it—stupid ass husband—makes me think it’s all okay.
That Patrick is just here to warn me of the impending rumors and the likelihood of more reporters coming around.
But there’s a look on his face. He hasn’t told me everything.
And he said Trevor was at the hospital. Because he’s hurt? Or because someone else is?
“And…?” I ask, hesitantly.
“And.” He scrubs a hand across his jaw. “Trevor was shot.”
My hand flies to my mouth. I feel sick. “Oh my god!”
“He’s okay, Ava. The bullet went right through the flesh of his outer thigh. It didn’t hit anything important. He’ll probably be back to the running trails in a matter of weeks.”
“Jesus Christ, Patrick.” I close my eyes, then open them to stare daggers. I pound on his chest. “I really thought you were going to tell me he was dead.”
“Um, Ava? That’s… not all.”
For the second time in thirty seconds, I feel like I might faint. Because the undertone of his words has me thinking Trevor is anything but fine.
Confusion riddles my brain and tears wet my cheeks as I await his words. Because he said he’d be okay. He said he’d be running the trails. So why is he looking at me like he thinks my world is about to be flipped on its axis?
“When he got shot, he fell back and hit his head. He lost consciousness.”
“B-but, you said he’d be okay.”
“He will. Physically. But, Ava, when he came to, he was… confused.”
I’m fairly sure if this had happened to any other person, the amount of worry on Patrick’s face wouldn’t be akin to being slammed by a potato truck. But this is Trevor we’re talking about. Someone who’s already suffered a severe head injury.