“Phantom pain,” he said quietly. “When I let my emotions get the better of me, my mind remembers the pain.”
I looked up into his eyes before dropping my gaze to his mouth. I had no control when it came to Jude. It was why I tried to stay away from him.
“What did you need, babe?”
“Huh?” I asked, looking into his eyes again.
“You knocked on the door; I assume you needed something.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, backing out of his embrace. I couldn’t think straight with his hands on me. “I have a doctor’s appointment today. I wanted to let you know. I can have Rian take me—”
“The fuck he will,” Jude growled as he stood and walked toward me. “I’ll take you. And I’m coming in with you too.”
“That isn’t neces—”
“Morgan,” he said, placing a finger over my lips. “I want to be there. For everything.”
“Okay,” I whispered. “It’s in an hour.”
“Go get ready, and we’ll stop and get lunch afterwards.” He slapped my butt as he walked by, heading back to his desk.
I was so caught off guard that I didn’t say anything about lunch. I turned and left the room, my head dazed by the way he touched me. The way he looked at me. The way he saideverything. Like I was the everything he wanted.
But I knew better. He’d left me in Rosewood. As soon as he knew my father and brother were coming, he ran like a coward. It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
The ride to the doctor’s office was quiet as I stared out the window of Jude’s truck. Everything looked the same, and memories from the four years I lived here flashed through my head.
The day I met Jude.
Our first date.
My first ride on his motorcycle, pressed against his back.
The day he died.
The day our son died.
He reached over and took my hand. He didn’t say a word, and I knew he was feeling what I was.
Fear, but also hope.
We were in new territory here. The last time I was pregnant, we hadn’t even made it to the first appointment. I knew what to expect because of the appointment I had in New Orleans.
Jude was going in blind.
That was why I let him hold my hand. Why I held his a little tighter than I should have.
That was what I told myself, anyway.
It wasn’t because I was afraid the doctor was wrong. Or that something had happened between then and now. I was three months pregnant and, aside from the coffee tasting bitter no matter how much sugar I added, I hadn’t had any morning sickness.
We pulled up in front of the brick building, and Jude turned off the vehicle.
“You ready?” he asked.
I looked over at him. “Are you?”
“No. I’m fucking terrified.”