The O’Connells Books 10 - 12

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

She stared at her image in the mirror, the dark circles under her eyes, as she brushed her teeth. Her long hair was a mess, and the light auburn highlights were starting to fade. It was time for another dye job. Maybe she’d go all red, a lighter, brighter shade this time.

Jack leaned against the sink, right beside her, his arms crossed, looking down on her, dressed so casually in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and she wondered for a moment whether he’d start in on her again.

Karen spit in the sink, then turned on the tap and filled a cup with water to rinse her mouth. She spat again and rinsed off her toothbrush before tucking it back in the holder beside Jack’s. He handed her a towel before she could reach for it, and she hesitated only a second before taking it.

“Thank you,” she said.

He didn’t smile, just blew out a breath and leaned back against the sink, so close he was almost touching her. She would have to walk around him to leave the bathroom, because he was right there in her space. She squeezed the towel after wiping her face and hands, and he took it from her and ran his hand down her arm, over the gray long-sleeved shirt she wore over cream-colored sweats, something she never slept in but had the night before.

“We need talk to talk about this, and you need to call your doctor,” Jack said. It was the same thing he’d hammered into her over and over since getting her into the car at Marcus’s, until she’d walked into the bathroom, locked the door, and ran the bath. Then she had just sat there until the water went cold, because she didn’t want to talk about the fact that her excitement, terror, and joy had crashed and burned in a matter of seconds.

“Jack, stop. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well, we’re going to. You can’t just drop a bomb on me like you did last night, saying you were pregnant and then telling me you lost the baby, then giving me the silent treatment. What the hell am I supposed to think, Karen? This isn’t the way to handle this. You haven’t told me when you found out. I have a hundred questions. I have every right to know.”

“You mean like I had the right to know about the governor ticket? Seriously, Jack, how long did you know before you told me? Seems we both have secrets.”

Okay, maybe she shouldn’t have said it quite like that. A dark expression filled his face, and something flickered in those icy blue eyes. His mouth was set firm amid the whiskers that had turned into a beard, which he’d have to start trimming soon. He stood up slowly, away from the sink, right into her space, and she took a step back from the energy that moved through him. He was furious, pushed too far.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said, lifting her hands to sweep her hair back.

He angled his head and didn’t pull his gaze, not backing down. “The call came yesterday before I picked up Brady,” he said. “If you recall, you were in a meeting, and we swung by and picked you up after. I told you as soon as you and I were alone, the first chance I had. I wasn’t hiding anything. I wasn’t about to talk in front Brady, because this was between you and me. So enough trying to turn this on me, Karen. We’re talking about this, the baby, and who’s hiding things from who. When, exactly, did you find out you were pregnant and had lost the baby? I have a right to know everything.”

The demand in his voice was clear, and she pulled in a breath, trying to figure out how to tell him, to talk about this. She went to take a step around him, because the words just wouldn’t come, but his hand slapped around her arm and held her. She could feel his strength even though he wasn’t hurting her.

“No, you’re not walking away again,” he said. “I’m tired of you doing this every time s**t hits the fan and you don’t want to talk about something. You ignored me all night and then crawled into bed and gave me your back, going to sleep without answering me. Not this morning, Karen…”

She just shook her head and swallowed, feeling tired even though she’d slept. “I just need to settle my head,” she said, breathing out, and he dropped his hand as if he were done with her. His mood had gone from confrontational to dismissive, and he walked out of the bathroom, running his hand through his thick dark hair.

She heard him yank open a drawer in the bedroom. The way he did it, she knew he was pissed, and when she stepped out, he had his back to her and was sitting on the unmade bed, pulling on socks.

She pulled her arms across her chest as she leaned in the doorway, just staring at his back even though she could see his face in the mirror of the dresser. “I wasn’t sure I was pregnant. I was just feeling tired, not well…off. I hadn’t realized I was late. I dropped in to see my doctor two days ago, and she did a blood test and a pregnancy test. I found out then and was just waiting for the official word from the blood test. I was planning on telling you when I knew for sure, but when the doctor called yesterday, she said the blood test showed that although I had been pregnant, the HCG levels meant I had likely miscarried.”

Jack slid around on the bed from where he sat and said nothing. His gaze reached out to her. He was quiet, thinking, and she couldn’t hide from him when he looked at her the way he was now. “Your first call should’ve been to me, the moment you knew, the moment you suspected. You aren’t in this by yourself. This is you and me, in this together. Why didn’t you say anything to me about not feeling well? You had to wonder if you were pregnant. You said the doctor told you you’d likely miscarried, so you don’t know for sure? Like, what the hell, Karen? Then you were drowning your sorrows last night at your brother’s…”

He was standing now, quickly heading to that place where he was ready to rant and carry on. Maybe he’d even yell at her. He took a step and then made a rude sound as he ran his hand over his hair again, rubbing the top of his head, that motion he made when he was frustrated. He looked at the floor and away and then back to her, jabbing his hand her way.

“Get your shoes on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“What?” She moved away from the doorway at the demand in his tone. “Go where? Why?”

He walked to the dresser again, really digging in, and yanked open her drawer to pull out socks and toss them to her, hard, fast. She knew he was really pissed as she grabbed them.

“Put those on now,” he said. “We’re leaving. And call your doctor, or I swear to God I will, Karen. I’m done with this bullshit of yours. Likely miscarried? No, we’re dealing with this right now, and if your doctor won’t see us, we’re going to the hospital. You don’t get to slip into silence and not share anything. You seem to forget this is my baby, too. If you’re pregnant, I should know the moment you do, the moment you think you are. The moment you weren’t feeling well, the moment you called the doctor, you should have said something, yet you said nothing. Two days ago, really?”

Karen just pulled in a breath and then another as she clutched the socks, feeling the bite of his words. She didn’t want to have to deal with his ego or his frustration. She tossed the socks on the bed and then strode out of the bedroom, taking in the open door to her home office, with its daybed, where Brady had slept, his clothes on the floor and the bed unmade.

She picked up the clothes and thought she heard Jack swear under his breath. Yeah, she had the ability to push all his buttons and provoke him. She just couldn’t help it. She dumped Brady’s black jeans in the wicker hamper in the corner along with his shirts and socks and T-shirts and the pants he slept in, then started to make the daybed, pulling up the sheets and the comforter. She reached for the pillow on the floor when she heard Jack behind her, and she turned to see him in the doorway, unsmiling, dragging his hand over his face with a scrape of whiskers.

“Karen, put your shoes on, please.”

It was the calmness in his tone that had her holding the pillow against her stomach, against her chest. She stood there and took in the man she loved so deeply, who had turned her life upside down and likely always would. Everything about them together was anything but easy. He took another step, a rather calm one, toward her.

“Please, for once, just do as you’re told,” he said. “Make it easy and stop fighting me.” His voice was soft and low, and he pulled in another breath as he strode toward her and reached for the pillow she was holding so tightly. He gave it a gentle tug and pulled it from her hands, then tossed it on the bed.

The way he touched her and slid his hand over her arm, the way he pulled her gently toward him, a step closer, she felt her eyes burn, felt her throat thicken. He pulled her against him, his hand sliding over the back of her head as she fisted his shirt, and she couldn’t fight the tears, though she didn’t understand where they’d come from.

“Shh…” was all he said as she cried against him. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he held her so tightly. “Why do you have to make everything a fight?” He kissed her head again, holding her so close, just letting her cry.