Sweet Rome (Sweet Home, #1.5)(82)

My folks didn’t even acknowledge me much after that, too busy networking and putting on their show.

We had nothing left to say to one another anyhow.

The dinner moved on to the party side of things, and I relaxed when I managed to convince Molly to dance—keeping her close, keeping her protected.

“Rome?” The band finished playing “Sweet Home Alabama” to rapturous applause from the team and fellow guests, and, turning at the sound of my name, I saw Coach behind me.

“Oh, hey, Coach.”

Facing Molly, he said, “Miss Shakespeare, can I borrow Rome for a while?”

I stiffened, not wanting to leave my girl, but, giving Coach a big smile back, she nodded. “Sure, my feet are killing me anyway. I need to sit down. My damn ankles are like balloons!”

Taking Molly back to the table and sitting her down with her friends, I said, “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay with someone, okay?”

Pressing a kiss on my cheek, she answered, “I promise.”

Turning back toward Coach, I managed to signal to Austin and Jimmy-Don to watch out for Molly, and they both gave me a thumbs-up.

Over an hour passed, and I was still talking over game tactics for the BCS against Notre Dame—the most effective plays and the weaker parts of the Dame defense. I felt as though my eyes were crossing with boredom, and when my daddy joined the mass of business men and boosters, also throwing in his two cents, I had to hold back from launching across the group and throttling the bastard, especially when he looked at me and smiled—no, not smiled, gloated—my heart sank.

Something was up.

I began backing away from my daddy’s smug face, Coach frowning worriedly at my behavior, and I ran around the house, bursting into the backyard, and searched furiously for Mol. I beelined for the table we’d been sitting at and did a quick count: Cass, Austin, Lexi, Ally, and Jimmy-Don.

No Mol.

Jimmy-Don stood and looked behind me, beaming. “Where is she, man? You made her damn night with that note, you cheesy bastard!”

My hands began to shake, my breath choppy. “Where’s Molly? What’re you talking about?” I gripped onto his arms, my move silencing the table. Jimmy-Don’s mouth worked, but nothing came out.

“Where is she?” My hold on his arm tightened, hurting him, until a sharp push from Ally stopped me. Jimmy-Don stumbled back into Cass’s arms, completely white.

I looked down at my cousin and whispered, “Mol?”

And then I heard it…

“Rome! ROME!!!”

Whipping my head to the entrance of the house, I saw Shelly practically sprinting down the stairs in my direction.

All the blood in my body seemed to drain away as she approached me, panicked and hysterical, her face laced with tears.

I began to run and, grabbing her, asked, “Where’s Mol?”

“She’s… we didn’t know… the library… She’s… Oh my God, Rome…” was all she could get out.

Throwing her to the side, I ran into the hallway, tens of my teammates staring at me with a mix of sadness or shock. I had no idea why, but it only served to scare me further.

I could vaguely make out our friends following behind me, and seeing the heavy crowd blocking the entrance to the library, I shouted, “Move the f*ck out of my way! MOVE!!!”

Scattering at my command, the doorway cleared and I almost collapsed at the sight of what I found, my legs buckling with instant terror: Molly curled on the floor, covered in blood, screaming and writhing in pain.

No…

In seconds, I was by her side. “Mol! Fuck! Baby, I’m here! I’m here!” I didn’t know where to hold her, how to stop her pain.

Golden eyes, dulled with pain and sadness, looked my way, and she whispered, “Romeo, our baby, our baby… I-I think I’m losing it. Help me… Please…” and she wailed in pain again, clenching her legs together and hugging her stomach before crying so hard into the carpet she could barely breathe.

Lifting my head, I saw our friends staring at us in horror, and I shouted, “Somebody call 9-1-1. She’s losing our baby!”

Fuck. She was losing our baby… Questions of how and why were circling my mind, but I couldn’t tear my attention from Mol, who looked like she was dying—f*ck! Was she dying?

I flinched as someone touched my shoulder—Jimmy-Don telling me the ambulance was on the way.

Desperately needing to hold my girl, I picked her up, having no idea whether it was a good thing or not, and brought her to my lap. Rocking back and forth, I tried to soothe her, but her jerks of agony were tearing me apart. “Shh, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry,” I cried out, my tears like never-ending torrents.

Her skin slowly paled to a deathly white, and she touched my cheek, her weak hand like a feather against my skin. “I think our baby’s gone. It hurts so much. I think our baby’s gone…” She tried to finish, but her eyes widened, body stiffened, and she screamed, the most haunting f*cking scream I’d ever heard, as I felt a sudden wetness on my legs and, looking down, saw blood trickling down her thighs onto our intertwined bodies.

I didn’t know what to do. Hell… I didn’t know what to do!

Molly’s eyes began to flutter closed, her clutch on my shirt slackening, and a fresh bolt of panic felt like open blades shredding my chest. “Where’s the f*cking ambulance? She’s pregnant, goddamn it… She’s pregnant… Our little angel…” I trailed off, helpless to do anything.