Page 67 of Tear Me Down (Descent to Darkness Trilogy #2)

“Ashia!” she screams at me, and I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

“Well fuck, Ser, there’s been a lot going on!” I argue, and I hear as she takes a deep breath, thankfully freaking out for me so I don’t right now.

“I know. Let’s just chill and take a breath.” She’s silent for a moment and lets me take her respiratory advice. “So, when should you have your next one?” She asks a little calmer.

“Hold on.” I pull up the calendar on my phone and count.

Well fuck.

“Last week…” I say quietly, almost unbelievingly.

“Ashia!” she shrieks again, but I can hear as she huffs another breath, clearly trying to compose herself. “Shit. Okay, ummmm, are you having symptoms?”

“Well, you know I've been getting sick since the poisoning, so I thought it was just that. My boobs hurt, but that could be from all of the groping he's done lately.” I chuckle, though I’m not very amused .

“Yeah, but you have been really tired, oh and don’t forget moody. Well, and extra horny.” She starts listing off my symptoms with that unintentional smart-ass attitude.

“Again, could be the poisoning or stress from everything going on, and fuck yeah I'm horny, have you seen Damien?” I dispute.

“True, and ew, gross. Okay, I'll go buy some tests and hide them in your bathroom before you two get back. Don’t freak just yet, because the spotting very well could have been from stress and the birth control, and you’re right, the rest could be residual symptoms from the poisoning and your disorder.

” She tries to reason, but it doesn’t help.

It could be because my anxiety ridden brain is now focused on the possibility, but nothing else feels as clear and absolute as this answer does.

I stay silent for a minute, and she definitely picks up on it. “You okay?” she asks softly.

I’m not sure how to answer that. There are so many thoughts and worries running through my mind, yet a warmth settles in my chest to the thought.

This is something we both want, and the memories of Damien holding a baby conjure in my mind and cloud my thoughts with nothing but sexy images of my shirtless fiancé in ‘dad’ mode, but then all my worries rush in.

Not necessarily souring the thought, but there’s a lot of concerns in our world right now.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t want to say anything to him until I know.

I don’t want either of us getting our hopes up, and he’s already so worried about everything,” I admit quietly.

I know I should tell him; I just went through this whole rant last night about not hiding things from each other, but this feels different.

At least until I know something concrete.

“Okay, well you know I won’t say anything,” she quietly responds, throwing me for a loop.

“You calmed down pretty quickly.”

“Well, if anything does happen to Damien, you have me. I'll play Daddy.”

I roll my eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Ser.”

“I’m kidding, mostly.” She tries to play it off but can quickly tell I’m not amused.

“On a serious note, I know how long you've wanted a family. This is something you’ve always dreamed of having, and even if I think it’s with a crazy person, you're happy. I'm not going to act weird about that,” she says softly, and I can’t help but smile to myself as that warmth spreads through my chest again.

“You’re amazing. You know that?”

She giggles softly, obviously not able to handle any more of this serious conversation.

“Yeah, I know. Love ya, I'll tell you where I put the tests when you get home. ”

“Love ya too, thank you.” She makes a kissing noise as she hangs up the phone.

Holy shit…

I feel the excitement start to build in my chest, but I try to shove it down.

I can be excited when I know for sure. Well, excited and terrified …

I don't know if I would even be a good mom… I certainly don’t have much to go off of except for the Andersons and watching the moms that bring their sons into the shop, but I suppose I know what not to do.

Damien will be a great dad, but Serena’s right, what if something happens to him?

Should a kid really only be stuck with me?

How far along would I even be right now? With not one, but two missed periods?

Oh, God…

“Good morning, beautiful.” I’m startled by his words and the feeling of his hands wrapping around me.

“Good afternoon, you mean?” I giggle nervously, trying to play off my anxiety.

“Damn. How long did I sleep?”

“As long as you needed to, baby. I’ve got everything packed except some clothes for you for today, the place is clean from our adventures last night, and your lunch is in the oven almost done. I was going to wake you up when that was done anyway so we’re not late getting on the road.”

Jesus, ramble much?

“I'm staring at my lunch right now.” He starts kissing my neck, and I giggle softly to mask the sting from the bruises. “Holy shit.” He stops and I can feel him gazing over the marks. “Fuck, I'm sorry,” he mumbles and releases a small breath.

“No sir, you don’t get to feel bad. Last night was amazing. Not all bruises are bad ones.” I reach back and kiss him, but his face hardens and morphs into guilt.

“Where else are you bruised?”

“It doesn’t matter, Damien. It’s fine,” I say softly, trying to keep him calm.

Shit, if I am pregnant and he bruised me like this, he’d never forgive himself.

“Do I really need to rip those clothes off of you and look for myself, Ashia?” he warns with a sharp tone. I turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him close to me.

“Damien, it’s okay. I promise. They’re not bad, and it’s not like you hit or abused me.

We're fine, and hey, it was you that promised to bring me the pain I begged for, and I definitely begged for it.” I reach up and kiss him again, and he smirks.

“How’d you sleep?” I inquire, hoping to turn the subject some.

He takes a small breath and runs his hand up and down my side soothingly.

“Amazingly.”

“Good, do you feel a little better?”

He nods confidently.

“Much better.”

“You better not be lying to me.” I raise a brow, and he chuckles, because both of us know better than that.

“Never.” He kisses me again in a soft, sweet gesture. “Did you get sick again?”

A cold wave washes over me, almost ruining the moment.

“A little, not too bad.” I know I shouldn’t lie, but the moment I know one way or another, I’ll explain it to him. The little time that we have left of this getaway shouldn’t be ruined by something that I’m not even sure of yet.

“As soon as we get back we’ll call the doctor and get you in. Maybe even this evening before they leave for the day,” he suggests, and I shake my head lightly.

“I'm fine, really. It comes and goes. We’ll get a call in, but it’s okay that it’s not today.”

Actually, maybe I should tell him my suspicions.

He’d want to know, and maybe it’ll make him happy instead of turning into a paranoid worry-pit every time I get nauseous.

That, or maybe it’ll worsen his fears, and he’ll drive us home just to lock us inside for the next eighteen or more years.

Probably more. Plus, I don’t want to get his hopes up for nothing, just for me to crush them because of a wrong assumption.

Though, maybe he’d want to take the test with me?

That way we can find out together, and even if I’m not, I could be there to comfort him?

“Actually, Damien, there’s something…” His phone rings, interrupting me and a pang of disappointment hits me.

“I'm sorry, baby.” He takes a hand off to pull it out and answer it. “We haven’t left yet, Carter…” His face turns stern in only a matter of seconds, and a darkness settles like a fog.

Something is clearly wrong and it’s now soured the mood.

“What...? Okay, I'll call you back.” He hangs up and pockets his phone. His demeanor is suddenly focused and harsh, as if he’s already gearing up to storm into battle.

“What’s wrong?”

“Change of plans. We’re going to have to leave in a few minutes.”

“What’s going on?”

“The moles reached out and told Carter about a meeting tonight between Hugo, Avery, and the traffickers. We can take them all out in one swipe,” he says sternly, and I can tell that he starts to get antsy, looking around the cabin for anything else we may have to grab, and thinking of how quickly we can leave .

I focus on his face, and examine how upset he looks, how vengeful.

He’s clenching his jaw, and I feel his muscles tighten in anger beneath my arms. My immediate instinct is to soothe him.

Calm him down enough to think clearly and not make an irrational decision—one that might cost him his life.

I run my fingers through his hair to relax him and bring him back to the moment.

“I’m sorry, what were you going to say?” he says, trying to relax of his own accord, but I can see he’s struggling to maintain his composure.

This is what he’s waited on, and now that it’s within his grasp, he’s not going to be able to see anything else.

I can’t tell him now. He’ll be too distracted to carry out whatever plan to get Dranan, and I can’t have that, especially if I am pregnant.

He’d march right up to Dranan and shoot him in the face, regardless of what situation he'd walk into. He could get hurt, or worse…

“Nothing, baby. You get dressed and I'll get lunch.” I pat his chest and move to pull it out of the oven, watching as he immediately goes into his fight mode and storms through the cabin to gather our bags.