Read Making the Cut Online

Authors: Anne Malcom

Tags: #Adult, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Man-Woman Relationships, #Mystery, #Romance, #Romantic, #Suspense

Making the Cut (44 page)

BOOK: Making the Cut
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“Gwen. I need to explain about before with…”

I held my hand up, halting him. “Cade my brother is dead. Do you think I care you fucked some whore?” I said, my voice flat.

Cade flinched, I regarded his stricken face feeling detached. He stood, towering over me in my bed, his hand going down to cradle my stomach above the blanket.

“Gwen you need to know…” He started again.

“I don’t need to know anything!” I all but screamed, my voice ragged. I took a deep breath. “I don’t need to know anything but the fact my brother is dead. I will never see him again. My baby will never get to know their uncle. All I need right now is to get out of here so I can go home.” My voice was back to the flat, emotionless tone I think I might come to adopt.

Cade sat on my bed carefully, stroking my face again. I didn’t push him away, didn’t respond to his touch. I just stared at him blankly.

“Gwen, the idea of flying that far, with the complications with the baby…I can’t have either of you in any kind of danger.” He was trying to treat me with care, but it didn’t stop what his true meaning is to fire up a spark inside me.

“I would
never
put my baby in danger.” I hissed.

“I know you wouldn’t Gwen, but you won’t be able to control what happens when you get on that plane.” His voice brokered no argument, but hell if I wasn’t giving him one.

“You’re right. I don’t have any control. I don’t have control over the fact my brother is dead, that my parents are beyond devastated, that my heart is broken. And I can’t control the fate of my baby, as much as I wish I could shield it from everything in this world, I can’t. We could die in a car crash on the way to the airport. I can’t control that. But I would never let anything in my control hurt my child, or even give anything the possibility of hurting
my child.
There is no way you have any say in my staying here once I get the all clear from the doctor, I need to go home and help my parents bury their son. I need to bury my brother.”

I didn’t allow the expressions on Cade’s face permeate. I didn’t allow him to speak.

“I need you to leave.” I told him flatly, eyes on the ceiling.

“I’m not fucking going anywhere.” Cade’s voice was concrete.

The fire that had so quickly sparked inside of me withered, the strength to fight him just wasn’t in me. I was too busy using it to try and fight the grief that was crushing my chest. Too busy trying to fight off the reality that my brother was actually gone. So I just ignored him, stared past him, to the monitors that showed my baby’s heartbeat. I focused on that, clinging to that little sound like it was my lifeline. Cade was talking, stroking my face, kissing my head. I ignored him.

“Gwen.” He softly grabbed my face, pulling it close to his, forcing my gaze away from the monitor. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the door opened and Amy burst in. She stood at the door, her face red and splotchy, eyes rimmed red, pain etched into every inch of her body. We just looked at each other a beat. A single tear ran down my best friend’s cheek.

“Gwennie.” She choked before rushing to the bed. She didn’t even acknowledge Cade who stood to let her crawl in next to me. She sobbed quietly, her body shaking next to mine, I held onto my best friend for dear life.

 

Amy clutched my hand as the plane touched down. I looked over at her makeup free face and attempted a weak smile.

“Well we made it home and this little one has behaved.” I put my hand over my stomach, letting the relief wash over me. She squeezed my hand and looked down at my stomach.

“I expected nothing less from our super baby.” She attempted a jaunty wink, but couldn’t hide the raw pain the lurked beneath her eyes. Yet again she was trying her best to take care of me, help take on my grief when her own threatened to drown her. I sighed, gazing out to the tarmac and into the windows of the airport that held my parents. I yearned for the comfort of my mother’s arms, the strength from my father’s embrace. I was also dreading the moment I saw them. The moment I saw the loss in their faces, the point where this would all become real. The moment when my blissed numbness would crack away to reveal the agony that threatened to destroy me.

The last few days had been a blur. I had stumbled through them like a zombie, unable, unwilling to feel anything. I was detached, my emotions unplugged.

I had ended up having to stay overnight at the hospital and Cade never left my side, sleeping in the chair beside my bed, while Amy lay beside me. I paid him little notice, clutching Amy’s hand, lying wide awake with my eyes glued to the ceiling. I knew he watched me most of the night, I could feel his gaze on me. When I was discharged I discovered the entire club camped in the waiting room. Even Steg, I guess that would’ve surprised me had I not been blissfully detached. I would’ve also been touched by the concerned faces, the loving and thoughtful words coming from the staunch bikers, but I woodenly stared past them all, clinging to my little world of unfeeling.

Amy had arranged her father’s jet to be ready as soon as I was discharged, having my essentials packed and ready to go when she picked me up from the hospital. We were meant to be leaving straight from there, and Cade all but exploded when he learned this.

 

He was pushing me in my chair to the curb when Amy pulled up. She jumped out of the car and directed a glare at him; someone had obviously filled her in.

She wiped the scorching look off her face and smiled down at me weakly.

“I’ve got everything we need for our trip Gwennie, Daddy’s jet is waiting for us at a small airstrip outside of town and it’ll take us to LAX where we’ve got the next plane to Auckland. Daddy also insisted we take his doctor with him on the flight. Just in case.” She looked at my stomach and leant down to help me up, pointedly ignoring Cade who stopped her with a hand on her wrist.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing Amy? You can’t just take the mother of my child away halfway across the world. Wherever she goes I go.” He growled, fury saturating his tone.

Amy raised an eyebrow and glared down at the tattooed arm covering hers, her look turned glacial.

“You take your hand off me right now.” She hissed and continued to help me up when Cade complied. I could feel him gripping my shoulder.

“I can and I will take Gwen back to her
family
, and her
home
, to the people that love her. In case you have forgotten she is going to attend the fucking funeral of her only brother.” She snarled and I felt a blade go through my soul.

“It just happens to be convenient that her home is as far away from you that is humanly possible, and a silver lining in this fucking nightmare is the fact that you are a criminal with a record which means you aren’t going
anywhere.”

Without waiting for a response she gently helped my stand from the chair directing me away from Cade, and the men who had stopped behind him. The men I considered family.

“Jesus Gwen, wait.” Cade pleaded. The grief and anger in his voice made me turn.

I put my hand on Amy’s arm. “It’s okay Amy.” My voice was still cold, flat.

She glared at Cade then took her hands off me. As soon as that happened, Brock surged forward, pulling her away and hissing frantically in her ear. I didn’t move an inch, Cade was on me in one stride, framing my face with his hands. His eyes locked with mine, face hard and soft at the same time.

“Baby, Gwennie. Just give me some time to sort this shit out. I’m coming with you. You are not facing this without me. I won’t let you go through this without me.” He words were firm, his tone a promise. “I love you to the depths of my soul. The baby too. I won’t let you go through a second of this without me by your side.” He finished softly, hand caressing my belly.

I stared back at him, the love, concern, anguish in his eyes failing to affect me. My emotions were locked up deep inside me I couldn’t let them out. I couldn’t have the loss coursing through my veins like a poison. I was afraid I wouldn’t survive.

“You need to let me go.” I responded flatly.

His arms tightened on my neck. “Baby
please
.” His voice almost broke and his stare burned into mine.

“Let me go now, I have a plane to catch.” I watched him flinch at my tone. What he didn’t do was let me go.

“Gwen…”

“Let me go!” I screamed in his face, my voice cracking.

Someone grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away. I took my chance and hopped into the door that Amy was holding open for me, she had obviously managed to pull herself away from her own angry biker. I watched as Cade fought off Bull, yelling, throwing punches never taking his eyes off me. Lucky and Brock joined in, struggling to hold him back. Unable to watch anymore I turned my head as Amy drove away.

 

That was about 21 hours ago. I had barely slept, my mind going over everything and nothing at all. Thoughts, memories tugging at the corners of my mind, refusing to let me welcome oblivion.

Amy and I disembarked, walking along the tarmac of the small airport. The mountains of home surrounded me like a warm blanket, even with the bitter winter wind biting at my skin. We emerged at arrivals and I zeroed my parents out immediately. My usually immaculate mother was wearing faded jeans and a hoodie, her face free of makeup, eyes rimmed red, she looked gaunt and grief had settled over ever inch of her small frame. My father was staunch, strong, as usual, his arms around my mother. His eyes were the only things that betrayed him. They were full of sorrow and devastation. All of a sudden I was engulfed in my mothers arms.

“Oh Gwennie, my baby.” She sobbed clutching me to her.

I felt my fathers strong arms circle around us both, I looked up at him to see his eyes glistening as he kissed my head. I clung to what remained of my family.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 18

2 months later

“You know what Mum, I think this gardening thing is actually growing on me.” I informed her, my hands digging through the soil. I held them up, inspecting my nails, which were caked with dirt. “Even if it destroys my manicure.”

My mother smiled. “Well it has only taken 25 years.” She replied dryly.

“And you are supposed to wear gloves.” She waved her bright pink flowered ones.

I turned my attention back down at the soil and sighed. “I like the feel of it between my fingertips, it’s…soothing.”

My mother’s smile turned sad, I could tell her thoughts were turning to worry. And grief.

“Gwennie. Sweetheart, you know you need to talk, you can’t keep this bottled up. You haven’t even cried since the funeral.” Her voice was wobbly.

She was right. I hadn’t shed a tear since they had put my brother in the ground. Hadn’t spoken a word of him if I could avoid it, I couldn’t. I couldn’t open that dam, because I was afraid if I did I could never plug it back up. I couldn’t let myself let go of the carefully put together pieces of my soul. I would shatter.

I stood up abruptly, dusting my hands off on my already dirty dress.

“Mum I don’t need to talk okay? Just let me be. Please stop pressuring me when I don’t have anything to say.”

She stood too, eyes glistening. “Gwen…” she looked as if she was going to push it.

“Okay my two best green thumbs, time to go, I’ve got us booked in for three.” Amy stood on the porch, her heels not permitting her from venturing onto the grass.

I would have laughed if I had had the ability, my Mahattanite best friend may have settled into life in the country alright but she was yet to adopt the gumboots that were second nature around here.

“What are you smirking at Martha Stewart? I know for a fact you are in desperate need of a manicure.” She shot at me.

Amy was trying as hard as she could to hide her grief. But it leaked out every now and then. I would watch her face grow dark and tears well in her eyes when something she said or did reminded her of…him. I was trying to ignore my own suffering as best I could so I focused on hers, she lost him too. The man she loved. We were both as broken as each other, trying to hide our wounds as best we could. The breeze rustled my dress and my thoughts ventured downward to the round bulge of my stomach.

“I’m coming, just give the pregnant woman some slack, I’ll be waddling soon.” I made my way through our garden, Mum at my side.

“Soon?” Amy raised a brow. “I think I detect a slight waddle now.”

I gasped, grabbing my mother’s hand, turning to her in horror.

“Did you hear that Mum? She said I
waddled
. I’m not waddling. Am I?” I asked desperately.

My mother smiled through the pain that was in her eyes and touched my stomach lightly. “Well I wasn’t going to say anything…” She joked, sneaking a glance at my so called best friend.

“Oh you two are pieces of work, making fun of the pregnant lady. You do get how delicate my hormones are right now? And that I am holding gardening scissors?” I glared at them both, shaking my weapon threateningly.

My mother rolled her eyes lovingly. “
Shears,
my doll they are called shears.”

BOOK: Making the Cut
7.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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