Rush (31 page)

“What if I am? What if I have a baby and become just like her? I can’t do that, Lucas. Even if it doesn’t happen with the first child, it could with the second or the third. I can’t do that to my children. I won’t have my children sleeping in the hall!”

“What are you talking about?”

She pushed at him. “Never mind.”

“No, not never mind. Tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll accept your apology on one condition. Tell me what happened to Ethan.”

She started to pull away, untangling herself from him both physically and emotionally.

“Who killed him?” he pressed, standing as she did.

Her eyes wide, she put her palms up for him to stop. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You asked me what happens when the baby is killed. Were you talking about Ethan? Did your mother kill Ethan? Is that what you’re afraid of, killing your own child?”

She shook her head, edging away toward the bathroom. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I need to get dressed.” She dashed into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her.

He didn’t make an effort to stop her. Fucking hell. He ran both hands through his hair. No wonder she understood his feelings about his grandfather, she had the same about her mother. They had the same fucking nightmare in common. So much was starting to make sense, but there were still pieces missing. He wasn’t going to let her out of this hotel room until she gave them up. He slipped on a pair of boxer shorts and clicked the TV on to watch while he scanned the room service menu and waited for Mi.

As for the broken condom… he would make good on his promise to be there for Mi and their child. They’d raise it together. Past that, he couldn’t think. He had enough to focus on at the moment with the woman hiding in the bathroom. It was stupid, but he knew if he let himself hope, he’d hope for a baby with Mi.

He’d killed a man and possibly made himself a father all before noon. What a brilliant fucking day this was shaping up to be. None of that was on his to do list. And now he had to figure out how to get his girlfriend to tell him her deepest, darkest secret or they would never have a chance. Baby or no.

He ordered five different breakfast dishes from room service, then sat back against the head board, alternating his attention between the TV and the closed bathroom door. The shower turned off right about the time breakfast arrived. He sat for another fifteen minutes or so before Mi finally came out of the bathroom. She stood in the doorway looking like she’d rather be anywhere but where he was. Her hair was wet, combed back from her face, and she’d wrapped a thick robe around herself. The color was back in her cheeks whether it was from the shower or lingering embarrassment, he wasn’t sure.

“Are you hungry?” He motioned to the food spread out on the small dining table. “I ordered breakfast.”

She gave him a glance that didn’t reach his face. “Yes. Very.”

He shoved off the bed on the opposite side from where she stood and began lifting the covers off the plates of food. “Take your pick.”

She moved toward him. Her robe covered her feet, making it appear as though she floated. She kept the table between them, sitting down in the chair furthest away from him. He gave her the space she wanted, biding his time before he resumed their conversation.

“Pancakes? Eggs Benedict? Corned beef hash and eggs? French toast? Cereal? There’s some fruit and sausage as well.” He handed her an empty plate, then sat back and watched her debate the choices.

When she’d taken what she wanted, he did the same. They ate in silence, the only noise the clink of silverware and the drone of the TV in the background.

“More coffee?” he offered.

“Yes, please.”

Weren’t they just the perfect dysfunctional couple? He finished his food, then sat back and watched her take a second helping. She kept her focus on her plate, taking her time with each bite. She was stalling. He let her.

“Would you like more pancakes?” he asked.

She looked at the stack with a mixture of longing and revulsion. She shook her head slowly, reluctantly. Her time for procrastinating was over.

“Now tell me about Ethan,” he said.

She played with the corner of the napkin in her lap. “I overreacted earlier. I know you’d be there should anything…” She made a helpless gesture with one hand. “Well you know.”

“If you’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I was beginning to think you didn’t know me at all.”

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze traveled as far as his Adam’s apple, then away. “It’s just that a baby wasn’t something I ever wanted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” She looked at him then, her eyes watery and full of self-recrimination.

“
Querida
, I’ve met your mother. And you met
my
family. We couldn’t scrape together one descent parental role model between the two of us.”

She sat back in her chair hard enough to jar it. “So you agree that we shouldn’t have a baby.” Something like disappointment flashed across her face for a moment before it settled back into grim lines.

“No.”

“But you just said—”

“I said we didn’t have parents good enough to emulate ourselves after, but that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t make good parents.”

“How can you say that?”

“Were you lying when you said I wasn’t like my grandfather?”

“No, but—”

“Good because I believed you. I can’t promise I’ll be a great father, but I’ll try. I think that’s all anyone can do. Don’t you?”

“That’s you.”

“
Querida
, I’ve seen you with Davy and Gooch. Hell, I’ve even seen you be loving and patient with Tracey and your mother and brother. I can tell how much you tried to take care of them and Ethan. And how crushed you get when you think you’re failing the people you love.”

He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “You care about the people around you. You don’t run from difficult situations. You were there for Lucy when she needed you the most. But most importantly, you care so much about being a good parent that you want to deny yourself the opportunity to be one on the off chance you couldn’t live up to your own expectations.”

He got up, walked around the table and pushed her chair back. Crouching down in front of her, he took her hands in his. “There’s no one I’d rather be the mother of my child than you.”

She choked back a sob, catching it in the hand she pulled from his. “Don’t.”

“You were so young when Ethan died. Only fifteen. You did the best you could for him, for your mother. But now it’s time to let me help you. You need my help, Mi. Your mother needs more than you’re able to provide. Your brother needs to know what happened.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“You don’t… you couldn’t understand.”

“I didn’t think you would understand about
Abuelo
,” he answered simply. “But you did.”

“It’s not the same thing!”

“No. It’s not. What were you talking about when you said you wouldn’t have your children sleeping in the hall?”

“I never said that.”

“Yes, you did. What did you mean?”

He wasn’t going to let up, Mi realized. He would keep asking questions, keep after her to tell him what happened. Well, if that’s what he wanted. That’s what he’d get. And then he’d see how stupid it would be for them to have a child together. He’d leave her alone. He’d stop making her think she could have the things normal people had. He’d go and have a relationship and a baby with someone who wasn’t tied down to the past like she was.

Only she hated the thought of Lucas with someone else, of him holding a child some other woman would give him. Oh, God. Her chest hitched, the tears backing up behind her eyes faster than they could fall.

“I slept in the hall every night,” she said, her words coming out as broken as she felt. “Ethan was so small. He… he couldn’t help crying. He was just a baby. So small. She… one night he cried. I went to him like always. Can’t wake mommy. But she… she was already there, standing over the crib. She had a pillow. She had it over Ethan. I stopped her. After that I slept in the hall. Someone had to protect him. He was so small, just a baby. I can’t…”

He cupped her face in his hands. “You’re doing fine. I’m right here. You slept in the hall to protect him…”

“Yes. Only I was so tired. Night after night in the hall. That night…
that
night I failed. I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to. I was just so tired.” She clamped her eyes closed tight, the memories of that night streaming by like buildings past a moving train. Ethan. Her mother. Jason. Flicker, flicker, flicker.

“I don’t know why I woke up,” she continued, pressing her fingers against her eyelids, against the images. “Maybe it was the quiet. Quiet when there should have been noise.” She rocked back and forth just the way she used to rock Ethan when he couldn’t sleep. “My mom’s door was open. I always closed it so she wouldn’t hear him cry. I went into his room…”

She bolted off the chair, away from Lucas. She couldn’t be near him when she told this part. The room was suddenly too small. He was too close. It was all pressing in on her, crowding her chest.

“I need air. It’s too hot in here.” She clawed at the robe, yanking it open.

He went to the windows without a word and opened them.

When he made a move toward her she shook him off, backing into the corner. “Stay there, okay? Just stay over there. I need air. It’s too hot.” She fanned herself with the open robe. Had she ever been this hot?

“Take easy breaths,
querida
. You’re hyperventilating. That’s it. Good. Take your time.”

“It’s so hot.” She wiped the cuff of the robe across her forehead.

“Do you want some water?”

“No. Give me a minute.” She bent at the waist, gripping her knees. This was the hard part. This was the part she’d never told. Oh, God. Her breakfast threatened a reappearance. She moved to the bed and sat down, putting her head between her knees. She would not throw up in front of him again. After a few moments, her stomach offered an uneasy truce, settling enough so she could sit up.

Lucas was there across the room, looking like he’d dash to her side if she needed him. How had she ever doubted him? He’d been there for her in ways no one else ever had been. He was tall and strong, honorable and honest. Despite everything, he loved her. And she loved him right back.

She held out her hand to him. “Come here.”

He came to her, taking her hand and easing down on the bed beside her.

She placed his hand between both of hers and began again, focusing on their joined hands. “I went into Ethan’s room. My mom was sitting in the chair rocking him. Only… Something wasn’t right. I don’t know how I knew. I just did.” She plucked at the hair on the back of Lucas’s hand. “She said… she said that the demon came and took Ethan. She held him up saying that she had told me that would happen. It was my fault the demon took Ethan. She pushed him at me. His body hung from her hands all wrong. His head bent back like it wasn’t supposed to. His face b-blue.

“She said… she said the demon came and took her baby. She pointed at the crib and said: He left
that
behind as punishment. I was crying then, begging her to let me have Ethan. I thought if she gave him to me I could fix him. But she wouldn’t. Go look, she said. Go see what happens when bad girls don’t listen to their mothers. It was my fault, she said. She said that over and over.
Your fault
. It’s
your fault
the demon came.
Your fault
he left the bad omen behind. Go look, she yelled. Go see what you did.”

Mi pitched into Lucas’s chest and was immediately wrapped into a hug. He murmured sweet things to her, sweet things she didn’t deserve. It was her fault Ethan was dead. All her fault.

She had to finish it, get it all out. “I went to the crib. She wouldn’t give me Ethan until I did. There was a stuffed bear sitting in one corner. And then it hit me what she was saying. The bear was the omen. The demon left the bear and took Ethan. The demon… the demon was my brother.

“Jason killed Ethan.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Thirteen years she’d kept the secret, not ever realizing how much of her she’d given over to it, how much of her had been eaten away by it. Expunging the secret left behind a vast empty space she didn’t know how to fill. It was as though a chuck of her life had been ripped from her, leaving a yawning gap that should be filled with memories of a life well lived. Would she always carry this emptiness? Would she always be less?

“How can you be sure it was Jason who killed Ethan and not your mother?” Lucas asked.

“Jason never went into Ethan’s room,” Mi said. “He was only ten at the time, but he resented Ethan, never wanted anything to do with him. There was no reason why his bear would be in there.”

“Are you sure? I’d be more apt to believe your mother did him harm than ten-year old Jason.”

“I wasn’t sure then and I’m not sure now. I don’t know who killed Ethan.”

“Did you ever ask Jason about the bear?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She moved to the window, looking out at the traffic on the street in front of the hotel. “Jason had a lot of problems. Even before Ethan was born. He did poorly in school and was bullied. His father drifted in and out of Jason’s life until he went to prison for armed robbery. Before he went away Jason lived with him for a short time. I think during that time he might have been molested. Maybe even more than that, I don’t know. All I know is that when Jason came back to live with mom and me, he was different, angry and withdrawn.”

She turned back to look at Lucas, leaning against the window. The air felt warm and wonderful across her skin, so out of context with the memories she relived.

“He ditched school, stole, lied, and started walking in his sleep. And then Ethan came along, stretching what little money we had even thinner. Jason had to quit his baseball team. He loved playing baseball. I got him odd jobs doing yard work or whatever to help pay the bills. Mom was… well, a lot like she is now. At ten, Jason was pretty much left to fend for himself.”