Tame: Carter Kids #3 (26 page)

My head was spinning.

The crowd screaming around me was causing my brain to throb like a drum.

The scent of sweat mixed with tobacco and alcohol around me meant inhaling through my nose was out of the question. Using my cardigan as a shield, I breathed through my mouth, managing to tolerate the lavender scent of laundry detergent. My stomach was up in a heap, and I knew if I smelled the stench in this arena one more time, I was going to barf.

Cameron and Colton, who were sitting to my right, were so engrossed in the fight taking place just a few feet from us that they didn’t notice my horrified expression, but Logan, who was on my left, did.

Leaning closer to me, Logan whispered, "Are you okay?"

"I don't think so, Low," I choked out as my stomach twisted inside of me.

Just then, Noah's opponent – the young red headed guy in the blue trunks – landed a left hook to my husband's face.

Blood splattered everywhere.

I was pretty sure I heard bone crush and the crowd went wild.

Slapping a hand over my mouth, I closed my eyes and held my breath, hoping the wave of nausea would pass.

It didn't.

"Come on," Logan said in a surprisingly gentle tone. Standing abruptly, he took me by the arm and led me through the crowd. "Let's get you out of here."

Like a magnet, Lewis stood and trailed after us.

With my hand covering my mouth, I allowed myself to lean against Baby Carter. Right about now, he was the only thing keeping me upright.

Noticing my weakness, Logan wrapped his muscular arm around my body, taking my weight for me.

"Nearly there," he said as he hustled us through the crowds towards the out of access area that led to the changing rooms.

"Surprise!" Lucky chanted the moment we stepped inside Noah's changing room. His smile quickly morphed into a concerned frown. "Teegs, what's wrong?" His gaze flickered to Logan and he frowned, clearly puzzled. "Who's this?"

"I think I'm going to be sick,” I whispered weakly.

Everything was spinning.

The ground.

The walls.

The ceiling was closing in on us.

I could hardly breathe...

Knowing I wasn't going to make it to the bathroom, I broke out of my burly bodyguard's arms and dropped to my knees just as the contents of my stomach spewed out of my mouth.

"Jesus," I heard Lucky say from somewhere behind me and then a pair of strong arms were around me.

"Good girl," Logan's voice was in my ear, praising me in a rare, soothing voice as he knelt beside me and pulled my ponytail out of the firing line. "Get it up."

I wanted to say ‘welcome home’ to Lucky and tell him how much I'd missed him, but I couldn’t. Retching, I continued to vomit, right there in the middle of Noah's changing room, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop myself. 

"Go and find a doctor, Lewis," Lucky ordered. I could hear the concern in his tone. I could feel the tension emanating from him. "Hurry up."

"I'm on orders not to leave her," Lewis was quick to reply.

"Fine," he snapped. "I'll get one."

Lucky opened the dressing room door, letting in the screams and bellowing roars of the crowd. Thankfully, when he closed the door behind him, the sound died down a little.

"Sounds like the boss man won," Lewis mused from somewhere behind me.

I wanted to give him a thumbs up, but I was too busy dying on the floor at his feet.

"Good girl," Logan continued to coax, holding onto me as I threw my guts up.

"I'm…sorry for puking on you," I managed to squeeze out through fits of heaving when I noticed the condition of his jeans.

Logan chuckled softly. "I've had worse, Teegs," he comforted me, rubbing my back with one hand. "Don’t worry about me."

The screams and cheers from the arena grew louder and louder until they were almost deafening.

"What's happening – ugh, Christ," Colton's voice filled my ears followed by the roar of the crowd. The door closed behind him, muffling the crowd some. "Hey, Beautiful." The middle triplet approached me with caution. Dropping down to his haunches, Colt patted my shoulder with his hand. "Are you alright?"

"What do you think, douchebag?" I heard Cameron sneer seconds before he entered my peripheral vision. "There's more of her on the floor than inside her body."

I had a feeling Cameron was right.

Even though I'd left everything inside of me on the changing room floor, I continued to dry heave, unable to regain control of my upchuck reflex.

"Not helping, Cam," Logan hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're right, Low. You're right," Cam muttered, tone panicked, as he disappeared from sight once again. "I'll go…ah…get Noah."

The door opened again as Cameron exited the room and an African American woman entered with Lucky hot on her heels.

"I'm Doctor Reinhart," she announced to Lewis who had decided to play guard dog around my barely breathing corpse. "I'm here to help."

Obviously, Lewis decided he could trust the doctor, because he stepped aside.

"How long have you been sick, Teagan?" Dr. Reinhart asked.

"Just today," I whispered, as Logan, Lucky, and Lewis continued to hover nearby. "But I've been feeling…off…for a w-while now."

"How long is a while?"

"A month," I offered, gawking. "Maybe two."

My whole life…

Setting a black leather bag down beside her, she proceeded to feel my face, asking me a string of questions I had a hard time answering when my mouth was heaving uncontrollably.

"Where is she?" The sound of Noah's booming voiced filled my ears. "Thorn!"

"I'm here," I called out weakly, searching the room for him.

The minute Noah's eyes landed on me, he visibly sagged in relief and he quickly closed the gap between us in three long strides.

With another man's blood on his hands, my husband knelt beside me, head bowed, looking both vulnerable and indestructible. His face was all beat up. His body was drenched in sweat and, with the exception of a pair of black fighting shorts, he was completely naked.

"You good, Thorn?" he croaked out, tone gruff, as his hands wandered over my face and neck.

I shook my head weakly and forced myself to smile, hiding the blusterous emotions inside of me. "I'm not too good, Noah," I whispered. "I think you're kneeling in my vomit."

Sighing heavily, Noah wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb before dragging me onto his lap. I groaned in pain. Moving made everything inside of me twist and churn.

"Shh," he whispered, wrapping me up in his arms.

Sagging against my husband's body, I buried my face in his chest and forced myself to breathe through my mouth.

The smell of vomit was making me feel queasy.

"Mr. Messina," Dr. Reinhart acknowledged kindly. "My name is Doctor Aubree Reinhart." She held out a blood pressure monitor. "Do you mind?"

Reluctantly, Noah nodded and released his hold on me so the doctor could check my blood pressure.

"I assume you're sexually active, Mrs. Messina?" Dr. Reinhart asked as she examined me.

I nodded weakly, way too sick to feel any embarrassment at having this conversation in front of Lewis, Lucky, Colton, and Logan who were still present and hovering over me like four guard dogs.

"And birth control?" she asked as she administered a shot into my arm. "Are you on any specific method?"

"Just…" I empty reached again.

"Condoms," Noah filled in for me, holding back my hair. "Only some of the time."

I tried to scramble out of his arms, not wanting him to see me like this, but he wouldn't let me go.

"Uh-huh… and when did you last menstruate?" she asked. "Do you have a regular twenty-eight-day cycle?"

"My periods are all over the place," I groaned weakly. "I've been irregular since my teens."

"Aaaand that's a rap," Colton groaned from somewhere behind me.

"Yeah, hold the door for me," Lucky added queasily. Lewis was the last to leave, after Logan, announcing in his deep barrel of a tone that his job didn't include delving into the female reproductive system. 

"Sorry about them," I muttered sheepishly as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "They're not used to…women."

Whatever the good doctor had stuck me with was working at a rapid rate because I was able to straighten up without heaving.

"I'm used to it," Dr. Reinhart chuckled. "Men are such fickle creatures." Picking her bag up off the ground, she approached the bench. "You can help her up, Mr. Messina."

Noah immediately stood up, taking me with him.

Walking over to the bench, he gently sat me down beside the doctor.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a panicked tone when I grunted.

"Yes," I whispered, clutching my stomach.

"Okay, give me the bad news," I choked out. Her silence was telling and panic flared inside of my heart. "There's something really wrong with me?"

"On the contrary." Reaching into her bag, Dr. Reinhart pulled out a rectangular shaped box and handed it to me. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you."

I stared down in horror at the box in my hand.

Nine letters to terrify me to my very core...

"I'm not," I whispered, feeling sick all over again. "No fucking way."

My eyes immediately went to Noah's face.

He was standing stock still and frozen to the spot, staring down at the box in my hands.

"Well you could be suffering from a bad stomach flu," Dr. Reinhart offered kindly. "However, given your age and sexual status, I would strongly urge you to take a test to rule out pregnancy."

There was that word again… that scary nine-lettered word that crawled over my heart like a tarantula.

"And do you think taking a test will rule…it…out?" I choked out as I desperately tried to count my dates, but I couldn't think straight.

I'd had a period…last month, or was it the month before?

I was never regular.

In fact, I was used to going three months at a time without a period, which was why I didn't panic when Mother Nature didn't arrive. 

Dr. Reinhart smiled. "Possibly."

"You don't, do you?" Groaning, I dropped my head in my hands.

"Do it in your own time," Dr. Reinhart said kindly.

Standing up, she retrieved her bag and said, "But do it," before leaving me on my own with my mind going ninety to the dozen and my husband doing a fantastic imitation of a statue.

"I'm calling a doctor," Noah announced, bursting to life. Pacing around the changing room like a deranged lunatic, he hissed, "I'm taking you home and I'm calling a goddamn doctor."

"I've already seen a doctor," I offered weakly.

"Well, another one then!" Noah snapped. He disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a handful of wet paper towels. "Put those on your forehead," he ordered before dropping to his knees in front of me. "If you've got a fever, it will help cool you down."

"I don’t have a fever," I shot back, though I kept the paper towels pressed to my brow. "I'm
okay
," I added. "Dr. Reinhart said I'm fine."

Actually she'd said I was more than fine…

"Are you going to take it?" he asked me, tone gruff, eyes wild and panicked.

I knew what he was talking about and I wished like hell he understood that I
couldn’t
talk about it.

"Don’t," I begged, clenching my eyes shut. I needed a minute. I couldn’t take it all in.

"Thorn," he argued. "We have to deal with this.

"No." I shook my head. "We don’t." Not right now. "Not tonight."

"We need to know."

"And if I am, then where do you propose we raise it?" I cried out, frantic. "In a different hotel room every bloody night?"

"Stop panicking," he replied in a passionate tone. Clamping his hands down on my thighs, Noah looked deep into my eyes. "Whatever happens, I'll take care of you, Thorn."

"So in other words, you'll dump me in a mansion on my own to bring up your spawn while you live the high life?" I shot back, red-faced and irrational. "I'm not starting a family – not until you're finished fighting." Noah opened his mouth, no doubt to protest, but I quickly carried on. "I'm not bringing a child into this world who could become fatherless."

It was a very real possibility.

My husband was a professional MFA fighter.

He put his life on the line every time he stepped into the cage...

"You don’t get to decide this, Teagan," Noah shot back, losing all patience and tact with me.

"I'm scared to find out," I admitted.