His eyes find mine. “Maybe we could at least––” I’m already shaking my head and he sighs. “Let’s at least try . . . for the baby.”
I scoff. “Drifter, you destroyed me.”
“I know that, Hell, but I’m trying here.” He lifts my legs and lowers onto the footstool, placing them on his lap. “I just want to be a part of your life again, and I need to be in hers.” He gently rubs my foot. “I’ll do anything.”
I pull my legs away, planting them back on the ground and sitting up. “You should’ve thought about that before you did what you did.” I feel my blood begin to boil again. I’m angry at him, at myself, at this situation. He’s doing all this nice stuff, and he’s making me question everything, making me doubt my decisions.
“Do you really expect me to think you can keep your dirty hands off those fucking whores when they’re flaunting their shit for the entire club day in and day out.” I stand abruptly. “Which, by the way, isn’t going to work when my daughter is here seeing it all.”
He twists in the seat, watching as I pace. “I’ll get rid of them all.”.
I throw my hands up in exasperation. “That doesn’t change the fact that you fucked a club whore behind my back. You’re just removing the temptation.”
He reaches for my hand, but I step back, and he sighs. “You need to calm down, Hell.”
“Fucking calm down?” I repeat, my eyes widening in annoyance. I bend down, pushing my face to his. “Fucking calm down? You promised there was nothing in it, and I believed you, and now, I feel like a fucking idiot.” I narrow my eyes. “How long was it going on behind my back?” A sudden pain shoots throughmy stomach and wraps around my lower back. I wince, inhaling sharply and pressing my hand to my bump.
Drifter is by my side in seconds. I feel his hand on my shoulder and shrug him away. “Get the fuck off me.”
“It was just the once,” he cries. “A mistake I’ll live with for the rest of my fucking life. But look at what this stress is doing to you.”
“You must think I’m fucking stupid,” I mutter.
“Please, Hell, sit down,” he begs, his brows pinching together with concern. I grimace again as another pain ripples across my lower abdomen. “Hell, you can search my phone. You can do whatever you need to do. But first, you need to calm down.”
Wetness spreads between my legs and I frown, glancing down. Water trickles onto the floor, and I snap my eyes to Drifter, panic rushing through me. Another pain rips through me, this time more intense.
Drifter senses my panic, and his hand finds mine. This time, I grip onto him like a lifeline.
“It’s too early,” I whisper, bracing as the next pain comes.
His other hand goes to my lower back, rubbing gentle circles. “We’re not gonna panic just yet,” he says carefully, but his face is the palest I’ve ever seen. “We just need to get you to the hospital,” he adds. His eyes betray him, revealing he’s just as scared as I am.
“Drifter, I can’t.” I lean into his shoulder, my tears rolling down my cheeks and soaking into his T-shirt. “What if?—”
“Nope,” he says firmly, shaking his head. “We aren’t thinking like that,” he adds, leading me to the door. “Where’s your bag?”
“In the bedroom by the door,” I sob.
He makes his way across the landing, pushing the door open and grabbing the bag. “Do we need to inform the hospital?” he asks, throwing it over his shoulder. I nod, sniffling as the gravity of what’s happening unsettles every fibre of my body. We triedso hard to get to this point, and now, at thirty weeks, my waters have broken. What the hell are we going to do if she doesn’t make it? I shudder at that thought. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I think of all the things that might have caused this . . . I should have calmed down. I should have taken it easy like Drifter said. I shouldn’t have pushed it.
And I haven’t been taking care of myself, not properly. I’m the only one to blame for this, for letting the stress of our relationship get to me. I’m responsible for taking care of this baby whilst it’s growing inside me, and I know deep down, I haven’t done everything I could have to prevent this.
We carefully descend the stairs. “Stop,” Drifter says, giving me a side glance. “I can hear those cogs in your head turning,” he adds. “Remember, I know you well, and this isn’t your fault.”
A small sob escapes me, and he stops at the bottom of the stairs, lifting my chin to look me in the eyes. I close them tightly, and his warm hand cups my face, his thumb stroking my cheek.
“Open those eyes,” he whispers, and I slowly open them, swallowing hard. “This isn’t your fault, okay?” I don’t reply, just stare at him blankly. “Hell?” When I still don’t answer, he continues, “If anything, this ismyfault. I’ve caused all this stress.Fuck, I am so sorry.”
He rests his hand on my stomach, and his own eyes fill with tears. He swallows hard, composing himself. “This isn’t on you, okay?” I nod before he leads me off to the car.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DRIFTER
The engine idles at the traffic light, and it feels like an age for them to change. There are no words right now that can ease her pain and anguish. And I know she’s worried because it’s written all over her face.
My heart pounds heavily in my chest, causing sickness to swell in the pit of my stomach. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white.
