Igniting the Wild Sparks (11 page)

She’s quiet and I realize that sounded a little insensitive. I open my mouth to rephrase, but that’s when she finally snaps, “Really, Finn? I know that’s what you’re thinking, but do you have to actually say it like that?”

I close my eyes and shake my head against my hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said it that way.” Shit. Not good either. I just admitted she’s right.

Again.

She snippily says, “I told you, I won’t know for sure for another week or so.”

I try to be conciliatory. “I get that.”

“That means we’ll have to use something.” So she
is
going to sleep with me then?

Halleluiah!

Smiling, I try steadily responding, “I know. I didn’t throw them out.” I don’t want to sound overeager. She’ll definitely be even more ticked off at me.

“How fortunate for you. I thought you put an embargo on condoms and they weren’t allowed anywhere near your dick?”

Yep. Becks is still pissed off. I can’t win an argument against her.

Ever.

She’s another person in my life who likes to nail my balls to the wall on a daily basis.

Sighing, I plead, “Forget what I said Sunday. Baby, don’t be mad at me anymore. I’m sorry.”

“When you say things like that, it makes me question how you’re going to handle it if I do take a test and it comes out positive, Finn.”

I drop my hand and shift so my feet are on the floor. “I’ll be okay.
We’ll
be okay, Becks. I’ll learn to live with it.” Bowing my head, I dig my hand into my hair and stare at the brown carpet underneath my bare feet. This conversation is derailing fast.

She loudly disparages, “I cannot believe you keep saying shit like that! Would you be happy if I went and had an abortion?”

I immediately sit upright, beyond shocked at that suggestion. Does she think I'm a fucking monster?

“Fuck no, Becks! You can’t do that!” I’m surprised at myself for being so passionately against it, as well. I’ve always been taught it’s wrong to use as birth control, but I never thought I’d have to worry about it ever touching
my
life.

It’s not just that.

“Why? It would make things easier for you. Would you at least hold my hand when they turn the machine on?”

She can’t kill
our
baby.

I snap, “That’s enough! Having one of those is
not
an option. Don’t even
think
about doing it.” How’d we go down this fucking road?

She quietly replies, “I wouldn’t. I’m wondering if that’s what you’d want, though.”

“No. I’m not that vicious, Becks.” What the hell?

“What about adoption, then?”

I recline against the back of the couch, laying my arm across my forehead as I stare at the ceiling. “No. Can we not talk about this until we know for sure?”

“Until we’re sure? Would that be when I’m pushing our baby out in the delivery room? Will you talk about it then?” I didn’t think she’d be this upset with me. Shit.

“Becks, stop talking like that.”

Her voice falls. “I wouldn’t want to do this alone, Sparks. I’d need you with me the whole way.”

I nod against the back of the couch, shoving my hand through my hair, wishing we were talking in person instead of on the damn phone. “I will, Becks. I promise. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“You promise you won’t leave me even if we got ourselves into something that will change our lives forever? Are you willing to at least stay in my life to help raise a baby?”

“I’d be right by your side. Always, Becks.” She’d have a hard time getting rid of me.

“I’ll hold you to that, Sparks.” Closing my eyes, I smile at her borrowing my words again.

“You can. No matter what.”

Early Friday morning, I find myself sitting at my desk, my legs anxiously and annoyingly bouncing. I still can’t focus on work since Cara expressed her theories about Becks’ extracurricular activities with Greg Rodwell.

Tapping my fingers impatiently on my desk while my legs bounce, I search cabins, but I have no idea where to take Becks. If she is…pregnant, can I still take her up into the mountains? I’m fully unaware of pregnancy dos and don'ts. Can we even still have sex? I never thought of that. I don’t want to hurt her.

A couple hours later, I have locked down reservations for a cabin at Red River Gorge in Kentucky. It’s in the woods and not too high in the mountains. It also has a lake view and a hot tub like I promised her. No close neighbors, either.

The cabin is actually available in three weeks, which is perfect. I checked my schedule since Becks told me to make it so she can give a couple weeks’ notice at work. I decide to leave the reservations a secret and to coordinate with my second baseman about her assistant taking vacation days. The day before our trip, I’ll tell Becks to pack her bags and then whisk her off to the Kentucky Wilderness. I don’t need one of her chaperones coincidentally reserving a cabin nearby and crashing ours the whole trip. I want Becks all to myself. I’m constantly sharing her with someone, especially those two friends of hers. They suck up all of her time anymore. I barely get to see her.

How in the hell am I going to be able to keep it a secret?

I suppose just like the other secrets I’ve kept from her.

Checking my watch, I notice it’s lunchtime. Drake is doing the noon broadcast, so I’m free until my two interviews this afternoon. Most of the week during lunch, if I’m not on location, on camera, or even meeting Becks somewhere, I go down to the station’s in-house gym and run on the treadmill. It’s one of my favorite ways to relieve stress. Just as I start to get up from my desk, my cell phone rings and to my surprise, it’s Becks.

I recline back in my chair, smiling. “Hey, baby. What’s up?”

Her voice is uneven and she skips pleasantries. “Um, I was going to wait until later to tell you, but I thought I’d ease your mind now.”

Ease my mind? No. Something’s not good.

I promptly straighten, snapping my chair upright. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a small, shaky breath before whispering, “You dodged a bullet. You’re free and clear.”

Shaking my head and glancing around my empty, but shared, office, I ask, “What are you talking about?”

“I started, Finn. It’s a little early, but I got it. Your life isn’t ruined.”

I lean forward onto my desk, my head propped in my hand. “Baby, I… I didn’t say it would be ruined.”

She disregards my reasoning and passingly says, “Anyway, you can breathe a sigh of relief. I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Becks…” I know she’s disappointed. What do I say? I want to see her. “Do you want to have lunch?”

“I was just heading downstairs to go out with Morgan and Rod.” Fuck me.

“Can I go with you?” Not my favorite way of spending time with Becks, but aside from Easter weekend, it’s the only way I can be with her these days.

“If you want to drive over here. We’re going to that diner a couple blocks away. We’ll meet you there.”

“I’m leaving now.”

Checking my pockets for my wallet and keys, I go down to my car in a haze. My mind is buzzing. I’m disappointing her yet again. She wants me to want the same things she does, but I don’t know how to be what she needs. Apart from the whole wedding sham, how would I be the husband she deserves or the father to her children she craves? I’m not even close to being perfect. I’m so fucked up. I don’t want to pass that on to a kid. I’ll constantly be second-guessing myself or wondering if I’m good enough. I’m a shitty boyfriend, how would that translate to being a great husband? I can’t believe she’s stayed with me this long.

My mother is right, of course. I’m living in a fucking dream world if I truly believe Becks is going to stay with me without being married for much longer.

I’m either going to have to give in to her or give her up.

I can’t break up with her. I’m that selfish. I’ve said that I’d marry her if she wanted to dump me because of my refusal to take her to the altar, but would I really go through with it, even then? Or am I that cruel to keep her packed away instead of in a glass case where she should be admired like the precious gem she is?

Pulling into the lot at Sage’s Diner, I’m still not any closer to figuring out what I’m going to say to Becks. I don’t want to come off as too relieved because I am, yet there’s a small part of me that feels strangely let down, all the more so if was for potentially sharing a permanent bond with her. Something tangible that would always connect us.

If she were pregnant, how would I have reacted? Would’ve I been upset? Would I have surprised myself and been a little happy? If I ever change my mind, I want Becks to be the mother of my children. It’s weird to think that having sex with her could actually create a life. A life Becks and I made with our love.

I need to somehow cheer her up. Do I tell her about the cabin? Do I tell her we’ll try again?

Shit. What the hell am I doing? Why would I tell her we’d try again, when I don’t want to?

Because I’m a fucking jerk.

Heaving my hand into my hair as I shut my door, I stride over to the diner and walk in. The smell of hamburgers coldcocks me. I look around the nearly empty dining room and in a corner, I see the back of Rod’s head bobbing up and down. Morgan then smacks the back of his head and he pushes her away from him, making her laugh in turn. I wish Becks and I could be alone.

Sighing, I walk over. As I get closer to the booth, I notice Becks sitting across from Morgan and Rod. She looks pale and tired, her light brown hair appearing shades darker. Is she that upset about me failing to knock her up or is she just ragging it rougher than usual?

Fuck. There goes our weekend.

“Coach!” Rod greets me with a wave.

“Hey.” Becks scoots over and I slide in next to her. She briefly looks up at me, just long enough for me to lean over and kiss her lips. I wait for her to say something to me, but instead, she gives me a smile. However, it falters and she quickly averts her eyes before turning away from me.

Morgan slips her menu over to me. “We were waiting for you to order.”

“Thanks.” I sit back, adjusting my tie. I don’t even feel like eating when Becks is so upset.

Because of me.

Rod rhythmically pounds his fists on the table. “What are you ordering, Wilder? Morgasm is having the pint of blood and bat wing stew.”

Morgan shoves his face from the side. “And Rod’s having the knuckle sandwich, a can of whoop ass, a kidney punch, and a slow ride to a free clinic.”

“Sounds great,” I distractedly mutter as I observe Becks, who has her arms wrapped around herself, and her head bent, staring at the table. Reaching over, I rub her back and lean down to whisper in her ear, “Are you okay?”

She nods, but doesn’t look up.

The waitress stops at our table, and after grossly flirting with Rod and right before he has a chance to propose to her, she finally takes our orders. She apparently specializes in catering to the freaks.

As soon as she’s gone, Becks turns to me. “I’ll be back.”

“What’s wrong?”

She shrewdly frowns at me.
Oh
. Her monthly. Right.

I get up from the table and she slides out behind me, dragging her purse with her and heads to the restroom.

As I sit down, Rod asks, “Did your number one Finnatic tell you what she did to me this morning?”

“No,” I answer loosely, too enthralled with watching Becks walk away, wondering if she's okay.

“Well, normally if she’s in a bad mood, I usually ask if it’s her shark week.”

Morgan sets down her lipstick and mirror with a clatter, and I impulsively turn my attention to her. She suspiciously questions Rod, “Shark week?”

His face puckers in incredulity and he rolls his eyes. “Well, duh, Morticia,” he scoffs, shaking his head at her and then turning back to me, continuing, “Last time I asked Hadders that, she said I’d be the first to know when it was. I didn’t think much of it. Well, this morning she comes into my office, closing the door. I wasn’t paying too much attention to her because I was on the phone with one of Amos’ clients. As soon as I hung up, your better half climbed up on a chair, cupped her hands and yelled at me that she got her period. She then jumped down and left. That was one, rude wakeup call.”