Forever & More: The Friend Zone series (12 page)

I may have lost Chloe, but I will never turn my back on my kid and I don’t care who gets in my way. I will protect he or she with my last breath if I have to. It doesn’t matter if I’m protecting them against their mother or the angels above, if it’s what’s needed, it’s what I'll do.

I hear a faint ping in my pocket. When I pull my phone out there are a series of texts. Some from Chloe, a few from Sara, but the majority are from Harley and Brady. Everyone wanting to know where I am, and if I’m coming back any time soon. Am I going back today? Fuck, I have to. I need to get back to the hospital with my child. There is no way in hell I’m leaving the poor thing alone with its mother.

I’m a little surprised at the level of disgust I now have for Chloe. It’s amazing how one event can change your entire perspective and opinion of someone so quickly. It’s going to be nine long ass months, that’s for sure. I decide to text Harley back to get a quick update on the baby, not Chloe, and to let him know I’m okay.

Taking a breather. How’s the kid?

My phone chimes instantly with his response,
The kid is good. Strong and stubborn like his pops. Chloe is recovering good, too.
My anger is brought back to life at the mention of her name.

Don’t bring her up. I don’t want to talk about her. I just want to know my kid is safe and doing good, man. I’m in Victoria, heading back soon.
It may be petty, but fuck it, it’s how I feel and I’m not backing down. This is one situation I will on compromise on. You hurt me? Fine we can hash it out eventually. You hurt my kid? Whole ‘nother ballpark; I’m done. THAT’S how strongly I feel about becoming a parent. My phone chimes again.

What’s going on in your head dude? I know you and I know you are probably livid right now.

Harley knows me enough to know what’s going on in my head right now, but I humor him.

She was trying to kill herself and the kid in the process! She fucking knew!
It takes less than a second for my screen to light up.

Did she tell you that?

No, but she had to know. How could she not? I don’t get why she hasn’t told me! I should have known. All the times I heard or walked in on her getting sick, I should have known. The signs were there.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that it was in front of me all along. There were signs everywhere, the puking and the moodiness. Hell, she hasn’t had her period since she came home from the hospital. How could I be so stupid?

I think you got it wrong dude. Sara’s been with her since you left, so I don’t know what’s going on, but Chloe wouldn’t have tried to kill her own baby. You need to talk to her.

That’s a fucking joke, talking to her is the last thing I want to do right now. He doesn’t know shit and I tell him.

If you haven’t talked to Sara then you know as much as I do. She had every opportunity to correct me if I was wrong and she didn’t. She tried to get rid of my kid man, that shit damn sure don’t fly with me. I’m fucking done. I don’t want to hear shit about her unless it’s about the kid. Be back later and keep me posted ON THE KID!

My phone doesn’t go off again and I’m thankful for that small blessing. I know I have to go back and deal with the shit Chloe pulled, but I’m not ready. At least I have a long drive ahead of me to help get my mind straight. As much as I want to confront her again, I know that I can’t have her upset because it’s going to affect the baby and I don’t want that.

I growl and punch the steering wheel a few times, trying to release some of the anger and hatred that’s built up inside of me. It doesn’t work, though, and that only pisses me off more. I grab the journal again and flip to the last entry. The most annoying thing about reading this is that none of the pages are dated, they’re all just random entries of self-pity and self-deprecating thoughts.

Although there are no dates, some of the pages relive that day’s events and it helps me determine when they were written. I flip to the second to the last page and read her perfectly scripted handwriting.

Today is an okay day. Skye spent the day by my side as usual. Harley is grilling and Sara is being Sara. Why she feels the need to openly discuss anal is beyond me. I think this Christmas, I’m buying her a filter to catch all the crude that exudes from her brain before it falls out of her mouth. I’m a little envious though. I wish I could be that carefree and happy. I wish I were half as brave as she is. I admire her ability to say what she says and how she feels without remorse or a second thought. Then, maybe I could explain to everyone, including myself, why I feel like I do. Why I shut down and can’t start back up.

I could accurately express the pain I feel inside, the gut-wrenching vulnerability I’m constantly suffering from. These are pipe dreams and wishes I’m reserving for shooting stars and magic fountains.

I don’t understand it, I was right there,
beside
her, showering her with love. How could she feel so isolated and depressed when she had a devoted, loving boyfriend by her side to hold her when she’s not strong enough to stand on her own? I throw the journal in the passenger seat, having enough. I can’t keep reading her depressing words. When her thoughts run through my mind, I feel like they are infecting my soul and dragging me into that dark place with her. I have a kid on the way and I refuse to let her drag me down with her. The only thing that matters to me now is my child. Huh, my child. It’s all so surreal.

I turn the key and the Jeep purrs to life, just as the sun peeks over the tree tops. A new day, a new life, and lots of things to set straight and put behind me. I shift to reverse and once I’m turned around, I speed out of the parking lot.

An hour later, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot. I stare at the large, stucco structure wondering what I’m going to say to her. How am I supposed to spend the next eighteen years looking into the eyes of the woman that stole my heart, then ripped it out and tried to kill a part of me?

With a deep sigh, I exit my vehicle and walk into the ER waiting room, unsure if she’s still in this part of the hospital or not. My question is answered when I look around and don’t see Harley, or anyone else for that matter. There is not a single person in the waiting area and how I wish I were one of those people who were absent from this room.

I advance on the plexiglass window where an older gentleman in scrubs is seated. He looks at me in annoyance before saying, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir. I’m looking for Chloe Thomas.”

“I can’t divulge patient information, young man. I suggest you contact a family member to get her room number.”

I grit my teeth in anger, trying desperately not to lash out at the man for doing his job. I’m about to lose the battle when I look up and spot Sally.

“Sally!” I yell past the man.

“Sir, you can’t—” He’s interrupted by Sally, who’s rushing toward me.

“It’s okay, Clay. I’ve got this.”

She squeezes through the double doors and wordlessly embraces me. We stay like this for a few moments before she pulls back, keeping her hands firmly clasped on my shoulders. Her eyes run over my wrinkled clothes and miserable facial expression.

“Where have you been?” she whispers. She pulls me in for another hug, like I’ve disappeared and have been missing for years.

“I took a drive.”

“Well, I have been worried sick about you. Doctor Jacobs told me what happened. Skye, you can’t possible think Chloe did this on purpose,” she sternly states. Her motherly ways have always been welcomed until now. I don’t need a lecture. I need a happy and healthy baby.

“You tell me how she could
not
know she was pregnant! She tried to kill herself, Sally! No, wait, not just herself, she tried to kill my kid in the process! What did I do to deserve this? What did the baby do?” I can’t help the tears that roll down my face.

I’m hurting. I’m hurting for myself, for my child, and I can’t deny that some of the pain I’m feeling is for Chloe. I know in my heart I’m done, but I can’t help but still bear some of her pain.

“I really think you just need to talk to her, Skye. I’m not making excuses for what happened. I just think you need all the facts.” She carefully relays her concerns to me.

“How’s the kid?” I say, trying to move the subject along. My question brings a huge smile to her face.

“The
kid
is perfect. All its vitals are strong. I think it’s a girl, just so you know.” Her eyebrows extend toward her hair.

“Oh yeah? What makes ya think that?” I chuckle.

“Us older folks know a thing or two, just trust me.” She taps the end of my nose and turns on her heel. “Ya coming?” she throws over her shoulder. Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I follow in her footsteps down the sterile hallway.

The look on his face is what did me in. It was the look that said goodbye, that I mean absolutely nothing to him now. I might as well be a stranger on the street passing by, someone not worthy of his attention. The thing that hurts the most, though, is that I was right. I knew it was a matter of time before he turned his back on me and walked out of my life forever.

The pain in his eyes will haunt me until the day I die. How could he think that I would have tried to kill a part of us like that? I can’t believe he can think so little of me. How long has he thought I was capable of doing something like hurting my own child?

How could he not let me try to explain? I honestly had no idea I was pregnant. If I did, then I would have never done anything like that. Was it smart to try to drown my sorrows? No. Will I do it again? Never! Add the pills to the mix and last night was the single dumbest thing I have ever done. I don’t know what I was thinking; nothing good came from my behavior. I know this now and honestly, I knew it then, but I was so desperate to break through the dark into the light that I was willing to try anything.

Sara is sitting in the corner staring at me with an impassive face. Her features remain neutral, but her brown eyes have converted into a black storm of emotions. Anger, hatred, rage, all swirling in a deadly cocktail. What I would give to see just an ounce of sympathy in them right now. I sigh in defeat. It’s official, everyone hates me. I am about to lose everything that has ever mattered to me.

“Don’t.” The word comes out in a bark. My head snaps up and I’m met with not only stormy eyes, but an abhorrent look that’s taken over her delicate features and it stops any word that may have slipped off my tongue at her command.

Not being able to meet her steely gaze for long, I glance at the white sheet that covers my legs.

“You have no idea how pissed I am at you right now,” she states firmly. She may not have actually told me how pissed she is, but I can see it clearly by her demeanor.

I stay silent and continue to stare at the white sheet.

“You have nothing to say?” Again I remain silent. “Really? LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” she screams. My attention goes from the sheet to her red face. The veins in her neck and forehead throb with tension. “You seriously have nothing to say for yourself? You could have fucking died, do you not get that?”

A tear strolls down my cheek. “You don’t get to cry! Suck that shit up right now. You don’t get to feel sorry or bad for what you did. You did it, you knew what you were fucking doing. I had a suspicion you were fucking up, I just didn’t know how bad. Do you think so little of yourself, feel so worthless that you needed to kill yourself?” Her chin trembles but her tears remain stubborn and in place.

“This is bad, Chloe! Skye is God knows where doing God knows what because you have pushed him away. You almost lost your child! Why?” she yells again.

“I didn’t know,” I whisper.

“You didn’t know?” she asks. Her tone softens slightly.

“No, I didn’t know I was pregnant,” I clarify.

“Did you know you were going to kill yourself?”

“I’m fully aware of what the consequences could have been. No one has a problem reminding me and throwing it in my face. Telling me what a fuck-up I am. It wasn’t intentional, people do this kind of shit every day and are fine. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was trying to escape myself for only a little bit. You don’t know what it’s like to live in my mind day in and day out. It’s dark, it’s depressing, and it sure as hell isn’t a good place to be,” I spit. My anger is rapidly building. I made a bad choice, I get it. I’m here, the baby’s fine, and it sure as hell won’t happen again.

I understand what I did and what could have happened. I can’t go back and change it, no matter how much I wish I could.

“I saw him, ya know,” I soften my tone.

“Who?” Sara asks in confusion.

“Tom. While I was at the cemetery, Tom came to me.”

“Chloe, you need to talk to someone.” Sara’s rage turns to a mixture of sadness and concern.

“I don’t really have a choice in that anymore, now do I?” I pout.

“No, you don’t.” I’m startled by Doctor Jacobs’ voice as he enters the room. How much of my conversation did he hear? I’m flooded with vulnerability and try to hide it by pulling up on the sheet. “Chloe, this is Dr. Vivian Cox, she is the hospital’s psychiatrist.”

I nod. I knew this was going to happen, so I remain emotionless. She looks pleasant enough. Her brown hair is pulled in a tight bun, resting on top of her head. Her hazel eyes are covered by a pair of round, thick framed glasses. A tight, black, pencil skirt, solid white, button up blouse, and flats adorn her very petite body. She definitely looks the part of a shrink. Her entire appearance and stance radiates professionalism.

She extends her hand and advances on me. “Hello, Chloe. I have heard so much about you. I looked forward to meeting with you.”

I stare at her palms as if they are covered in acid. After a moment, she clears her throat and withdrawals her hand.

“Chloe, we would like to discuss a few things with you; is Skye available?” At Doctor Jacobs’ mention of his name, my heart lunges up into my throat. My eyes burn. He doesn’t want me anymore; he’s done.

Sara saves me by telling them that he isn’t around but should be back soon. This surprises me. He’s coming back? What he said about being there for the kid runs through my mind and him coming back makes sense. I glance at Sara and notice that her full attention is on me, studying my reaction.

“Well, I was hoping to relay all of this information to both of you at the same time, but I guess you will have to fill him in on everything,” he states.

“Fill me in on what?” Skye’s gruff voice brings everything dead inside of me to life. I let out an audible gasp, which gets me a quick, disgusted once over before he turns his attention back to the doctor.

Doctor Jacobs slides over to allow Skye to come into the room. Skye crosses the room and stands by Sara’s side, not once glancing in my direction. Doctor Jacobs closes the door and walks to the chair beside me, he sits in it softly and looks around the room.

“Chloe, I have briefed Doctor Cox on your history with the hospital and what the cause was that placed you here the first time. She is up to date with every occurrence that has happened from when you left until this point. The only thing we need from you is to fill in the blanks between your stays. I have to inform you that Doctor Cox, Sally, and I have all spoken to a social services caseworker. We have also given them the necessary information. Yesterday evening, the caseworker sat down with Sally, Doctor Cox, and myself, to which we also invited a judge. We met in Judge Maxwell’s office and discussed your situation.”

He takes a deep breath and continues, “Normally, a situation like this would warrant Social Services to intervene immediately. However, Sally argued that this is completely out of character for you. She argued that we should allow Doctor Cox to perform regular counseling sessions with you and the rest of us will observe your progress from a distance. We will only intervene if we feel no progress is being made and that you may pull something like this again. Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?”

I’m too embarrassed to answer so he takes it as I don’t understand what he is trying to explain, but I don’t stop him when he elaborates further. “Basically, you will attend counseling with Doctor Cox. If you miss an appointment without a proper excuse then, Social Services will get involved. If you do anything to harm yourself or this child, you will face necessary charges and the possibility of losing this child once it’s born. You are being given a chance that no others have ever had before you, Chloe; I hope you understand that. I hope you understand the severity of this situation.”

I nod in acknowledgement but remain quite.

There’s nothing that I can say, nothing I can do anyway so what’s the point. “There is one more thing. You will be subjected to random drug testing. All of your previous medications are being taken away and we will determine new ones that will benefit your mental well-being and teach you how to cope with certain aspects of your life if you are not able to change them into something positive. Doctor Cox is highly qualified and has lots of experience with abuse victims and will determine the path that she feels is safe for you and the baby.”

I take a chance and glance at Skye. He ignores my stare, but Doctor Jacobs and Doctor Cox do not. They both look at me simultaneously with narrow, questioning eyes. Sara claps her hands and startles everyone with her quick motion. “When do we start?” The optimism in her voice is amusing, you would think she is the one having to go through cockling.

“Tomorrow morning. Doctor Jacobs and I have decided to keep Chloe one more night to keep an eye on both mother and fetus. I will come to you at nine a.m. but after tomorrow, we will schedule appointments in my office a block over.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sara says. I can’t help but to smirk at her.

Both doctors stand to leave but before Doctor Jacobs exits the room, he turns back to me. “Chloe, I hope you realize the severity of your situation and that you will do what you need to so that you can get your life and health back on track.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply weakly.

They exit the room and I almost wish they wouldn’t have. The room is thick with tension. Everyone is sitting on the edge of a jagged cliff and I have an eerie feeling that I am about to be pushed off the edge. The door clicks shut and no one says anything. Sara’s chair squeaks and my gaze shoots to hers.

“I’m just gonna—” She gets cut off.

“I’d prefer you didn’t at the moment, actually.” Sara’s eyebrows shoot up at Skye’s menacing tone.

“No, I’m leaving. I think you two need to have a heart-to-heart or a penis to vagina. Whatever you need to do to fix this fucked-up mess, needs to be done ASAP,” she spits back at him.

“Sara—” I speak up, but I’m silenced by the angry glares that immediately zoom in on me.

“There will be no penis to anything, let alone any heart-to-hearts. There is nothing to say or do to fix this. It’s done, I’m moving on. I’m here for my kid and that’s it.” I can’t help the gut-wrenching wail that leaves my throat.

They stop bickering instantly. Skye’s feet stay planted firmly to the floor, but Sara is by me in a flash.

“Are you hurting?” she asks frantically. Through my blurred vision, I notice Skye’s body move at the mention of me in pain. Is he concerned for me or the baby? I continue to cry, my breathing becomes labored, and my abdomen begins cramping. It feels like someone has grabbed my uterus and is squeezing it as hard as they can.

My hands find their place over the baby’s home as I desperately try to calm myself. Skye’s voice sounds far away as he yells down the hall, calling for help. A nurse quickly rushes into the room and begins her inspections.

I’m so focused on trying to will away the cramps that I don’t hear anything that she’s saying. Doctor Jacobs rushes into the room and the nurse leaves the moment his foot hits the door’s threshold. His loud, demanding tone instructs Sara and Skye to leave. They do quietly, but not without glancing back at me several times.

I’m so immersed in watching Skye leave the room that I’m startled when I feel a cold gel drop on my stomach. The sound of my sweet angel’s rapid heartbeat fills the room. The feeling that overtakes me is foreign, but it’s so wonderfully overwhelming that I instantly relax.

“What happened, Chloe?” Doctor Jacobs asks. Jesus, does this man ever take a day off?

“Nothing,” I reply in a monotone voice. My entire focus is on the little peanut floating on the screen.

“Chloe,” he says more sternly.

I reluctantly drag my attention from the screen and focus on him. His pepper colored hair has more salt to it than it did when I woke up from my coma. Laugh lines kiss his cheeks and eyes. I stare at the small valleys around his eyes and can’t help but wonder what joyous moments fill those small gaps. Was it just one amazing memory that put that mark there or was it a lifetime of happiness that slowly etched its way into his skin?

I finally meet his grey eyes and respond to his question.

“Everyone was arguing. I just got upset and then my stomach started cramping. The baby’s okay, right?” The concern in my voice is evident.

“The baby is just fine. I’m going to make sure everyone stays out of your room. Just because you are okay doesn’t mean you have recovered fully. You need to rest. I’m going to give you some Promethazine.” I sit up at his comment, but he holds his hand out to me in a
hold on a second
gesture.