Crushed Page 10

  I shift on my bed, my attention flicking to the door as two nurses walk past. It’s been twenty minutes since a nurse told me she’d let Jackson know what room I’m in. Either she got sidetracked, or he wasn’t in the waiting room. My stomach growls with hunger and aches because it’s empty, but I’m not allowed to eat until after my procedure. I don’t know when it is, but there’s a fasting rule, apparently.

  I close my eyes for a moment to forget I’m in a hospital. I imagine myself resting on the day bed in my father’s backyard. It was my favorite spot as a teenager. It’s where Olivia and I spent most of our summers, complaining about boys.

  “She’s right in here.”

  I open my eyes as Jackson walks his tall, wide frame through the door, my backpack hanging from one shoulder. He smiles at me and it’s a genuine smile, one that makes all of my insides feel light and happy for the first time in a while.

  “Did the doctor speak to you about the procedure?” the nurse asks me and my stomach fills with rocks. “Sort of.”

  The nurse tucks her black bob behind one ear. “It’s called a D & C, all right? Basically, they’re going to dilate your cervix and then suction out the contents of your uterus. You’ll bleed after your procedure and experience some mild-to-moderate cramping, but it’s usually nothing more than what you’re used to when you get your period.”

  I frown. No slicing and dicing? “And that’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Oh. It sounds so simple…my lower lip quivers as my lungs shrink in size. It’s strange how something so life changing can be gone in the blink of an eye. She moves toward the end of the bed and grabs the clipboard. “There’s a waiver you need to sign, however, that acknowledges that you are aware of the risks associated with the procedure.”

  “Risks?”

  She unhooks the clipboard and flicks over a few sheets before reaching over and handing it to me. I feel Jackson slip in beside me as I read the waiver. Apparently, if they scratch my uterus up, there’s a chance I won’t be able to have any more children. He touches the small of my back and I tighten involuntarily under his touch. What are the chances of that happening? Does my surgeon have steady hands? I have so many questions, but I get the feeling I don’t have any other choice.

  “There’s also a consent form for us to send your placenta to the research team for further testing.”

  How morbid. With shaky hands, I sign all of the sheets she wants me to sign without protest. What’s the point? I just want to be done with this. When the nurse leaves, I roll onto my side to look at Jackson, who settles in the recliner beside the bed. “They’re going to be careful though, right?”

  “Of course, they are,” he says with absolute certainty. “They just need to cover their asses, that’s all.”

  Yeah. That’s all.

  “Olivia called. She wanted to come see you, but I told her no. If you want me to call her back—”

  “No.” I hold out my hand and touch his jean-clad knee. “Thank you. I’d rather not see her until after my procedure.”

  Relief touches his features and he relaxes his shoulders. I close my eyes. Everything is in motion. By tomorrow lunch time, this will all be over and I can focus on healing.

  This couldn’t have come at a worse time. With Jackson’s fight fast approaching, he can’t afford to lose, and this has to be the mother of all distractions.

  “Where’s the first place you want to go?” I ask him, my eyes still closed. “When you win?”

  “I don’t care as long as you’re with me.” Jackson drags a finger across my engagement ring and back. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Somewhere hot.” I look at him. “Somewhere we can swim naked all day and drink cocktails all night.”

  “There are lots of tropical islands about, Selena.” Jackson’s eyes flare wickedly. “That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

  I shrug. “Barbados, Bora Bora, Seychelles, Costa Rica, the Gold Coast. Pick one.”

  “Why pick just one? Let’s do them all.”

  “That’s a lot of money…”

  “We’ll have a lot of money.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “And we deserve it, don’t we?”

  “Do you think we deserve it? I mean, other people have suffered through worse relationships than ours, through harder situations too.”

  “Fuck that.” He leans back, grinning wildly. “We deserve it all. The white beaches, cocktails, tourist t-shirts, and the nudity.”

  I don’t feel like I deserve it. I haven’t taken anything seriously my whole life. Not school, not work, not anything. I’ve always seen life as one giant holiday, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing. I’m in debt from courses I’ve started and not finished. The only experience I have under my belt is working for my father. Selena Graham, receptionist. That’s all I have. Scratch that. I don’t even have that anymore since my father refuses to talk to me until I leave Jackson, and that’s not going to happen any time soon. I know Jackson and I may not have the best relationship—or the healthiest—but who does? Even Seth and Olivia have their issues. I mean, Seth’s protectiveness of Olivia is borderline psychotic…I guess Jackson’s can be sometimes too. Still, I’d give up a perfect, TV soap romance for what Jackson and I have any day.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jackson

  Even late into the night Selena doesn’t sleep. She says she’s fine, but I see the apprehension in her sad stare. Her stomach growls loudly, but she isn’t allowed to eat because the surgery requires her to fast. I’m hungry too, but I don’t dare bring it up or complain.

  At nine p.m., the nurse tells me I have to leave. I refuse, obviously, and it only buys me another fifteen minutes with Selena before the nurse returns with reinforcements of the rent-a-cop kind. Reluctantly, I kiss Selena on the head and promise I’ll be back first thing in the morning…which brings me to now.

  I pull up outside Selena’s house, my wide stare not leaving the red Porsche in front of me. I wouldn’t have looked twice at it if it weren’t for the personalized number plate that read: AM3LIA. My stomach drops to make room for my heart as it slams against my ribs. I don’t turn my car off. Instead, I put it in reverse. I can’t deal with her shit right now. I can’t look her in the face and tell her about Selena. I can feel the smug relief on her features that I’m not having a baby creep across my skin now.

  I’m about to leave when Selena’s bedroom light flicks on, lighting up an otherwise dark and quiet house. I press my foot to the brake and shut off my lights. What the hell is she doing inside the damn house? I turn my car off and shove open the door. How did she get in? I slam it shut and storm right up to Selena’s front door.

  I burst through it, my voice unrecognizable as I shout her name. The strain burns my throat while I stand in the front hall, not daring to walk further into her trap. I wait in silence, my fist clenched at my sides, my nostrils flaring as I try to calm my racing heart.

  “Amelia!” I shout again, kicking the door closed behind me.

  My skin vibrates and my blood rushes around my veins.

  “Patience has never been your strong suit,” she calls back, amusement lacing her tone.

  I hear her heels tap along the tiles before I see her and the sound transports me back to a night Selena and I spent together months and months ago. Only the person who rounds the corner is not a naked blonde, wearing only a pair of simple black red-bottom shoes. It’s a redhead, her slender body encased in a tight white tube dress with a pair of white heels to match.

  Amelia regards me curiously, her eager stare raking me from head to toe. “Hm. You’re not the innocent boy I met so long ago anymore, are you?”

  No. I’m not getting into this with her right now. “What are you doing here?”

  She shrugs her bare shoulders, slowing her approach. “Looking for you. Your voicemail reached its limits.”

  “How did you get in?”

  Amelia tilts her head to the side and her long, red hair
tumbles over her shoulder. “You were there when we broke into that upscale drug store. This was a piece of cake compared to that.”

  I hate how she brings up past events like they mean anything to me anymore. I turn and open the heavy door. “Get out.”

  “Aw.” She pouts her perfect lips. I cringe at the thought of referring to them as ‘perfect.’ “I thought we were mature enough to have a civilized conversation…”

  “You mean like last time? When you forced yourself on me?”

  She simpers, like the evil bitch she is. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it, because you fucking did.”

  “And then you tried to kill yourself.” I point out, not wanting to get caught in her messed up web again.

  Amelia rolls her eyes like attempting to take her own life wasn’t a big deal at all. “I’m known to be a little dramatic, so what?”

  “Dramatic? Try psychopathic.”

  “What’s the difference? I mean, really?” She saunters closer.

  Tap, tap, tap go her shoes. Grabbing the handle from me, she closes the front door.

  “I want you to leave.” My voice fails to come across as firm as I want it to be. Why? Because she’s so close. Her perfume chokes me and it’d be a lie if I said I don’t find her intimidating. When she’s this close, this certain, I’m thrown back years and it’s threatening.

  “I’m not leaving until we have the discussion I’ve been wanting to have with you all day.” Amelia turns away, flicking her red hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s work related.”

  I slide my teeth together. I should leave. I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t leave her alone in Selena’s house. God knows what she will get up to. Despite my better judgement, despite all of the alarm bells going off in my head, I follow her down Selena’s main hall and into her sitting room. I lean against the wall closest to the exit while Amelia lowers herself into an armchair. She sits on the edge and crosses one thin leg over the other. “Sorry to hear about Selena.”

  I flinch. Firstly, the tone of her voice doesn’t imply that she’s sorry at all, and secondly, how the hell does she even know?

  “Where did you hear—”

  “Seth and Olivia talk about a lot of problems openly in the gym. You’d be surprised what juicy gossip you hear on your afternoon jog.”

  I bite my tongue. I’m not going to talk about this with her. Not now. Not ever. “You said you wanted to talk about work,” I snap, folding my arms across my chest.

  “I can’t lead up to it?”

  “You can’t talk about that with me. It has nothing to do with you.”

  She thins her eyes. “I’m trying to be supportive.”

  Supportive? Now? Where was her support when I truly needed it? When I was standing on the edge of a cliff spitting bourbon into the ocean, contemplating throwing myself into the dark depths below? Where was she? She was fucking a biker for drugs. How’s that for support.

  “I don’t need your support.” Anger builds in my blood, simmering like water in a pot on the stove. “I thought I made it clear to you, but I guess I haven’t.” I step forward. “I hate you. In fact, I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you.”

  Her eyes flare with delight. “If you need someone to take your anger out on—”

  “—I’m not fucking around, Amelia.” I push off the wall and pace. “I’m not playing games with you. If I didn’t have plans to leave this shithole behind, I would kill you.”

  My flesh crawls. No one can get under my skin like she can.

  No one.

  Exhaling, Amelia rests her elbow on the arm rest.

  “Fine. Business. Are you ready for the fight?” she asks, changing the subject before I finally snap and follow through with my threat.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re distracted.”

  Wow. That’s some real psychic shit right there. Not. “Of course, I’m distracted. My fiancée is in the hospital about to have a bunch of cells that was supposed to be my baby sucked out of her.”

  I push my fingers through my hair. I shouldn’t be here. Not with Amelia. Not by myself. I should be in the hospital with Selena.

  “Your fiancée?”

  I stop pacing and look at Amelia. Her face shows no emotion…and that scares the hell out of me. It shouldn’t, but it does.

  “I asked Selena to marry me. She said yes.”

  Amelia lifts herself off the armchair and my entire body tightens. “I still have your grandmother’s ring that you proposed to me with.”

  I cringe, my stomach hurling as I recall that night. She took that ring and laughed in my face. I thought I forced it from memory, but here it is. She broke my heart that night…for the one millionth time. My grandmother gave it to me on her deathbed and told me to give it to a girl who was worthy of it. If she knew I’d given it to Amelia, she’d never forgive me.

  “You said you sold it.”

  “Of course I didn’t sell it.” She reaches into her dress and plucks the old ruby and gold ring from below her sweetheart neckline. “I kept it all this time.”

  Pinching it between her fingers, she slips it onto her finger. Heat prickles up the back of my neck and burns my ears. I know she’s fishing for a reaction from me, but she’s not going to get one. That ring is dead to me. It holds too many painful memories. To take it back and then put it on Selena’s finger would be too disrespectful. I’d rather I never see it again or the finger it’s currently attached to.

  “Maybe what happened with Selena, her pregnancy, is meant to be…” Amelia slips closer, her chest almost grazing mine.

  A lump forms in my throat, but I swallow it down. Meant to be?

  “How can you say that?” I ask, my voice quiet.

  “Come on, Jackie. The universe is practically begging us to get back together…” She touches me, her palms warm and flat against my chest.

  “Funny you say that…” I place my hands over hers. She melts against me, her eyes flicking between my stare and my lips. “…because every time the universe puts you and me together, it only reinforces my need to get as far away from you as I possibly can.”

  She cuts her eyes at me. “I think you’re afraid to admit how much you still love me.”

  I tighten my fingers around hers and lift them off me. “I can assure you, it’s so very much the opposite.”

  Exhaling with a growl, Amelia throws her hands up. “What do you see in Selena that is so special, huh?”

  “I don’t see you. That’s the main thing.”

  She turns away from me and paces forward. “Are you happy with your mediocre life? With your vanilla sex and uneventful days?”

  “I’m very happy.”

  “Prove it,” she demands, whirling around.

  “Prove it?” I cut my eyes at her. “You can’t stand it, can you?”

  “What?”

  “That I am hopelessly in love with someone who treats me better than you ever did—even on her bad days.” I inch forward. “You want proof? I’ll throw this fight just to continue living my mediocre life with someone who genuinely cares about me. I don’t need you or your money to be happy.”

  Amelia smirks, planting a manicured hand on her hips. She doesn’t believe me…until she does. I’m not bluffing. If proving to Amelia once and for all that I love Selena more than I ever loved her finally gets her out of my life, then so be it. I’d give it all up—our plans—everything.

  “No need to be so dramatic.” She sighs, sauntering toward the hall that leads to the front door. “I only came by to make sure you’re ready for the fight. Fucking you would have been a bonus, but…maybe next time, then.”

  “I’m ready for the fight,” I say, ignoring the last part.

  As long as my dick is my own, I won’t be putting it anywhere near the clusterfuck that is Amelia Petrovic.

  “Good, ’cause I put a lot of money on you. You win and we’re both set for life. That’s all I want.”

  I simper. Some thi
ngs never change. Amelia has always had an affinity for money. It’s the only thing more addictive to her than causing someone else pain.

  “Money is all you ever want.”

  She smiles over her shoulder. “Money is my first love.”

  “And here I thought I was.”

  Amelia opens the door and steps out. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

  She closes the door and I wait, staring at it until I’m certain she’s not coming back. Then, I lock it. There’s something to be said about being in Amelia’s presence. It’s the only time I can stand perfectly still and have every muscle in my body scream in pain. She sucks all of my energy out with a single bat of her eyelids.

  I saunter back into the sitting room and drop onto the couch with a heavy sigh. The couch feels like a cloud underneath my tired body. It’s fucking magical.

  I gather some strength before pulling my phone from my pocket and swiping the screen. In the top right corner, my battery meter flashes, alerting me that my battery level is critically low. If they can just put me through to her room so I can hear her voice once more before I sleep. I hit dial…

  …and my phone dies.

  Damn. Closing my eyes, I toss my phone against the carpet and sit up. I can’t sleep now. I can’t relax. I can’t wind down. I push myself onto my feet and storm down the hall with my car keys in my hand. I wonder if the tattoo joint on the corner of Smith and West is open this late?

  Selena

  I clench my cramping abdomen as the general anesthetic begins to wear off.

  That’s it.

  No more pregnancy. No more impending motherhood. No more tumor.

  I shed a tear. I can’t help but feel like I’ve been transported back ten years. Suddenly, my life is back to having no meaning.

  My surgery was early in the morning. They told me they’d contact Jackson to let him know when visiting hours were, but that was hours ago now. I push off my blanket and glance down at my compression socks. I hate them. They’re too tight.

  Exhaling, I rub my face. I regret not bringing my phone. I would have if I knew they’d send Jackson away. So many times last night I wanted to hear his voice, but I couldn’t. I’ve never felt so alone, and what’s worse is that in here, my problem feels so small compared to what others are going through. It’s like I can’t feel sorry for myself for fear of being judged. I’m out of the woods now. What could I possibly have to complain about?