“Pregnant?!” he echoes back in disbelief.
“Yeah, and I unfortunately miscarried when I was visiting my friend in Boston. That’s why I’m home.”
“Are you—” he starts but huffs out a breath. “Do you need—” he cuts himself off again, sighing. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. I just needed to be home for a few days.”
Kyle clears his throat. “I understand. And I’m sorry to hear about your miscarriage.”
“Um, thanks,” I mumble, swallowing past the swell of emotion.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the line before Kyle lets out a heavy sigh. “Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, Taevin. Maybe this was God’s way of telling you you’re truly not meant to be with Jackson.”
I rear my head back. “How could that be? The only real reason we’re not together right now is because his father is terrible. I’m fairly certain he’s the devil disguised as a senator.”
“Isn’t that the case with most politicians?”
His blasé tone grinds on my last thread of patience. Did he just really imply that my miscarriage was God’s attempt to break Jax and I up for good?
When I don’t respond after nearly a minute, Kyle apologizes. “Look, I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right. What I should’ve suggested was that you should take a few days and then when you’re ready, come back to Nashville and pour your heart into new music. Maybe then something good can come from this.”
I couldn’t possibly write about my miscarriage.
Instead of telling Kyle that, I decide to end this phone call as quickly as possible before I say something that will likely ruin the only thing I have going for me right now.
“Yeah, maybe,” I placate him with a lie. “I’m going to try to take a nap. It’s been a long few days and I’m still in quite a bit of pain.”
“Of course. I’ll let you go so you can rest up.”
After mustering a quick goodbye, I hang up and toss my phone onto my bed before crawling under the covers and wishing there was something that could ease this pain and the heartbreak threatening to consume me.
I’d do anything to numb the ache so I never have to feel this way again.
35
Now
The fire crackles and I watch with fascination as the embers dance in the air before turning to ash. Curling my legs beneath me, I burrow my body further into Jackson’s side.
This last round of chemo hit me the hardest of any of them. The combination of the nausea, weakness, and exhaustion have me feeling like I’m withering away to nothing.
A chill seeps beneath the fuzzy blanket Jax draped over me when he put another log on the fire.
“You still cold, baby?” he asks, covering my one frigid hand with his warm one.
“Yeah, I can’t seem to get warm no matter how many layers I put on and no matter how many fuzzy blankets and fires you make me.”
“Would some hot cocoa help?”
A soft smile curves the corners of my mouth. “I’m pretty sure hot cocoa cures everything.”
“Well, in that case, hold tight,” he tells me, lifting off the couch. I pout at the loss of his warmth and bring the blanketup to my chin and do my best to fend off the chills that have replaced his body warmth.
From his spot in front of the fireplace, Connor’s head shoots up and he tilts it to the side in the most adorable way.
“It’s okay, boy. Daddy’s just getting Mommy some hot chocolate. I’m sorry, but you can’t have any.”
Connor takes that as his cue to go in search of Jax, and I laugh as he waddles into the kitchen.
