Page 11

11

S ince sharing the bathroom with Ringo this morning, I’ve felt nothing but hot and bothered. He knows exactly what he’s doing when he teases me. I enjoy it way more than I should. But now, I’m beginning to regret not getting in the shower with him.

“The gel will be a little cold,” says the sonographer, a middle aged woman with short, spiky purple hair.

She smiles warmly as she lowers the towel draped across my bump, revealing it to herself, and everyone else in the room.

As usual, my cheeks flush.

At this point, I’m starting to wonder if I’ve got an underlying medical condition, because surely no one blushes this much and survives .

My gaze darts to Ringo, leaning casually against the wall by the door. The room isn’t big, so he’s not far, but right now, he feels worlds away, and I don’t like it.

Lexi is beside me, holding my hand, and Andrea is standing behind the sonographer, watching on with quiet support.

My heart races as Ringo’s whiskey eyes drop to my stomach. It’s the first time he’s seeing my bump in the flesh, and I can’t help but worry he’s picturing Kylie, lying in the dirt while some random man…

No. I can’t bear to think about it.

“If this is too much…” I start, but Ringo’s eyes snap back to mine and he shakes his head, a frown tugging at his brows.

“I’m not going anywhere, Angel.”

“Dad can come closer if he likes,” the sonographer offers.

Oh.

Shit.

She’s not to know Ringo isn’t the dad, and my cheeks practically burst into flames in mortification.

“Oh he’s not…” I trail off, completely thrown as Ringo pushes off the wall and strides forward, dragging a chair up next to Lexi like he belongs there.

“Yeah, Dad would like.”

Wait, what?

My wide eyes dart to Andrea, who is smothering a laugh, then to Lexi, who is grinning like the devil herself.

I blink a few times wondering if Lexi and Ringo planned this given their matching smirks, before I’m distracted by the sonographer pressing the probe thingy to my skin.

All eyes turn to the screen .

It’s nothing but black, white and grey at first. Nothing really resembling much until…

“And there’s your little bub.” The sonographer’s words have me blinking a few times to see past the tears blurring my vision.

But I see it.

The shapes… the round of a head. The bud of a nose. And oh my gosh… even lips.

I giggle as a little hand moves, looking like it’s waving.

“Holy shit, Abs,” Lexi cries. “Look at your little baby.”

I laugh through my tears, seeing even Andrea is getting emotional. I look at everyone but Ringo.

I can’t.

I’m too scared.

What if I see pain in his eyes? What if I see regret, or even worse, resentment?

“Do you want to know if it’s a boy or girl?” the sonographer asks, and all eyes turn to me.

Do I?

I hadn’t even thought of that. It’s probably something I should have considered. I guess that and thinking of names, but I’ve been too busy trying to stay alive. Too busy running.

“I don’t,” I say quietly, clearing my throat. “I’d like it to be a surprise.”

She nods, giving me a warm smile, and Lexi squeezes my hand, pressing a kiss to it before she holds my hand out, offering it to Ringo.

I don’t know why she does that, but he takes it, and when I finally glance at him, his whiskey eyes are softer than I’ve ever seen them .

Resting an elbow on the bed, Ringo leans in to press his lips to my fingers. The tenderness of it steals my breath, making me forget a complete stranger is currently probing my stomach.

This soft side of Ringo is almost jarring.

We barely know each other.

I’m eighteen. He’s thirty-three. That’s like fifteen years difference.

He walks on the wild side and brushes shoulders with criminals. I go to church and confess my sins to a congregation of perverted men.

We’re polar opposites.

Fire and water.

Chaos and calm.

And yet… we’ve been thrown together. A broken girl and her dangerous protector.

On paper, in society’s eyes, we don’t make sense.

So why does it feel so damn right?

Why does Ringo, holding my hand during my first ultrasound for a baby that isn’t even his, feel like the safest place in the world?

It makes no sense.

Should I care?

Probably.

Is this just another heartbreak waiting to happen?

Most likely. Nothing good lasts, right?

But maybe… just maybe, the good things, no matter how fleeting, are still worth having.

“Let’s listen to the heartbeat,” the sonographer cuts through the emotions swarming through my head, and I don’t even get a chance to respond before the room fills with a fast-paced, rhythmic thump-thump-thump.

Holy shit! That’s my baby. That sound! It’s my baby’s heartbeat!

A laughing-sob falls from me as Lexi wraps an awkward one-armed hug around me, pressing her cheek to mine. At the same time, Ringo gives my hand a gentle squeeze, and when I glance at him, there’s no mistaking the smile tucked beneath his bushy beard.

Happiness. Pure and raw.

Something I haven’t felt in so long, I almost don’t recognise it.

But it’s good, and this moment is everything.

It’s the confirmation I needed to solidify my decision to keep this baby.

I will have him or her.

I will raise this baby on my own, and never let myself dwell on how it came to be.

The sonographer does some technical stuff, taking measurements and letting me know that the gestation is around twenty-four to twenty-five weeks, but that bub is a little smaller than they’d like.

That turns into a discussion on prenatal vitamins, eating properly, and all the things I haven’t been able to do.

And just like that, the lightness drains from me.

I’ve already let my baby down. He or she is smaller than they should be.

Andrea and the sonographer keep chatting about my care, but I zone out, sinking under a feeling of self-doubt .

Am I really the right person to raise this baby? I’m already doing such a bad job.

“Can we have some privacy please?” Ringo’s voice cuts through my spiral, and my attention snaps back to what’s happening in the room.

His eyes are on me now, sharp, yet worried, and everyone in the room gets up and exits, leaving just the two of us.

“What’s happening inside that head of yours right now?”

I frown at his question.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You were glowing just a minute ago, Abs.” He wheels his seat closer, taking my hand between both of his. “Then it was like someone turned off the light in your eyes. Tell me what changed.”

I don’t want to say it.

I don’t want to give it breath, but shame creeps back in, familiar and cold.

“Angel. Don’t make me demand it.”

Part of me wants him to demand it. To pull that submissive side out of me so I don’t have to be the one responsible for admitting to the thoughts running through my head.

But, I also don’t want that to be the foundation of whatever this is between us.

Every time I can’t find the courage to speak my truth, do I really want to rely on him to force it out of me?

No, I don’t want that, so I lick my lips, draw in a calming breath, and shift my gaze to my still exposed baby bump.

“What if… what if I’m making the wrong decision for this baby?” I ask, too scared to look at Ringo. Too scared I’ll find the same uncertainty on his face. “I’m already failing this baby. I sh ould have gotten medical help sooner. He or she is too small. I haven’t fed my baby enough. I haven’t protected it enough.”

This time, I can’t stop myself. I glance at him, and shame hits hard as tears fill my eyes.

He’s already shaking his head, his features softening with a kind of gentleness that cracks something inside me, and he reaches up and brushes his fingers over my cheek, swiping at the salty drops.

“Angel, just the fact that you’re worried about this proves you’re the right person to be this baby’s mum. It’s the good mums that always think they aren’t doing enough.”

A sob slips free as I press my hand to his over my cheek, leaning my head into his touch like I need it to breathe.

“How do you always know exactly what to say?”

He scoffs. “That’s not the right thing to say. That’s just the truth, Abs.”

Abs . I swear I could melt every time he says my name like that.

“Why aren’t you running?” I whisper, and he frowns, sitting taller which puts far too much space between us.

“Why would I need to run?”

I stare at him for a long moment, tears still clinging to my lashes.

Ugh. I’m so sick of crying.

Is it a pregnancy thing? The hormones? Is that why I’m so emotional?

Maybe. Maybe not.

“I’m having a baby,” I deadpan, and he frowns, nodding slowly like he’s struggling to follow my train of thought.

“I know, Angel. I can see that.” His gaze flicks to my bump before returning to my eyes.

“I’m eighteen… and having a baby. A baby th at’s a result of being raped.”

He growls, his eyes turning dark with anger.

“I am very aware, Angel.”

“Then why…” I shake my head, swiping at my cheeks. “I guess I’m just trying to understand what you’re doing here. I mean, I know you’re trying to protect me, and I do appreciate it, but…” I trail off, and he arches a questioning brow.

“Have you already forgotten what I said last night on the rooftop?” he snaps, clearly annoyed with me.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I admit, and he narrows his eyes.

“Are you sure? Because I told you I went looking for you because I care about you, Abs. I care. I told you that I crave you.”

“Yes, I know but—”

“But what?”

Jesus. Is he really going to make me say it?

Fine.

Whatever.

“Look, I’m not saying there’s anything between us. I don’t know the first thing about relationships. But I don’t really understand what this is.” I gesture between us. “And since I’m going to be a mum soon, and my life will no longer be mine anymore, I don’t get why you’re here… holding my hand while I get my first ultrasound. Telling the sonographer you’re the dad.”

He smirks. Like this is some kind of joke, but it’s not.

There’s no humour in this for me. Just pain. The deep, dragging kind of pain that sits heavy in my chest, squeezing until I wonder if my heart is going to stop beating altogether.

“Yes, I said I was the dad, because the sonographer looked like she was about to start asking questions. Questions you don’t need.”

“So, you were just lying to protect me,” I murmur, mostly to myself.

I mean, it makes sense. There’s no way after such a short time he’d actually step in and claim my baby as his with the intention of taking care of it too.

Not that I need him to.

I know I don’t need a man in my life to be a mum, but the truth of it is, if I’m ever to have a relationship with someone ever again, I’m not just me anymore. I’m me and my baby.

Us.

I have to remember that. Not just for my sake, but for my baby’s.

“You know it’s more than that,” Ringo snaps me out of my thoughts, his voice low and sharp.

When I meet his eyes, I notice a war going on behind them.

His dark brows are drawn tight, jaw ticking beneath his beard like he’s struggling to hold something back.

“I’m here because I fucking care , Angel. I don’t know anything beyond that.”

He fucking cares.

If I had to guess, I’d say he’s just as confused as I am about whatever this thing is between us.

“Okay,” I whisper, letting it be enough for now.

If he wants to protect me, I’ll let him. Even if it’s just for the sake of my baby .

Relaxing back in his seat, Ringo’s eyes drift down to my bump. The gel has been wiped away, but my bare skin is still exposed, the towel sitting low, barely covering my panties.

“Can I touch it?”

My brows shoot up, and when our eyes meet, whatever he sees in my expression makes him smirk.

“I mean your tummy. Just to be clear.”

I stifle a giggle, my lips tugging into a closed-mouth smile, and nod.

Rolling his eyes like I’m the one being inappropriate, he places his large hand over the swell of my stomach and his lids flutter closed, as if feeling the life growing inside me, skin to skin, just knocked the air out of him.

“Are you thinking about her?” I whisper, unsure if he wants to talk about Hope ever again.

I want him to, though.

Hope was… is important to him, and he should speak of her. Remember her. Even if he never got to know his little girl, she still matters.

“No… Yes…” His lids flicker open and his gaze shifts back to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I lied. Habit, maybe.”

“It’s okay.”

Reaching out, I slide my fingers through his thick, unruly hair, which, just like his beard, has grown untamed since I saw him three weeks ago.

He really hasn’t been looking after himself… because of me.

“You know, it’s okay if this is too hard.” I gesture to my bump. “I don’t expect anything from you. The baby… Well, it’s a lot.”

“It’s not too hard, Angel. I just wish the circumstances were different. I fucking hate knowing what you’ve had to endure.”

I sigh at his words, because yeah, we’ve both been through hell.

Our experiences may have been different, but we’ve both suffered unimaginable pain.

“I feel the same way about you…” I clear the growing lump in my throat. “What you told me on the rooftop last night. I’m so sorry that happened to you.”

He offers me a warm smile, and chuckles. “We are a fucking pair, huh? Damaged goods.”

I giggle, liking that he can joke about it, even though it’s still heartbreaking.

Running his hand gently over my bump, he leans forward and presses his lips just below my navel. My breath catches, the intimacy of it sending heat surging through me, and his eyes flutter closed, like he’s savouring the moment.

Before I can even figure out what to say or do, the door flies open.

“Oh, fuck, sorry, I…” JD freezes like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide as he stares at Ringo, who lifts his head from my stomach and glares over his shoulder.

“What is it?” he snaps, and I can tell by the way JD is looking everywhere but at me with his lips twitching, that he’s trying not to laugh.

He probably has no idea what he just walked in on, but since it’s also none of his business, neither of us rush to explain.

“Ahhh… thought you’d want to know, our spotters reported seeing the Stone and Allen kids nearby.”

I stiffen.

Daniel and Donny are nearby?

How the hell did they find us?