Fix it…
She closed her eyes, a part of her, such a big part,wantinghim to fix it. But then a memory played in her head. Of a night that still haunted her. A night when she’d called him,needed him, and he hadn’t come. Hadn’t even answered her call.
She yanked her arm away, and the second his hand fell, her skin felt cold. A cold that slipped deep inside her.
“You can’t fix it, Lock.” Her words sounded as hollow as she felt. She opened the door but didn’t look at him, because she was scared that if she did, she’d cave and fall back into his arms. That she’d let him convince her the past hadn’t happened. But it had, and it would forever be a part of her. “Please go.”
He didn’t move, and the beats of her heart grew frantic and uncontrolled. Her breathing became shallow.
She couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now.
“I need you to go,” she pushed, desperate.
“Okay.” His tone was soft, like he understood how close she was to breaking. And maybe he did. He’d always read her better than anyone else. “But I’ll be back. We’re not finished, Callie. We’ll never be finished.”
He stepped outside, and it was only when he was out of sight that she finally closed the door. Her fingers shook as she clicked the lock. Then she dropped her chin to her chest and let the air rush out of her.
She’d missed him. God, she’d missed him so much.
But that night when he hadn’t answered her call, she’d promised herself never again. That she would never make herself vulnerable to a man who couldn’t be there for her at her worst moment ever again. No matter how much her heart told her she still loved him.
CHAPTER 3
Pain punched through Callie’s belly, tugging her from dead asleep to wide awake. She groaned as she rolled to her side and grabbed her stomach, eyes scrunching as she panted through the ache.
What was happening? It felt like cramping but worse. So much worse.
Something between her thighs had her body freezing. A wetness.
Oh God.
Fear crawled up her throat, shaking her limbs and making it hard to breathe.
With trembling hands, she reached over and switched on the bedside lamp. A part of her didn’t want to pull back the covers, because she knew what she’d see, and she knew exactly what it would mean.
But she had to. She had to see.
She tugged the sheets back.
Crimson blood. It soaked her thighs and bled into the bed, so stark against the crisp white of the sheets. She touched it, as if needing confirmation that it was there and real.
Red colored her fingertips, sticking to her skin like glue.
Real…this was real.
Another cramp hit her belly, this time more painful, making her groan and lean forward.
She gulped air and blindly reached for her cell on the bedside table. Her fingers shook so violently that she knocked it to the floor.
Shit.
She leaned down and picked it up, barely able to see the screen through the tears. Everything hurt, not just her belly. A deep, emotional pain that made the world around her a blur.
The screen smudged with red prints from her fingers as she unlocked the cell, making nausea rattle in her belly.
Lock. She needed Lock. She needed to hear his voice. For him to tell her that she’d be okay. She needed his touch and his comfort. For almost three weeks, she’d been calling and he hadn’t answered. This time he had to answer.
She hit his name. The phone rang. Then it rang again. Every ring sounded louder, cutting through the silence of the room.
