Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(55)

Killian slides from the Jeep without looking at me. He’s hardly looked at me at all since I broke down in his arms. I was hoping he’d react in his typical way, assuring me everything would be okay and swearing he’d stand by me through it all.

Instead, he’s basically ignoring me. Sure he answers direct questions, but other than that, he’s been a robot.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and see him waiting for me at the hood of the car. When we get to the door, he places his palm on the small of my back. It’s a barely-there show of support, but I exhale and relax a little because of it.

Opening the door, I can immediately hear Jack throwing a fit.

“Mom?”

“We’re in the kitchen!”

I lead the way in to find Jack squirming in his highchair and my mom wiping something off the front of her shirt.

“Hey, guys.” She crosses to us, giving me a hug and then moving to Killian. “Jack, look who’s here,” she says in an over animated voice. “It’s Killian, see?”

Jack’s bright red face fades to a light pink, and he grins, flashing all his teeth even while tears still fall from his chubby cheeks. “Illie!” He holds his baby arms up.

“Aw, buddy…” Killian crosses to my baby brother. “Are you giving your mom a hard time?” He reaches for the latches on the highchair as my mom swoops in and wipes the last bit of food from his hands and face. He pulls my brother into his arms and Jack grabs at Killian’s lips. I stand back as he blows raspberries into Jack’s neck, and the sweetness of it all makes my eyes hot.

“Crap!” My mom scurries to the sink to wash her hands. “I have to go or I’ll be late.”

I suck back the crazy emotions swirling through my chest as she comes to hug me good-bye.

Her eyes narrow. “Axelle, are you feeling okay?” She presses the back of her hand to my cheek. “You sick?”

Killian ducks out of the kitchen with Jack, but I don’t miss the glare he points in my direction before he goes.

“I’m fine. Just fighting a stomach bug.”

“Oh, no.” She pulls me in for a hug. “There’s some saltine crackers in the pantry and there should be some ginger ale in there too.”

“Thanks, I’ll give that a try.” I drop my bag on the floor and move toward the pantry for show.

“Thanks for helping her out, Killian!” She calls out as she ducks into the garage, the door closing behind her.

He doesn’t answer her. Guess it’s not only me he’s ignoring.

I pull a cup down from the cupboard and fill it with water, downing the liquid as fast as I can before filling another.

I made sure to drink a water before leaving Killian’s, and I grabbed another small bottle from the drugstore, so I’m already feeling the pressure to pee. I grab the bag from my backpack and move through the living room to the hallway where the guest bathroom is. I stop for a moment and Killian looks up from playing with my brother. Our gazes meet in an explosion of apologies and whispers of hope.

I nod and mumble, “I’ll be right back,” then lock myself in the bathroom to learn my fate.





Nineteen





Axelle





I emerge from the bathroom a lifetime later.

It’s not an exaggeration.

From the moment those double pink lines showed up not once, not twice, but on all three pregnancy tests, the old Axelle Rose Daniels died.

I didn’t cry or mourn the loss of the old me. If anything, I expected it. If these last four years have taught me anything, it’s that anything can happen, probably will, and most likely will suck.

So that’s it.

There’s no poetic way to say it.

No justifying why it happened.

It’s simple.

I’ve ruined my life.

“I’m pregnant with Clifford’s baby.” I toss the positive pregnancy tests on the couch next to Killian as he cuddles my brother watching Thomas the Tank Engine.

His eyes dart to the tests, slide up to mine, then focus back on the TV.

And that’s it.

That. Is. It.

I scoop up the tests and shove them into my backpack along with the brown paper bag that’s now filled with the empty boxes. Without feeling, I drop hard onto a barstool and stare at my mom’s Cuisinart.

I don’t know how much time passes. I’m unable to move, to talk, to think. All I can do is trace the letters of the word Cuisinart over and over with my eyes.

So when the garage door sounds from my right, I startle.

“Yo, kiddo.” Blake crosses to me and puts me in a headlock from behind, kissing the top of my head. “Where’s Killer?”

I don’t know. “With Jack.”

Blake moves to the living room, and I overhear him exchanging a greeting with my old best friend possibly ex-boyfriend. For the first time since I saw those two pink lines, I feel something like pain slicing through my heart and sucking the air from my lungs.

“…still think you’re an idiot to pass that up.” Blake crosses to the refrigerator with Jack in his arms. “One year and you’d be a UFL champ.”

I blink and focus on Blake just as Killian drops into the stool next to me.

Blake hands my brother a Go-Gurt and sets him down. “Cam explained what Bates would be doing today at the meeting. Had Rex practically jumping on the balls of his feet to get over there.”