Rock Bottom - Lilley R. K. (книги серии онлайн .txt) 📗

“Wouldn’t that be something?” he nuzzled into my neck.

“Wouldn’t it though?” Each word was clipped out neatly through my teeth.

I wanted to say more, but lost my nerve, and the moment passed.

We were walking with the kids and the dogs, a leisurely after dinner stroll.

The boys spotted some of their buddies playing in the grass, and ran off to join them.

Tristan and I stopped, letting the dogs roam on the far end of their leashes as the boys greeted their friends.

Tristan had the brunt of the leashes, so I had one hand free, and I was clutching my phone with it.  I couldn’t find words.  It seemed easier to express myself in pictures for this.

There was something so inherently nerve-wracking about breaking this news to him.  We’d talked about it endlessly.  And no one could say we hadn’t been giving it our best efforts.

Even so, my hand was shaking as I showed him the picture on my phone.

It showed the result of three pregnancy tests.  One had a blue cross, one read simply Pregnant, and the third contained two dark pink parallel lines, one line slightly more faded than the other.

Three positive results, by three different brands.  I was nothing if not thorough.

He didn’t react much at first, as though his brain wasn’t making sense of it.  Slowly, his brow furrowed, his mouth forming a question.  He grabbed my phone out of my hand, pulling it closer to his face, though his eyesight was keen.

“What the…?” he asked, his voice a croak.  “What on earth…?”

It shouldn’t have been a shock to either of us that we’d been successful, all things considered, but it had certainly been a shock to me.  Him as well, it was apparent by the slack-jawed surprise on his face.

Belatedly, I realized that he’d dropped the lone leash from his right hand.  The most troublesome one.

I gasped and pointed.  Coffeecup had taken off at a sprint and was nearly out of sight.

“Coffeecup!” I exclaimed.  “The chickens!”

“Shit!” Tristan shouted, handing me the rest of the leashes, shoving my phone in his back pocket, and tearing off after the hair-brained dog.

“Bad word, bad word!” Several of the kids in the yard pointed out.

I’d have smacked my forehead if I had a free hand.

I didn’t tear off after him, as I normally would have.  I wouldn’t be running through ditches, chasing after dogs again, any time soon.  Instead, I held onto the rest of the leashes and waited, my heart in my throat.

The boys approached me, looking concerned.

Mat tugged on my shirt.  His eyes were wide, his mouth shaped into an O.  They’d been talking with their friends, and hadn’t seen the initial escape.  “What happened, boo?”

“Coffeecup got loose.”

“Oh no!” Mat cried.

“It’s going to be a blood bath!” Ivan added, sounding a little too gleeful about the notion.

“Ivan,” I chided.

“It looks like chicken for dinner!” he announced loudly, with relish, sending the neighbor kids into peals of laughter.

I rolled my eyes.  Boys.

“Maybe he won’t kill too many,” Mat assured me, studying my face.  “Don’t worry, boo.  I think he ate right before we left the house.”

I couldn’t stifle a laugh at that, kissing the top of his head.

Tristan returned quickly, Coffeecup in tow.  He was running.  I studied Coffeecup, but I didn’t see any blood around his mouth, which was good.

“I caught him in time,” Tristan gasped as he stopped in front of me.  He handed Coffeecup’s leash to Mat, and handed off the rest of my leashes to Ivan, his grin so big it was blinding.

After the dogs were squared away, he approached me, finally meeting my stare.

His hands went to my hips, and he hoisted me up high, spinning me.

What I saw in his eyes then…wonder, joy, and undisguised longing.  It was all I could have hoped for.

He’d wanted this, truly wanted his, as I had.

“I can’t quite believe it,” he said softly as he lowered me.

My smile was tremulous.  “It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

His smile was as soft and tender as I ever could have hoped for.  “It’s wonderful.  Best news I’ve ever had.  What a joy you are for me, Danika.  A miracle.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TRISTAN

I cut the engine, staring with trepidation at my mom’s house.

Danika gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulders.  This had been her idea.  My inclination had been to stay away forever, but I knew she was right.  This needed to be settled.  Whether I liked it or not, my estrangement from my mother had been weighing on me.

“You coming in?” I asked her.

“I’ll wait out here for a bit.  I think it’s for the best.  Don’t you?”

Did I?  I wasn’t sure.  If I was honest, I really didn’t want to deal with any of it.

I needed a drink, but I tried not to break out the booze at ten in the morning, when I was with Danika.

“Wish me luck,” I said with a heavy sigh, getting out of the car.

“Good luck,” she called out encouragingly just before I shut the door.

I knocked on the door, then rang the bell, waited a full minute, then tried again.  Finally, I used my key, dreading what I’d find.

The place was trashed, top to bottom.  Pictures were knocked off the walls, a colorful vase from the entryway table smashed to bits on the floor.  My mom was on a bender.  I wasn’t even a little bit surprised.

The kitchen was covered in filth, dishes with rotting food filling the sink.  I figured it hadn’t been cleaned since the funeral.  I had to cover my nose and mouth to keep from retching as I made my way through.

The rest of the house that I saw wasn’t much better, though none of the rooms were as ripe as the kitchen, they’d all been through hell.  I’d seen her do this before, after particularly bad break-ups, but never this extreme.

I found her in the living room, sprawled out on the couch, wearing sweats and a robe, an open bottle of tequila within easy reach of her open hand.

She was conscious, and just coherent enough to recognize me at a glance.  “You,” she began with a sneer, “you’ve got a nerve, showing your face around here.”

I had to remove a pile of clothes to take a seat in the armchair across from her.  I met her malevolent gaze squarely, though it was an effort.  “I came to check on you.  Danika thought you might need some help.  I see she was right.”

“Don’t bring her into this!  This is atween you and me!” she slurred.

I sighed.  I’d hoped giving her time would make her see some reason, but it was apparent it had not.  She was determined to blame me for this.  “What’s between you and me?  Go ahead.  Let’s hear it.”

“You killed my baby!  You and your friends and that stupid band.  Always out partying, always drinking, and whoring, and corrupting my baby boy.”

I shook my head, glancing around the room.  If she wanted to blame someone for her youngest child overdosing on a combination of drugs and alcohol, she hadn’t had to look beyond herself.  I tried hard not to tell her that, though.  I’d come to try to help her, not make her worse, but it went against every instinct I had not to go on the offensive when I was under attack.

“I loved Jared, Mom.  You think this isn’t killing me, too?  I’d do anything to undo what happened to him.  Can’t you see that?  I wasn’t even with him when it happened—“

She started sobbing.  “My baby boy was all alone when he died.  How could you let him die all alone?”

“I’d have been there if I could have.  I’d have stopped it.”

“You got him hooked on those drugs!  This was your fault!”  She grabbed the nearest object, well almost nearest.  I couldn’t miss the fact that she didn’t harm her precious bottle of tequila, instead going for the lamp, one of the few intact items in the room.

I dodged it easily, and tried to ignore her.

I ignored her vague curses.