Released (Caged #3)(29)

God, I was a dick.

Michael had come to make sure I was all right in Portland, and I had punched him for making what was probably a pretty reasonable assumption about the kind of company I kept. Even after I did that, he stayed and tried to get to know Tria. He had even left us cash for the trip.

He knew I wouldn’t ask for it, and he knew we must have needed it, or we wouldn’t have gone to his hotel in the first place. He’d done all of that for us…well, for me. He hadn’t known Tria. He didn’t want anything in return. He was just there. He was there for me.

Fuck.

I rubbed the palms of my hands on my jeans and closed my eyes for a minute. My stomach was cramping up on me again, but there were so many f*cked up thoughts going on in my head, I didn’t know which one to blame.

Glancing out the window, I recognized the area and knew we were close. There were a bunch of people standing around Feet First—smoking and just hanging out. I couldn’t see Tria at first, and I felt panic welling up inside me.

She said she needed to see me, but what if she changed her mind? What if she realized what a total dick I was and decided to just head in any direction away from me—cut the ties, cut her losses—and just go?

Damon pulled up to the curb just outside of the bar. Tria must have recognized the car, though it stood out in this neighborhood anyway, and immediately appeared through the middle of the crowd. She ran over to the car’s back door, yanked it open, and jumped inside before Damon had the chance to walk around to open it for her. The door slammed closed behind her, and she threw herself at me.

For the first time since she told me about being pregnant, everything felt right again.

Her scent was no longer just imagined but surrounding me—filling the back of the car and my head with everything that was good and right in the world. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her against my chest. She scrambled into my lap as Damon maneuvered the car back into the street and toward the highway. I held on as tight as I could, as if my whole being depended on her closeness.

Maybe it did.

As her tears hit my skin, I couldn’t help but cry with her. She cried into my shoulder and neck, and her body shook so hard, I kept feeling like I could lose my grip on her.

Except I wasn’t going to let that happen.

“I’m sorry!” Tria sobbed. “I’m so sorry! I never should have left you…”

“You should have…I deserved it. God, Tria, I’m sorry…I’ll never let you down again…I swear.”

“I was just so scared, and I didn’t know about it all…”

“I never told you anything…”

“I was afraid for the baby…”

“I was such a f*cking * to you…to everyone…”

“You said you were using again…”

“You were just gone, and I freaked…”

“I didn’t know what to do…”

“I’ll never fail you again, Tria—I promise.”

It was overwhelming, cathartic, painful, elating, and exhausting. By the time we had both spewed out everything we wanted to say, we were sobbing into each other’s shoulders and hanging on to each other as tightly as we could. I moved my hand up and down her back, feeling the warmth of her body under my fingers. I tucked my head in the space between her neck and shoulder and inhaled.

There was nothing better than the scent of her skin. Not pizza or sex or H—nothing compared to her scent.

I pulled back and used my hands to skim her cheeks, still wondering if this was real or not. I brushed aside the tears on her cheeks and kept my eyes on hers as I moved closer. Though I had intended the kiss to be soft and gentle, Tria grabbed the back of my head and pulled me roughly against her mouth.

Moaning into her, I reciprocated—moving my lips, mouth, and tongue together to make her mine again. At the same time, she claimed me, and I wanted nothing more than to give myself to her in any and every way possible. I was hers—completely and fully.

When we finally parted, I just held her and stared into her face for the longest time. Tria turned slightly to sit across my lap with her arms around my neck, and my hand graced over her side. Looking down, I moved my hand from her side to the center of her belly. Over the fabric of her shirt, I massaged the area softly.

“Everything is okay, right?” I whispered.

“Yes,” she said. “I mean, as far as I know…I guess?”

“You didn’t see a doctor yet?”

“No,” she responded with a shake of her head. “I asked the clinic how much it would be at, but I didn’t have the money. Yolanda’s going to loan it to me. Well, she was.”

“What the hell happened?” I asked.

“The police came to serve me with the subpoena,” Tria said. “They asked if I knew where to find you, and I gave them the address, and they said you weren’t living there anymore. I didn’t think they were right, so I went to look, like I told you, and there was that other woman living there.”

“I didn’t have enough money for rent,” I admitted. “The * wouldn’t give me a chance to come up with the rest, and…”

I trailed off, deciding I didn’t really want her to think about the rest of that shit. Stress wasn’t good for a pregnant woman, was it?