He takes in a sudden breath and blows out a long exhale.
“The results said you’re pregnant, Charlie.”
Adrenaline spikes in my chest, and my heart feels like it stopped beating. My body heats to an inferno and my brain becomes mush.
“Wh-what?” I stutter, blinking rapidly, hoping one of the times I open my eyes I’ll wake from this dream. Landon untangles his fingers from his hair and grabs me by the arm, yanking me into him. He places me between his legs and pulls my back onto his chest.
“You’re pregnant. You’re carrying my child inside you,” he whispers, trailing his hands down my arms and to my abdomen, laying claim on my stomach.
My lips part with disbelief. I’m carrying a Blackwell inside me. A Blackwell and an Evans, two feuding households, and they’ve joined together to make one little heartbeat.
“Are you sure I’m pregnant?” I tilt my head up, not sure what the doctor has told him exactly, what the paperwork entailed. Could it be a mistake?
He runs his hand through his hair and clenches his jaw.
“I have some pregnancy tests in the car, just to make—”
“Get them,” I interrupt, pulling from his lap. I need to know for sure. I can’t be a mother. I can’t even take care of myself.
When he heads out, I move toward a door and feel along the wall for a light switch, turning it on to find a large bathroom. A glass shower and a tub, which could hold at least five people, fill the room, but all I’m looking for is a toilet right now. Stepping toward it, the corner of my eye catches my reflection and I stop. I look a mess. My hair is mussed, and I have tan lines claiming my skin. I turn and look at my stomach, which still looks the same – flat. My boobs are still small. Aren’t you supposed to get big boobs when you’re pregnant?
“Here we go.” Landon sets a glass of water on the counter as he empties a plastic bag. Four boxes of pregnancy tests scatter along the surface, all a different brand. I grab a box and tear it open with my teeth, ready for answers.
I sit on the toilet and pull a pink cap off one, a cotton swab sticking out from the end of the stick. I’m assuming I piss on this end. I shove it between my legs and catch Landon leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.
“Are you just going to stand there while I pee?” I ask, suddenly feeling shy.
“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs, the muscles in his arms rippling as he chuckles.
“I can’t pee with you standing there,” I interject, scowling at him. He pushes off the doorframe and untucks one arm, turning on the faucet before leaning back against the doorframe.
I shake my head and try to concentrate. Who knew peeing would require so much focus? Listening to the water in the sink, I finally relax and pee.
I pee on all of the sticks, and now Landon and I are hovering over them as they sit on the bathroom counter. One finally shows a plus sign, the others slowly following suit. They all show positive, some lighter than others. I grip the counter and close my eyes. It’s for sure. I’m pregnant.
“I can’t even take care of myself.” I choke with emotion, looking at the tests.
“I’m here, Charlie. You’ll never struggle again. You’re mine, and I told you that you’d never be alone again.” He steps behind me and nips the top of my shoulder.
“Is this why you saved me? ‘Cause I have your child in me?” I question, looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“No,” he blurts quickly. “I saved you because I love you. Because you’re mine and that baby is mine. I will protect what’s mine, and I’ll kill whoever steps in front of that.”
He loves me? I want to respond, but I can’t. I’m in shock, and I want to be sure I truly love Landon when I say it. I don’t want to think I love him, or might love him. I want to know that the ache in my chest and the lust in my body is because I undeniably love him.
“Let’s feed you. I know you haven’t eaten.” He grabs my hand and pulls me from the pee sticks on the counter. It doesn’t seem to bother him that I didn’t say ‘I love you’ back, which is a relief. I can’t dive into that right now.
“I’m not hungry, really,” I protest, trying to head back toward the bed. He turns his face hard, his jaw defined in tension.
“You will eat, damn it. Starving yourself is not an option, so go get a shower, and I’ll meet you in the kitchen, Charlie. End of.” His tone is so brutally harsh it has my eyes wide. Gone with the sentimental shit and back with full-force Landon Blackwell. As he strides out of the room, those ominous wings with the one white feather stand out against his golden skin. His back is ripped with muscles. The wings don’t scare me nearly as before, not now that I know what the white little feather stands for: redemption.
TWENTY-THREE
CHARLIE