Indefinite (Salvation #6)(14)

“I know, but I’m going to hope that was a fluke.”

She gives me a sad smile. “I hope so too, and this time, we’ll be prepared with great medical care through the entire pregnancy.”

There wasn’t anything we could pinpoint as to why I miscarried, but Clara had suggested that stress could have been a large factor.

So, after I lost the baby, I took a month off work.

I headed to Virginia Beach and hung out with Mark because I figured he would be someone who wouldn’t judge me. Jackson’s best friend and I have gotten along from the beginning. He makes me laugh, and for about two seconds, I thought maybe he and I could be something. Thankfully, that idea disappeared as soon as it started.

He’s the crazy ass in their group of friends, just like I am. We get along great, but there was never that spark. It was almost like looking into a mirror, and it got old very quick.

Instead, I got a great guy who I can count on as a friend. I also think that, had I ever crossed that line, he never would have met Charlie, the woman he was meant to be with.

“Ashton?” Clara calls my attention back to her.

“Yes?”

“Have you told anyone about this? Any support system in place? I hate to ask, but I think it’s more important than we think it is. Most of the success cases have a large number of people there for the triumphs and losses.”

“I told Cat.”

She nods. “And?”

“And I’m sure she told Jackson. Gretchen also knows.”

“What about your parents?”

“Not yet. I want to get through this part first.”

We come to a stop outside the door to the lab. “I understand you wanting to wait, and this is me talking as a friend, but if the labs come back and say that it’ll be more difficult than we thought, you’re going to want someone there to hold your hand. I’m asking you to think about it, that’s all.”

If it goes down that road, I won’t need a hand to hold, I’ll need someone to hold me together.

It’s just that the person I would want is the last person I will ever tell.





7


Ashton





I have never been more physically exhausted than I am right now.

It’s eight o’clock, and I’m just leaving the office. There was an issue with one of the freezers that house the frozen eggs, and my team and I worked fast and tirelessly to make sure we lost nothing.

Thank God we have alarms set to warn us about temperature variations.

At least the chaos of my afternoon helped keep my mind busy. My test results will be back in a few days, but I have what I’m calling the “Baby Daddy Book” in my bag. Clara said it’s best to start combing through it now and at least narrow down the options.

I love shopping, but this is a whole new version of a catalog.

I step outside, cracking my neck and breathing in deep. Not only did I come into work earlier than I normally would but also I’m leaving later, and I missed my spin class. Oh, and I had three crackers for lunch.

“You okay?”

I jump at the sound of Quinn’s voice. “Jesus!”

“Usually, you would call me God.”

Idiot. “What are you doing here? No—” I stop and shake my head. I don’t need this today. “You know what? I don’t care or want to know. You’re just some creepy guy on the street, and I don’t talk to creepy guys.” I don’t wait for a response before I stick my earbuds in, turn the music up, and tune him out.

There’s no doubt in my mind that he’s following me. He’s either been waiting outside my workplace all day or he put some tracking device in my bag. Neither would be entirely surprising.

Right when I’m starting to get lost in the lyrics about fucking the police on my way to the subway, I feel him beside me. I try not to look at him, feel him, smell his cologne amongst the smells around me, but I can’t stop it.

Quinn Miller has always been my weakness, damn it.

He pops an earbud out and puts it in his own ear. “Hey!” I protest.

“I wasn’t sure what angry rap song you were listening to. I was curious.”

“As if that gives you the authority to find out?”

He smiles. “You should get a new playlist.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my playlist.”

Seriously, some people just don’t appreciate the classics of rap. The new stuff lacks the anger and feelings the rappers of the 90s embraced.

“You need to get with the times.”

Quinn is baiting me. I know it, and the smirk on his perfect lips tells me that he’s enjoying bothering me. One does not mess with me regarding my music.

“I’ll take that under advisement. Now, give it back.”

“But we’re walking.”

“No.” I huff. “I’m walking, you’re stalking. Stalkers usually hide in the bushes or stay out of sight, you should try that.”

He smiles. “Thanks for the tip.”

I try to ignore him, but it’s really hard. Quinn is a big guy, almost six foot three, stocky, but it’s not just his size, he bends the space around him, making it conform. Quinn has this way that makes it impossible to not be aware of his presence.