God in heaven. He couldn't breathe very well.
"You think that'll work?" he asked.
Willow shrugged. "If I'm already pregnant, no, it won't work. But it might stop my egg from dropping so I won't become fertile until after your semen dies."
He just stared at her, so sick over the idea of possibly getting her pregnant he couldn't comment.
She took in the look on his face and scowled. "Oh, calm down, Malloy." She turned to a calendar on the wall. "Don't worry so much. My most fertile time isn't for another..."
She put her finger on the calendar and counted out the days.
Raith came up beside her. When her finger paused on the next day, her face turned a pale white.
"Another couple hours," she admitted weakly and looked up at him like a frightened child seeking help.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
Willow mutely shook her head. Her eyes were large and her face completely void of color. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out.
Suddenly, a multitude of images zipped through his head like a slideshow playing in fast forward. He could see himself easing onto a couch next to her and lifting the bottom of her shirt so he could try to span the swollen expanse with his palm. Then he saw her pale and sweating in a brightly lit hospital room, cursing him as she gritted and strained through a contraction. And then there was a baby and he was holding it, looking down in awe at the new life he'd helped to create. He could see the baby take her first steps, say her first word. And then he could see himself squeezing Willow's hand as they sat together in a hot auditorium, watching their child graduate high school.
In a microsecond, all those visions flashed through him. And the hell of it was, they felt kind of nice. Damned good, actually. There was a contented peacefulness to that life.
But then he blinked and reality slammed through him. God. What was he thinking? He'd make an awful father. And what about Willow? He'd tried marriage before and sucked at that too. No way could he be the kind of husband she deserved.
"What do we do?" she whispered, looking completely horrified.
Raith snapped, "Get the damn pill. Now."
Willow swallowed. "I... I... Don't I need a prescription to buy it?"
He sputtered, "How the hell should I know?"
Her eyes were wide and frightened as she stared at him. He wanted to pull her into a tight hug and comfort both of them. Yet he also wanted to turn tail and run for the hills.
Suddenly her eyes widened. She looked down. "I need to clean this stuff off." Spinning from him, she hurried into the bathroom. He stood there a moment after the door closed behind her, wishing there was something he could do. Thinking he'd probably repulse her if she came out and found him still undressed and was reminded of what had just happened, he quickly pulled his clothes on. His stomach turned queasier by the second and he tried to swallow down the nausea, but it rose up his throat with each gulp.
She'd looked so appalled by the idea of carrying his baby. He wasn't ready for a kid either, but it stung a little to know she obviously hadn't experienced the same split-second vision he had.
Don't think about it, he commanded himself. As soon as she was out of the shower, they'd calmly talk this through. Everything would be okay.
But the moment she opened the door and saw him sitting there, fully clothed and keys in hand, she paused in drying her hair to narrow her eyes.
~ * ~
When Willow opened the bathroom door, wearing nothing but a robe and squeezing water out of her hair with a towel, Raith jerked his head up. He had dressed and was sitting on her bed, resting his elbows on his knees, as if he was deep in thought. But his knee kept jiggling as if he couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. The ass even had his shoes on.
Willow stopped dead in the doorway, unable to take her eyes off the keys in his hand.
"What? Leaving so soon?" Her bitter tone went far to hide the pain rattling around in her chest. How could he leave at a time like this?
His eyes flashed as he pushed to his feet. "Well, I'm certainly not in the mood to go another round."
Willow's back went stiff and her shoulders straightened. In her
coolest voice, she answered, "Have a nice night then."
He seethed for a moment, his jaw hard and his eyes flashing. Then he spun away from her and charged toward the exit, muttering expletives under his breath. But he only made it to the doorway before he halted. Running his hands through his hair, he whirled back.
"Just let me know one way or the other, okay?"
Instead of plopping down and bawling as she wanted to, Willow scoffed. "What? You want to play daddy if there's a kid?"
His teeth set. "I suppose you think I'd just ignore the fact I had a child out there if something happened."
She lifted her nose snootily. "I really don't know what you'd do. I haven't exactly seen you caring for a lot of babies in the past few—"
"Just stop. Don't be a smart ass for once in your life."
"Fine," Willow snapped, blinking back the tears that were going to come anyway. "I'll let you know." She folded her arms over her chest, feeling miserable and bitter and pissed he was still standing there watching her have a mini breakdown. He would probably just laugh at her if she let him see her cry.
He sighed. "Look." His voice was calm as if he was trying to restore some order to the crazy situation. "This has never happened to me before. I don't know what to think. I just... Hell, we didn't even like each other before we started fooling around. And sex isn't a real good basis on which to raise a child."
"You think I don't know that?" Willow snapped. "A baby should have—" She stopped suddenly and shook her head. "Why are we even talking about this? We don't even know if I'm pregnant or not."
"From the little schedule you've got going on," he motioned toward her wall calendar, "it sounds like we're already guaranteed you are."
She threw him a dirty look. "Schedule?" she repeated his odd terminology. "God, Malloy. You make it sound like I planned this to happen."
He snorted. "I wouldn't put it past you."
Willow's mouth fell open. "Excuse me? What the hell does that mean?"
He lifted his eyes but just as quickly looked away. "It means... Jesus, I don't know. Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'never trust something that bleeds for seven days and doesn't die?' How am I supposed to trust anything you say?"
Unable to believe he'd just said such a thing aloud, she could only gape as he continued, "Maybe you wanted more... more from us." He shrugged. "I've never taken you out anywhere. Never... done anything to, you know, move this relationship past the bedroom."
Willow's hands balled into fists. She couldn't remember ever being this angry before. A white hot steam boiled in her stomach. For once in her life, she thought she might actually be capable of murder. "If I was really concerned about you taking me out on a freaking date I would've said, 'Hey, dumb-ass, take me to dinner.' I certainly wouldn't have planned to trap you like this because I'm in no way ready to be a parent myself. What in God's name would I do with a kid?" She glared at Raith.
"I..." At a loss for words, he just stared at her.
Still boiling mad, she continued to rail. "And relationship?" she sneered the word. "What relationship? This is just sex. We're not boyfriend and girlfriend. Lord, we're not even friends."
His cold blue gaze drilled into hers as he softly answered, "No, we're not, are we?"
Though he gave no reason for her to believe so, she felt as if she'd struck a nerve, as if she'd actually hurt his feelings, which hadn't been her intent at all. She had merely been lashing out as a form of self-defense, taking a shot at him before he could take another at her.
She looked away. "Would you please just go?" Her teeth gnashed together and she hoped he hadn't heard the slight crack in her voice.
Because she couldn't look at him, she had no idea what kind of expression filled his features. And he didn't speak. All she could h
ear were his footsteps as he walked out the door.
Willow collapsed on the edge of her bed and wrapped her arms around her waist. Oh, God. Was there a baby in there? She'd never imagined herself as a mother. Could she be a good mother? She didn't think she could handle messing up some poor kid's life.
Why had Malloy left her to deal with this by herself?
Hair still wet, body wrapped in her fuzzy green robe, Willow lay down on the mattress and stared at the wall, wondering how she'd let this all happen. Malloy had struck like a tornado, suddenly exploding into her life, twisting everything around and then boom, he was gone, and her world was a mess.
She closed her eyes as if that could block the vision of him in her head. But she could still smell him on her pillow. Growling out a sound of anger, she sat up and ripped the case off the cushion. No way in hell was she going to sleep here all night with his scent torturing her. As she stripped the entire bed, ripping with a savage fury, and put on fresh sheets, she cursed Deputy Raith Malloy's existence.
It didn't matter that she'd ordered him to leave, she hadn't wanted him to go anywhere. She'd wanted him to stay, to come back, apologize for being such a jerk, and tell her it was going to be okay no matter what happened. Why hadn't he freaking come back? She needed him here. She needed him to hold her hand through the scariest night of her life.
Bursting into tears, she finally wept.
God, why didn't the moron feel for her what she felt for him? ~ * ~
Raith was half way home before he remembered the phone call. Cursing under his breath, he dug out his cell phone and called the station. Dispatch picked up on the second ring.
"Who's working the road tonight?" he wanted to know. When the woman on the line gave him a list of names, he thought a second before saying, "Thanks," and hanging up.
He dialed Carl Hinton's cell phone as soon as he disconnected. The young deputy answered in two rings. "Hey, Hinton, this is Malloy. I need you to check out a place for me every once in a while tonight."
"Sure thing, Lieutenant. What's the address?"
Raith rattled off Willow's address. "It's Willow DeVane's place."
"The sexy lawyer with the legs that won't stop?" Hinton asked, suddenly interested.
Raith gritted his teeth, not wanting to picture her legs at the moment and not wanting one of his deputy pals to either.
"I wasn't aware you guys knew each other," Hinton murmured, obviously fishing for some news.
"She's been getting some phone calls lately," Raith continued, not providing the deputy with what he really wanted to hear. "It's nothing big, but I'd still like someone to drive past her house every hour or so, make sure things look okay."
"Yeah, no problem. I can do that."
"Thanks a lot." He hung up and ground his teeth as he tossed his phone into the passenger seat.
This was all DeVane's fault. If the blasted woman hadn't shoved him out the door, he wouldn't have had to call in reinforcements. He'd still be there, curled around her and finding his own comfort in her arms, soothing all this fear coursing through his veins.
Had he knocked her up or not?
He didn't know, but he didn't like the hope rolling around inside him, because he wasn't sure if that hope was rooting for her to be pregnant or not.
Eighteen
A week and a half later, Willow found herself knocking on the front door of her very best friend in the world. When Camille opened the entrance, Willow pulled the box from her shopping bag and held up the First Response Early Result Pregnancy Test. "Will you hold my hand while I get the news?"
Camille's mouth fell open. "Oh, Willow, no." She snagged Willow's wrist and tugged her inside and straight into a comforting hug.
Willow shuddered out a sigh and closed her eyes as she rested her face on her cousin's shoulder. When the baby in Camille's belly kicked at the pressure against it, Willow quickly jumped back, wondering if there was going to something rooting around inside her like that in a few months. She lifted wide eyes.
"I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life," she confessed.
"Camy, who's at the—" Dylan appeared in the foyer and paused to smile at Willow when he saw her. "Hey, cuz. What—" He cut himself off again when he saw the look on both women's faces. Immediately alert, he straightened. "What's going on?"
"It's nothing—" His wife started to answer, but Willow spoke over her.
"I think I'm pregnant."
Dylan paused, looking momentarily blank. "Preg—Oh, God. Who... Malloy?"
Willow frowned. "Yes. Malloy. I'm not that promiscuous. God."
His mouth opened but he quickly shut it. "I wasn't saying that," he defended. "I didn't mean to—"
"This is one of those early warning things," Camille interrupted her husband, before he could talk himself into any more trouble. She snatched the box out of Willow's hand and studied it. "You must know exactly what day you think you conceived." Her face lifted as that realization struck her. "Good Lord, Willow. You didn't forget protection, did you?"
Willow scowled. "No!" she said defensively. "Of course not." Then her shoulders slumped as she mumbled, "The condom broke," under her breath, hoping she didn't have to confess she'd bought Malloy outdated protection.
"The..." Camille trilled out a startled laugh. "Goodness. Your Malloy must have some powerful—"
"Camy!" her husband cried, utterly scandalized. He snagged the pregnancy test from her hand and treated her to a sour look, as if silently commanding her not to praise his enemy's libido. Then he lowered his gaze to the box before lifting a censorious scowl to Willow. "How long ago did this happen?"
Embarrassed about the answer, she glanced guiltily away. "Eight days."
"Eight days?" Camille scolded. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You've been living with this for eight days?"
"Are you sure you'll be able to tell so soon?" Dylan asked, turning the package over to scan the back.
Willow nodded. "It says you can get an accurate response four days before your period. I'm at three days now."
"Well, then, let's get started," Camille answered, ripping the test from her husband's hand and taking charge of the situation.
Suddenly glad she'd come here for support, Willow grinned as she watched the woman who was eight and a half months pregnant open the pregnancy test and pull out the instructions. After scowling down at them a moment, she extracted the actual test stick.
"Okay," she said and blew out a nervous breath. "Go pee on this."
She shoved it at Willow, and Willow almost dropped it. Before turning in the direction of the bathroom, she glanced meaningfully at the Taggarts. Dylan had taken hold of Camille's hand and Camy was lifting her free fingers to show she had them crossed.
"Good luck."
Willow nodded and turned away. Good luck. Right. But what kind of luck was her friend wishing on her: that the test would come out positive or negative?
As she shut herself inside the bathroom, she realized she wasn't sure which result she wanted either. She'd had a dream about having Raith Malloy's baby the same night the condom had broken, and it hadn't been a nightmare. It had been lovely, in fact. He'd been so attentive and seemed to adore the child.
When she woke up, she'd gone directly to a pharmacy to look into Plan B. As soon as she realized she didn't need a prescription to buy it, however, the damn dream danced through her head. She'd found herself setting her hand on her flat abdomen and wondering... what if.
She'd left the store without purchasing anything.
But now, as she hovered over the toilet, trying to aim, she wondered what the heck she'd been trying to accomplish by refusing to buy the emergency contraceptive. She didn't really want a baby. She didn't want to give an arrogant, conceited jerk a child. And yet, despite all that, she didn't regret the decision she made.
When she finally departed from the bathroom, she jumped when she found both Camille and Dylan loitering outside the door as soon as she opened it.
"Ar
e you sure you peed on the tip. On this end?" Camille asked, fidgeting.
Willow pulled the test stick away from her cousin before Camille could touch it. "I'm sure." She glanced down at it, but quickly looked up before she could look at the results.
"Well, what's it say?" Dylan demanded.
Treating him to a dirty look, Willow muttered, "It says you have to wait three minutes."
"Two pink lines means you're pregnant," Camille added. "One pink line means, 'Thank the Lord.'"