Shattered & Mended (19 page)

I go back to check on Al, and they tell me she’s being worked on and will be transferred down to recovery soon. After they tell me she’s going to be okay, I fall to my knees and thank God. I thank him for protecting her and the twins. I thank him for the opportunity to be with Al as she delivered, despite my lie. And even though I despise him, I pray for Blake to make a full recovery. 

Twenty-Two 

~Allie~

“I truly am sorry, B.” All I’m able to do is apologize. He says that he’s forgiven me, and he just needs a night to calm down, but that’s hard to believe. I mean, no one’s that forgiving. You step on someone’s toes and they hate you for a week. You break a picture frame, and the person holds it against you for the rest of your life. Cheating? Well, isn’t it unforgivable? Some say that you can forgive but you don’t have to forget, but that’s not true. His forgiveness is just one of many reasons why I don’t deserve him.

He squeezes my knee. “I know, babe. I know you regret it, but I just need to clear my mind, okay? I’m upset with you, but him … he infuriates the fuck out of me. Even though I know you love me, I know you’re still affected by him. It kills me to know the power he has over you.” He continues driving through town, moving his free hand back and forth from my leg to my stomach. Aimlessly, I glance at the gorgeous and overly-expensive diamond as it glistens from the flashing streetlights. He shouldn’t have given this to me, not just yet. But I have to admit, it makes me feel secure in our relationship. He knew this; it’s why he insisted on placing it on my finger. It’s his promise to forget and to continue loving me. 

My phone blares through the silence of the car. Picking it up from the cup holder
, I answer it without looking at the screen to see who’s calling. “Hello,” I answer.

Allie! SSista from anotha missssta. Marga-to-my-rita … Milk to my ice cream ... I got you ice cream,” she sings, slurring her words terribly. I listen closely as I hear horns blowing and Sophie cussing.

“Soph, where are you?” Why do I even care? Because I’d be inhuman if I didn’t. Just because I’m angry with her doesn’t mean I don’t care. I know we’ll never be as close as we once were, but I can be civil.

You don’t stop loving a person over a night, months, or even years. In fact, I’m not sure it’s possible to stop loving anyone that you’ve loved at some point in your life. “It’s fucking hot!” she yells. I hear some shuffling, and I just know she’s removing some layers, which tells me her favorite man’s spanking her ass; the one and only, Jose Cuervo.

“Wait, are you driving?”

Blake snatches the phone from my hand. “Sophie, where the fuck are you? If you’re driving drunk … so help me God, you better not be,” he scolds. I take the phone back.

“Can you pull over, and we’ll come get you?” More honking, and then the sound of sniffling. Oh, hell, she’s crying. 

“I misss you, Allie Cat. I’m really fucking sorry. I’m a horrible person, I know, but I am sorry … promise,” she sniffles.

“Yeah, look, let us come get you,” I implore.

“I’m fine. I’m coming over, and I’m bringing you this ice cream. It’s cookie dough,” she sings. “But, you can only have some if you promise to forgive me.”

Great persuasion tactic, but it’s not gonna work. “I can’t promise you that.”

She sighs dramatically. Then, her mood changes from sorrowful and apologetic, to pissed off and head-biting. “When are you going to stop being such a puss about it, huh? I fucked him, so what? Get the fuck over it. You’re not with him! These lips were made for suckin’ dick, not kissin’ ass. Shit! It’s exhausting,” she huffs. 

“It’s not that you fucked him, Sophie! It’s the part where you became a pathetic and wicked whore, slipping drugs into people’s drinks and ruining their lives!” Just when I thought she was attempting to be sincere, she tries to make excuses for her inexcusable behavior.

“Don’t be such a cunt, Allie.”

I’m a cunt? Gah, I hate that word. “Erase my number from your contacts. I don’t want to see you, ever. Letting you into my life was the biggest mistake I ever made. Just … just … ugh! I. Hate. You.” I hear her gasp just before I end the call.

Blake’s hand travels gently along my spine. “You shouldn’t have been so cruel, babe.

She’s drunk.”

Why’s he defending her? “You know she raped Wyatt, don’t you? She put ecstasy in his beers
. Don’t defend her,” I snap.

“I’m not defending her. And no, I didn’t know she did that. However, you can’t put all the blame on her, baby. Wyatt had some say in getting his dick up.” Okay, he’s studied medicine, and he knows that ecstasy increases libido. And why is it so hard for people to believe that a woman can rape a man?

We’ve had enough tension between us for one night, so I swallow my words to refrain from sparking up another argument. Besides, the last thing I need is for him thinking I’m defending Wyatt, which I’m not. I just want him to understand that a woman can take advantage of a man; just as a man can a woman. We stop at a red light, and I lean over and kiss him, passionately. I trace the insides of his mouth with my tongue and drag my teeth across his bottom lip, and then I relax back into my seat. “You’re right,” I agree to disagree. 

“Blake?” 

“Yeah, babe?”

“Please, stay with me tonight.”

We don’t see each other enough as it is, and I really want to cuddle into his arms and forget everything that’s happened after the mind-blowing orgasm
he
provided me with earlier. He stares straight into the stop light with a stoic expression across his face. I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, but he’s hesitating. “Blake,” I whisper.

“Just answer me one question.” I’ll tell him anything he wants to know. The light’s turned from red, to green, to yellow, and back to red again. He adjusts himself so he’s facing me. He reaches over and places his hand over my heart.

“You say you love me, and I believe you, but I need to know if your love runs as deep as mine.”

What’s he talking about? Of course I love him, deeply. “It’s pretty deep,” I whisper, gazing deep into his eyes.

“You love me with your brain, but do I own your heart? Have you truly given your heart to me, Allie? Because I don’t know about you
, but my heart skips a beat every time you touch me, every time I hear you laugh. Hell, it even stammers at the mention of your name. And, I need to know that yours does the same.” 

I place my hand on top of his and press in deep into my swollen breast, enough to where he can feel my heartbeat. “You can feel for yourself. Kiss me,” I whisper. He does as I instruct and kisses me with the most heated and passionate kiss I’ve ever experienced. My lips tingle, and my insides explode with warmth. “Does that answer your question, Dr. Andrews? My heart beats only for you.”

He smiles against my lips as he feels my heart hammer against the palm of his hand. He rests his forehead against mine and gives me Eskimo kisses. I tangle my fingers into the back of his hair and pull his mouth to mine, feeling warm wetness travel down the sides of my face, but this time
, it’s not coming from me; they’re his tears. 

He lowers his head to kiss the top of my bump and gets a kick from one of the babies.

We burst out in laughter, and I wipe his damp face dry. “Let’s go home, baby,” he smiles. Thankfully, the town is a ghost town this late at night. Otherwise, I’m sure we would’ve gotten a few honks and fingers for blocking the road. He puts the car in drive and we drive home, together. 

Blake keeps his hand on the gear
shift and I place mine over his, softly tracing the back of his hand with my nails. The hairs on his arms stands, and he’s chewing on his lip. And even though he’s struggling to hide it, I can tell he’s turned on. I move my hand away from his to massage the inside of his thigh. As I reach over to kiss his cheek, he releases the steering wheel and forces me back into the seat with his arms. My body jerks forward at the sound of colliding cars and shattering glass, and I hold tight to Blake’s arms as he blocks the airbag from smashing into my stomach.

“BLAKE!” I scream as my car begins to flip onto its side, then onto its roof. His head’s bobbing in every direction as we turn over. Oh, God, this isn’t happening. My head collides with the roof of my car with each flip, and the seatbelt squeezes my waist as I’m jerked to and fro. Sparks fly as my car grinds across the asphalt. One. More. Flip. “AGHHHH!” What the fuck is that? Why is my stomach burning? Am I on fire? Oh, God … I. Can’t. Breathe. Why does my side feel like it’s being cut open? My vision’s blurred. Please, let it be from tears. My head’s spinning, hopefully from the motion. Please, no more movement. My eyes are heavy, closing unwillingly.

BLACK

I open my eyes and I’m upside down. Why? I have to get out. I can’t breathe. “Blake,” I call hoarsely.

He doesn’t answer.

My hands are pressed into the ceiling of my car, trying to relieve the pressure that’s in my chest. “BLAKE!” I scream. Still nothing. Oh, shit. No. Oh, God, please no. “Blake, please, help me,” I cry. Nothing. What the fuck is that? I pull down one of my hands and place it under my stomach, retrieving my biggest fear—blood. Where’s it coming from? 

I feel between my legs and breathe a little when I feel that I’m dry. I feel the sides of my stomach and slice my hand on something sharp. Holy shit! There’s glass sticking out of my side! “BLAKE!” I scream his name with all that’s within me. Still nothing. His body’s limp, and his head’s hanging to the side in an unnatural position. Blood covers his face, and I can’t see where it’s coming from. Obviously, it’s coming from his head, but where? I reach over to shake him. “Blake, please, I need you. We need you,” I sob desperately. 

The babies aren’t moving. I feel the blood rushing to my brain. I’m dizzy and I feel like I’m suffocating. Please, God, let him be okay. We need him, please. He’s bleeding profusely, and so am I. We’re going to die; I just know it. No one knows we’re out this late, and I don’t hear any evidence of traffic. I can’t even tell if we’re still on the road or not. My hands are going numb from all the weight they’re supporting, and I can’t reach around to unbuckle my belt. 

Blake’s breathing is shallow, but at least he’s breathing. “Please, please, please wake up,” I entreat. I want to reach out and touch him, but I can’t, not without causing more harm to myself or the babies. I’m fighting to stay awake, but darkness is taking me under, just as it did before. Each time I open my eyes, I whisper his name. “Blake.” I’m sure my whispers are inaudible, but it doesn’t keep me from trying my best to wake him, if he’s even wake-able. As I drift away, I hear a sound that’s music to my ears: sirens. And knowing that help’s on its way, I relax and submit myself to the darkness.

***

Soreness consumes my entire body. And ugh, the smell. This God-
awful smell reminds me of where I am. I bring my hands to my stomach and freak out when I feel that it’s deflated. What the fuck! Where are my babies? I pull my lids open and see my stomach is, indeed, baby--less. I lean up only to fall back into the mattress. Fuck! They delivered the babies. No, it’s too early. They aren’t ready. 

“Somebody, please, HELP!” I yell frantically. My stomach aches as my abs clench from yelling. No one’s coming, and if they are, they aren’t coming fast enough. I take advantage of the call button on the side of my bed, pressing it repeatedly and ignoring the voice that comes over the intercom. I don’t want to tell them how they can help me; they just need to get their asses in here and tell me where my damn babies are!

In the middle of my panic, Wyatt runs out of the bathroom and runs to my bedside. What the fuck is he doing here? “Shh, you’re okay.”

No, it’s not ‘okay’.

I take fistfuls of his shirt and pull him down to my face. “Where are Baylee and Blaine? Where are my babies?”

The nurse walks in just as I’m screaming in Wyatt’s face. “Oh, dear.” She walks over and pulls Wyatt’s shirt from my grip.

“Allie, you need to lie back,” she instructs.

I’ll lie back when they tell me where my babies are. “Please, I need to know what’s happened to my babies. Where are they?” 

“They’re down in the NICU. As you know, they’re premature. They’re small and having difficulty breathing on their own, so the NICU team is taking care of them. Now, please, lie back so I can take a look at your incision,” she persists. I lie back and she lifts my gown, exposing hideous white net-like panties. She presses into the bottom of my stomach, and I yelp in pain. She ignores me and continues to mush my stomach like she’s kneading dough.

“Shit! That hurts!” I smack her hands away from me. 

She approaches me cautiously as she lifts my gown higher, exposing my entire right side. She pulls at a bandage and removes it. When my eye catches sight of the red saturated bandage, I get queasy. “Is that from the glass?” I ask, remembering the excessive amount of blood that soaked my shirt.

She nods. “It was pretty deep,” she acknowledges. Deep and huge.

“When can I see them?” I need to see them for myself to know that they’re okay.

“Soon,” she answers.

“Where’s Blake?” I ask her, but she stares at me dumbfounded. Obviously, she has no clue who I’m asking about. I look to Wyatt. “Where is he?” He looks nervously between the nurse and me. “He, umm, he’s been admitted for a closed head injury.”

Why’s he nervous? “So, he’s okay?” I need for him to clarify why Blake’s been admitted. I remember him bleeding from his head and being unconscious, but surely he’s awake now. 

Wyatt fidgets with the cover that’s hanging off my bed. “Answer me, please.”