Crave Me (The Good Ol' Boys #4)(94)

I sat there pleading with someone I wasn’t sure existed, but I had to try and believe. Try to make this right, when all of it was so wrong. I don’t know how long I was there on my knees waiting for I don’t know what.

A sign?

I got to my feet, looking at Jesus on the cross and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Before turning to leave.

I cruised through the streets of New York fighting the urge to drive back home, tears still streaming down my face. I turned around several times and headed to my safe place, trying to block out the girl’s voice on the GPS telling me I was going the wrong way. But she was right. Home was the wrong way and I had to stop running.

I pulled up to the clinic just after one and sat there looking at the sign through blurred eyes. My thoughts raging a war in my head. I closed my eyes, leaning my head on the cool steering wheel, trying to catch my breath. Breathing in and out. Telling myself that this was the right decision, pleading for my mind to console my heart.

Before I knew it, I was out of the car and walking in. The door binged as I opened it, startling me out of my hazy state. I walked up to the receptionist, gave her my name and was told to take a seat.

I sat in the lobby of the doctor’s office, waiting for my name to be called. It broke my heart to see all the women awaiting the same fate.

Words couldn’t describe the emotions coursing through my body, the turmoil and doubt that had taken residence inside of me. The last two weeks weren’t like anything I had ever experienced before. I would hate myself for the rest of my life for going through with this. But I would hate myself even more, if Heaven forbid, something happened to me and my child would be left to an addict and the god of organized crime.

As each patient was called back, my heart sped up more and more. Another piece of me dying little by little. I knew it would be my turn soon and as much as I wanted to get this over with, I was also terrified. My legs were bouncing nervously, the anticipation killing me. I got out of my seat to grab another magazine that I was blankly looking through.

There were no words to describe the pain I felt in my heart at that moment. What I had been going through alone.

Always alone.

Bing.

I walked out of the office, needing some air. I crouched down near the curb, all of a sudden feeling like I was going to be sick. I clenched my only lifeline in my hand, contemplating calling Austin. My heart was pounding out of my chest, there was a ringing in my ears and the world in front of me began to spin. I dry heaved a few times, only then remembering I hadn’t had breakfast that morning. I slid my phone open and pressed recent calls. Austin’s name was the first on the list, staring at me, judging me. I was just about to press send when the door behind me binged again, making me jump and drop my phone onto the sidewalk.

I’d known I was pregnant for a week the day of the party. I wasn’t feeling well for a few days, but I honestly thought it was from everything that was going on with Austin. I blamed it on the stress, the nerves, and the emotional mayhem causing my body to shut down. I didn’t want to eat. I was always nauseous and just felt like shit in general. I went to the doctor hoping she could prescribe me some antibiotics or something to make me feel better.

When I told her my symptoms, she immediately asked me when my last period was. That’s when it hit me that I was late. Right then and there I knew the cause of my sudden illness.

She gave me a cup to pee in and a few minutes later, the test confirmed that I was pregnant. She told me how far along I was but honestly, I checked out. Everything faded as she did the ultrasound and handed me the photo when she was done. All that mattered was that I was pregnant. Any other person would be happy with this news, but I was torn. I spent the rest of the day at home by myself just lying around. Rubbing my belly, fantasizing about life with a baby. Looking at the ultrasound photo for hours. Austin was working or getting high or whatever the f*ck he was doing at that point.

He came home later that night with Jon right by his side. They smoked and did some blow. I sat out on the balcony with my memory blanket wrapped around me, gazing at the buildings, at all the lights and sounds of the city that never slept.

Allowing the chaos to take control over what had become my life.

The day of the party I spent walking around the city, lost, confused, and overwhelmed. I wanted to tell Austin I was pregnant. I wanted to share the news with him, hoping that maybe it was what he needed, the push to come back to me. I was scared, terrified that even if I told him, nothing would change. He would be happy and want to celebrate by getting high or partying. But then I walked by the art gallery I took him to for his birthday, and his sketch of me was now sitting dead center in the window.

For all to see.

That was when I realized he needed to know, that I needed to tell him. If he still didn’t change, if it still didn’t help him find his way then I would raise the baby by myself. There wasn’t a chance in Hell that I would ever let my child step foot anywhere near this life.

The second I got home and parked my car in the garage, a sick, disturbing feeling manifested deep within my core. I walked to my door with my heart heavy and full, filled with nothing but worry, concern, and anxiety. Coming home to a party was nothing new, but when I saw that little girl my heart dropped. Molly playing with drugs, nobody watching over her, nobody protecting her, nobody taking care of her. My heart shattered along with the fantasy of the life I thought I could have.