Can't Let Go Page 24

And came face-to-face with a smiling Jude, his hair tousled, his jaw dusted with stubble. He wore ripped jeans and combat boots, and a leather cuff on one wrist, proudly revealing the strawberry tattoo on the other. This was his usual attire. Only difference was, tonight his T-shirt read The Scratching Post.

  He was supporting a bar...because she owned it.

  "Hello, beautiful," he said.

  I prefer the way you said hello with your mouth and hands and thrust after delicious thrust...

  Argh! He was the best man she'd ever met, and she was about to ruin his life, and yet she couldn't stop thinking about him naked, which sucked because he wasn't already naked and she wanted, needed more from him, and oh, crap she was babbling inside her own head. Tears stung her eyes. How she hated her tears. They'd come too frequently lately.

  His smile fell. He barked at Caroline to leave, and as soon as she'd hit the bricks, he closed the distance to draw Ryanne against his chest. "What's wrong?"

  The longer she put it off, the harder it was going to be to tell him. To maybe probably have to let him go...

  "Jude, I...I have to tell you something." She wrung her hands together, her palms damp.

  He cupped her cheeks, forcing her gaze to remain steady on his. "Did someone hurt you?" Rage simmered in his tone. Scary rage. If someone had hurt her, that someone would die.

  "I'm okay." Kind of. She gulped. Do it. Say it. "Do you remember the first time we had sex?"

  He frowned but nodded. "I remember everything about our first time. How tight and wet you were. How sweet you tasted." His thumbs caressed the rise of her cheekbones. "Why? Do you want a do-over? I promise I'll stick around afterward."

  Could he be any sexier?

  "No. I mean, yes, I would like that, but that's not the point of this conversation. Do you, uh, remember how the condom broke?"

  His frown deepened, his thumbs stilling. "What is the point of this conversation?"

  Say it. SAY IT. "I don't know how it happened. I mean, I do know, but we took every precaution, did everything right. It shouldn't have happened, but somehow...it did."

  "Ryanne," he snapped. Tremors rolled through him, rocking him against her. "I'm sure I'm misunderstanding you. What are you saying? Spell it out for me."

  "I...I'm...pregnant," she whispered. "I took a test this morning."

  His arms fell away from her, and he stumbled two steps back. The color drained from his cheeks. "The test was wrong. It had to be wrong."

  "I've been getting sick every morning." Still she whispered, and she didn't know why. "I had a period, or thought I did. It was lighter than normal. A lot lighter. Apparently that can happen early on."

  "A baby." He shook his head. "I can't be the father. I had the vasectomy."

  Oh, no, he didn't! "You yourself said your swimmers would remain active about two months after the procedure, and we had sex--what? A week later? And sometimes the pill fails. It happened. It's a miracle. This baby is a miracle. Our baby."

  "I don't... I can't..."

  "If you don't believe me, go get your load checked." Her voice rose with every word. "But I am pregnant, and the baby is yours."

  "I know it's mine. I wasn't saying... I'm just shocked and...I'm having trouble wrapping my head around this."

  "If you think I planned it..."

  "Did you?" he demanded now, his eyes narrowed.

  "No! My goal was to travel the world alone, not start a family with the man who continually dumps me."

  His shoulders rolled in, and for a moment, he looked utterly dejected. Then his spine straightened, as if it had just fused with steel. "It's not too late to...we can go to the city in the morning...you can--"

  Ryanne slapped him. His head whipped to the side, a bead of blood welling at the corner of his lower lip. He'd pushed her past her emotional limit and awoke momma bear instincts. Must protect my cub.

  "I knew you'd go there," she spat, "but I prayed I was wrong."

  He opened his mouth.

  "I can't believe you used to guard our country. You can't even guard a womb!" As she stood there, staring at him, panting, her hands balled. Disappointment blended with the rage simmering inside her. "I told you my father wanted my mother to abort me. What would have happened if she'd listened to him? You never would have met me. Is that what you wish for, Jude? No Ryanne, no baby. No family, no pain."

  He flinched as if she'd slapped him a second time.

  Deep breath in, out. Knew this wasn't going to be easy. "Look. I didn't expect you to take the news well, and I understand why you're upset."

  His expression hardened. "No, Ryanne. You don't understand." His tone hardened, too. "You can't possibly understand."

  "You're not the only one who's lost a loved one," she reminded him softly.

  "Yes, but I'm the only one who's lost a child."

  "And yet that is exactly what you want me to do--lose my child."

  Another flinch. He almost looked feral as he pressed a hand against his chest and stumbled back another step. "I'm sorry. I am sorry. I still want to be with you, but I can't deal with..." He waved a hand toward her stomach. "I just can't."

  Pain, so much pain. A dagger in her heart. "So that's it, then? We're done?"

  "According to you, we were done already."

  "According to you, we were going to have now and always because you weren't going to give up on me ever again."

  Yet another flinch. She wasn't pulling her punches tonight. Couldn't. Her future, her baby's future, were at stake.

  "I...don't know. I need to think. You've had time to process this, I haven't. So give me a few days, okay. Please." That said, he turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, leaving her alone--something he'd promised never to do again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  JUDE FELT AS if he'd come full circle. From the lowest of lows to the highest of highs not just once but twice--and now he was lower than the lowest of lows. Because yes, he'd somehow dug deeper.

  He stumbled out of his truck and fell to his knees. He'd done this before, soon after Ryanne had begun to tempt him with her beauty and charm. He'd railed about the travesty of his life that had been spinning out of control.

  How could he have known things could get worse?

  He'd just begun to crawl out from the muck of his past. He'd begun to heal, had even found moments of humor, sorrow unable to intrude.

  Now, grief was a razor in his chest, as strong as the day Constance and the girls had died. That razor slashed his heart to ribbons, causing a slow hemorrhage of any hope he'd managed to cultivate.

  Ryanne was pregnant with his child. His baby.

  A baby he would inevitably love.

  A baby he could lose in a million different ways.

  He'd always known death was too powerful to stop, but he'd never suspected life was, too.

  How could this have happened? They'd taken every precaution.

  He'd been prepared to open himself up to Ryanne, to spend the rest of his days with her. But a baby--a baby he couldn't protect twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week...

  Abject fear grabbed his heart and squeezed. A vise-grip he couldn't escape. Thorns seemed to grow inside his throat, snagging every breath he managed to take, leaving him gasping. He wouldn't survive the loss of another child. He would finally, blessedly--gladly--break his promise to Constance and give up.

  Not just broken anymore. Twisted. Shattered.

  His ears twitched as tires squealed. A car door opened, slammed shut. Rushed footsteps pounded into the ground. He didn't turn, didn't care who'd intruded upon him. Didn't care--until someone dropped beside him, strong arms wrapping around him. Brock. Brock had come for him.

  "Ryanne told me," his friend said. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, man."

  Jude clung to him, so grateful for the bond they shared. A bond stronger than blood. Brock was his brother in every way that mattered, and by some miracle, the man seemed to absorb the worst of Jude's grief, leaving him cognizant enough to realize n
o one should ever have to apologize for the miracle of a new and precious life.

  He remembered the joy he'd experienced when Constance had showed him the pregnancy test. Remembered how they'd laughed and held each other, talked long into the night about possible names, guessing which of their features the baby would have. He'd done none of that with Ryanne. He'd snapped and snarled at her, made horrible accusations, then left her to deal with the wild flux of emotions on her own.

  "A baby," he croaked.

  "Yeah. I think you've got the most potent sperm in history," Brock replied, his tone dry. "Face it, your troopers are determined to become people."

  Jude barked out a laugh, surprised he could find humor in the situation. Finally he released his friend and fell back into the grass, peering up at the night sky. Without clouds to obscure the light, the stars glittered like diamonds on a bed of black velvet.

  "I'm going to be an uncle again. This time, I want to be called Uncle B. Wait. No. Uncle Bro has a better ring to it." Brock thought for a moment, nodded. "Yeah. That's the winner. And okay, okay, if you want me to step up and be the daddy this go-round, I'll jump on that grenade. The thought of Ryanne in my--Umph."

  Jude elbowed his friend in the chest, shutting him up.

  A chuckling Brock rubbed the spot where a bruise would most definitely form. "What Virgil said to you..."

  "Yeah." He already knew he would endure the worst future imaginable simply to have a past with Constance, Bailey and Hailey. Was the same true for Ryanne and her baby? Their baby.

  If he lost Ryanne tomorrow, would he regret the time he'd spent with her? No need to ponder. No. Absolutely not. She'd shown him how to laugh again. She'd breathed new life in his deadened soul.

  And what about their baby? Would he regret a single second of time he spent with their child?

  Hell, no.

  His fingers plowed through the grass, reaching cold, hard dirt. Why torture himself about the possible death of the child when nothing bad had happened? Most children in this part of the world survived infancy and adolescence, going on to live long, productive lives. Why not deal with the present, as if everything would turn out okay? In the meantime, he could defend Ryanne and the baby from any threat. With his life, if necessary.

  Protective instincts surged, almost too strong for his body to contain. Ryanne and the baby are mine. I protect what's mine.

  Whatever the cost.

  Decision made. Tension and dread drained from him, though he knew tough times were ahead, but with Ryanne at his side, he could face anything. That meant winning her back, no ifs, ands or buts about it.

  No more taking things slow. From now on, he would stick to her side as if he'd been surgically attached.

  *

  "LET'S GET MARRIED."

  The softly spoken words reverberated in Ryanne's head. She'd tossed and turned all night in her brand-new bed, tortured by thoughts of Jude's pain, and her mom's salvo.

  I couldn't help but overhear your confession to Jude because I was eavesdropping. I'm too young to be a grandmother, carino. Did I teach you nothing? This is not how you keep a man. Trust me.

  I didn't do it on purpose, Ryanne had snapped.

  Selma had sighed. I'm sorry, but this is not going to end well for you. You picked a runner.

  Not even Belle and the kittens had been able to soothe Ryanne, but finally, around noon, exhaustion set in and she'd fallen asleep. When next she'd opened her eyes, she'd found her baby daddy standing beside her bed, staring down at her, demanding to...get married?

  Stomach churning, she leaped to her feet and raced to the bathroom, where she vomited the contents of her stomach. Jude followed and held back her hair, a kind gesture, and one she appreciated. Didn't mean she no longer wanted to twist off his nuts.

  Weakened as she was, she didn't care about vomit-breath, or how sickly she appeared. She flushed the toilet and rested her clammy temple on the seat she'd cleaned last night, knowing this would happen. The vomiting part, not the Jude part.

  Light entered the small bathroom through a crack in the blinds, highlighting the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth. He'd had a little trouble sleeping himself, hadn't he?

  "Good morning to you, too," she muttered.

  Silent, he shuffled around the bathroom, gathering and wetting a washrag. After cleaning her brow and the corners of her mouth, he exited...returning with a glass of water and two saltine crackers.

  "Thanks." As she sipped the water and nibbled on the crackers, her stomach began to settle.

  He sat in front of her, his expression tight with determination. Finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry I reacted poorly when you shared the news about... I'm sorry. I lost Constance and the twins, and the thought of losing you and..." He shook his head.

  He couldn't even say the word baby anymore? "The thought of losing me destroyed you, so of course you ran away...thereby losing me. Seems like the perfect plan."

  "I never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed. Let's get married," he repeated.

  Irritation gave way to anger. "Yesterday you couldn't get away from me fast enough. Now you want to marry me because I'm pregnant. Do you know how insulting that is?" How soul-crushing. On her own, she wasn't good enough. Now that she would give birth to his spawn, she could share his last name.

  "I'm not allowed to change my mind? And just so you know, I want you for you. The baby is a...bonus."

  He'd gritted the word bonus, as if both syllables had been pushed through a wood chipper. "Look. I don't want to end things with you--" I don't? "But there's no need to rush into a commitment."

  "We're already committed," he grated.

  "No, we would be committed if you hadn't freaked out over the baby."

  "Ryanne--" He scrubbed his hand down his face. "I made a mistake. One I regret with every fiber of my being."

  Stay strong. Resist him. Otherwise she would only set herself up for a major heartache.

  "I'm not saying no to your oh, so romantic proposal." I'm not? "But I'm not saying yes, either." Better. "I need time to think, just like you did."

  A long while passed before he nodded, a single, stiff incline of his head. "Take all the time you need. Think." A calculated gleam appeared in his eyes. "In the meantime, you don't get sex until I get marriage."

  What! "You're blackmailing me with sex I can get somewhere else?"

  "No, I'm ultimatuming you with sex. And you will not turn to someone else. You try, and the guy, whoever he is, will end up in the hospital."

  The outlaw is back.

  Knees, weakening...

  "While I'm making threats," he added, "I might as well go for gold. I want you to stop working in the bar."

  What the what! "Excuse me?"

  "Just for a little while. When Dushku is no longer a threat, you can start again. Also, I don't want you living here. You'll move in with me, where I can keep you and...our child safe."

  So he wanted--no, expected--her to give up her livelihood and home? "No way, no how. I'll work, and I'll stay here. And guess what? I don't need to think about your marriage proposal any longer. My answer is no, no, a thousand times no. Take your orders and shove them, Jude Laurent."

  He remained undeterred and unaffected. "Your safety is important to me, Ryanne Wade-soon-to-be-Laurent. If you won't move in with me, I'll move in with you."

  She'd known the man was stubborn, but come on! This was spectacularly ridiculous. "You can't just decide to move in with me," she said, the words straining past clenched teeth.

  Ryanne Laurent.

  Ryanne Nicole Laurent.

  RNL.

  Argh! Even her mind was against her!

  "I can. I did. I will," he said. "If you change the locks, I'll just break in."

  She opened her mouth to blast him, only to decide against it. Why fight him on this issue when she planned to war with him on others? Besides, she could use him for sex--because yes, if she wanted him in her bed, he would end up in her bed. In the meantime, she woul
d have a few demands of her own. Like, he would be cooking her meals, doing her laundry and any other chores she opted not to do in order to punish him for refusing to give her space.

  And okay, yes, it might be nice having him around. A little Laurent resided in her womb, and she already loved the little booger. Why not make the best of the situation for his or her sake?

  "Are you going to insist on accompanying me to Rome?" she asked, out of curiosity...and desire. She wanted to travel with him.

  A muscle jumped beneath his eye. "You're still planning to hop on a plane and travel halfway around the world?"

  "For now. Later, I'll be traveling all the way around the world. That dream hasn't died."

  The muscle really jumped beneath his eye. "You've got a few weeks before you're scheduled to leave for your first trip. We have time to discuss the details."

  Oh, we do, do we?

  First, he had a few hard lessons to learn. "Let's get something straight, cowboy." Her strength returned, and she sat up. "Pregnancy hormones haven't caused my lady balls to shrink. You won't be making my decisions for me. Ever. If you keep trying, I'll kick you to the curb faster than you can beg me for another chance I'll refuse to give you."

  He studied her for an eternity, his navy gaze boring into her. Just when she shifted, growing uncomfortable and impatient, he broke the silence and said, "Why did you love Earl so much? Why did you move in with him rather than stay with your mother?"

  Uh, what had caused him to think about her stepdad?

  "I hated the way she changed for her men, the way she expected me to change, in order to make them happy. Earl let me be me. Why? What does it matter?"

  He nodded, as if she'd just explained the mysteries of the universe. Then he stood and helped her to her feet. "I'm going to the cabin to pack my things. I'll be back in a few hours."

  Oh, goodness gracious. "You're moving in today?"

  "Today."

  *

  TRUE TO HIS WORD, Jude moved into Ryanne's apartment that day. He took half the closet space, half the drawers in her dresser, and mixed his toiletries with hers. While she'd helped him unpack, she'd found a baby book filled with notes from his wife and pictures of his children.

  When Jude had noticed her with the book, he'd walked out of the room. But he hadn't ordered her to put the book away, so, progress.

  He waited on her hand and foot, and she soaked up the attention. Back ache? No problem. Jude would give her a massage. Sick? Hold tight. Jude would warm up a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Need the litter box cleaned? Jude to the rescue.