Unbeautifully (Undeniable, #2)(53)

“Wh-what?” I whispered, my voice cracking.

Tegen eyed me strangely. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. Fuck speaking, I couldn’t even breathe.

He’d left.

He’d just up and left me.

And now…

I was dying.

At least it felt like I was.

I could barely eat. When I did manage to sleep, it was riddled with nightmares, images of Nikki’s dead body and blood…everywhere.

I always woke up crying or on the verge of crying. I’d never felt so awful, so alone, so desolate before.

So empty.

Aching.

Oh god, it hurt…so damn bad.

And it was all my fault.

I’d pushed for something to happen between us, and…and I…

I had shot Nikki.

Me.

I’d killed her.

Now Ripper was gone because I’d been a selfish little girl who’d wanted him so badly I hadn’t cared about the repercussions my actions would bring down on him.

“Danny,” Cage pleaded. “You’re makin’ yourself sick, please—”

“Get out of my room!” I screamed, yanking my blankets up over my head. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want anything at all…except to stop feeling, to lay in bed and waste away. Or die, I didn’t care.

? ? ?

Clutching the rim of the toilet bowl, Ripper’s face fell forward. Gagging and dry heaving, he began expelling another round of tequila vomit. When he finished, he spit, stood, and gripped the edge of the sink. Pulling himself up, he fell forward and leaned over the counter. Swaying heavily, he managed to turn the tap on and wash his mouth out.

He wanted to go back. He wanted Danny. She was all he could think about. The only thing keeping him from turning his ass around was keeping a bottle with him at all times and * in his bed. It helped, gave him a minute sense of comfort, but just barely.

He needed something else, a bigger distraction and real comfort, the kind that only comes from familiarity.

The kind that came from family.

Family…

He could go home, back to California, back to the house he owned yet hadn’t been inside of since he’d lost his parents.

For the first time since he’d lost the only two people in the world who’d loved him unconditionally, Ripper wanted to go home. They wouldn’t be there but his memories would, the foundation and four walls that he’d grown up inside of would be full of mementos and photos of everything he’d lost. And that was something.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, gripping the walls, he made his way back into the motel bedroom. Shielding his eyes, he cursed both the sun and the naked bitch sprawled across the bed he’d paid for like she f*cking owned it. Seizing her arm, he haphazardly dragged her off the bed and dumped her on the floor, so he could take her place in bed. Another bitch, he couldn’t remember their names for the life of him, rolled over and curled up around him with a sigh. He shoved her off him and grabbed the nearly empty bottle on the nightstand.

“You gonna share?” the bitch whined, reaching for him again, running her hand down his body and taking hold of his cock.

He elbowed her hard, shoving her off him and, because she was still hammered or crazier than shit, the bitch started laughing.

Annoying, high-pitched drunken laughter.

His head throbbed angrily.

But he’d picked her for a reason. Because she was blonde, a real blonde, her hair nearly white and her body was toned and tight and her skin tanned, soft, and smooth.

“Too drunk to f*ck.” She laughed.

“Fuck off,” he growled.

She laughed harder and he reached for her, grabbed hold of her hair, and yanked her face close to his. “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

She didn’t.

Still gripping her hair, Ripper rolled on top of her and dumped the last of the tequila over her face. “You gonna shut the f*ck up now, you dirty f*ckin’ whore?” he yelled as she thrashed beneath him.

She didn’t answer, because she couldn’t.

Because he had her face shoved down in the pillows.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A blonde nurse in pink scrubs with small wrinkles around her deep brown eyes appeared in my line of vision. “How we doing?” she asked kindly.

Fighting my tears, I nodded jerkily and tried to focus on her instead of the cramping, rippling sensation in my abdomen and the dull roar of the machine that was sucking out the tiny little life growing inside of me. I should have opted for the drugs they’d offered me. But not having a ride home, I’d thought it best to have my head clear.

But having a clear head meant I was fully aware of what was happening to me…

To my baby…

I’d never given much thought to having children other than the passing, “I’d like to…someday.” But now, even as terrified as I was, now that I had one inside of me, Ripper’s baby, I wanted to keep it there, keep it safe, feel it grow, hold it in my arms. Be a mom.

Just not without Ripper.

And if this baby came out looking like a little version of him…

No longer able to hold them back, my tears began to fall.

“Almost done, honey,” the nurse said, rubbing my arm. “Almost done.”