Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) Read online

  “It’s fine.” I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite translate.

  She shrugged. “Well, did you try the movie theater in Lake Jackson? It might be better than Castaway’s.”

  “The theater?”

  “Yeah. My cousin works there and I think they might be hiring. Maybe you could work the projection booth or something. It’d beat dirty dishes, anyway. And I think they have a management program there, so maybe you could apply and move up eventually.”

  I studied her face as her words sunk in. A management program at a movie theater. Not exactly the stellar future I had planned for myself in Robotics or Engineering.

  Could I pull both off with a baby in tow? Who knew?

  But, at this rate, I had to do what I had to do with a pregnant girlfriend. And sixteen-year-old fathers couldn’t afford to be choosy.

  Next to bussing tables, greasy popcorn and movie reels were sounding better and better.

  June 21st

  Another rough day. Hanging out with Roxie and binging on ice cream and chick flicks is just not enough. I miss Reed. We’ve hardly talked since I got home from my grandparents’ a couple days ago. I tried calling, but he didn’t answer his cell. When I called his house, his mom told me he left in a hurry and she didn’t know where he was. It felt like she wanted to say more, but she didn’t. So, I got on my bike and rode out to Surfside. I know my guy like the back of my hand . . . no, scratch that. Who really knows the back of their hand? . . . I know my guy like the lyrics to our song. I’ve got him more than memorized. He is like the other me, my heart’s home away from home.

  Sure enough, I found him, looking as sad as I’ve ever seen him. It suddenly dawned on me. He’s scared shitless, and it’s all my fault. Have I totally ruined his life by getting pregnant? By not considering other options for the baby? By not telling him my horrible truth? Should I?

  I tried to find something to say to him. But how can I reassure him when I’m just as scared and confused as he is?

  But, it got worse. He was crying. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Reed cry and my heart threatened to shatter into a billion razor-sharp pieces.

  I love him so much. I wish I could fix this somehow.

  Is Blood Thicker than Water?

  The movie theater gig wasn’t so bad. I didn’t mind the shift work these last few days, or cleaning up gooey candy and gobs of popcorn. Heck, most of the time I could even stand my dickhead of a boss. What I had a hard time with were the stares. I think maybe the rumor mill was already churning.

  I went to school with a lot of the kids who worked there, even called a few of them friend. It was especially cool that one of my buddies since middle school, Mike, worked there. But I had no idea why almost everyone else was acting so freakin’ weird. Pregnancy wasn’t contagious.

  Maybe it was because I was the new kid. Maybe because I actually showed up on time and did my work—even stayed late a couple nights when Mr. Ross asked me to. Having a pregnant girlfriend makes a guy look at things a little differently.

  But tonight, everyone was just ignoring me. Whatever. Made my job a whole lot easier.

  I waited as the crowd thinned from the latest Disney flick, then grabbed my broom and dustpan and prepared to do battle with the destruction of a couple dozen preschoolers. It was amazing the mess those little monsters could do. And if I thought too hard about it, it blew my mind that in a few years, I’d be one of those dazed, frazzled parents.

  No way.

  I was determined to be a cool dad. Like mine. Or like mine used to be. I was gonna play Legos and army men with my kid. Take him to the beach and teach him to boogie board.

  Or her.

  My stomach dropped. What if it was a girl? Would I even know what to do?

  The cell phone buzzed in my pocket. We weren’t really supposed to take personal calls on the clock, but nobody was looking. I glanced around one more time to make sure I was alone, then answered when I recognized Mel’s number. “Hello?” I whispered.

  “Reed?” She sounded frightened.

  “Mel? What’s wrong, babe?”

  She hitched a breath and my stomach dropped. “Reed . . . can you come over?”

  I looked up at the screen as the credits continued to roll by soundlessly. The words blurred together meaninglessly. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I’m scared . . .” I heard the tears in her voice. “I’m bleeding.”

  Bleeding? What did she mean bleeding? Why didn’t she just go to her parents if she cut herself? Then it dawned on me. “The baby?”

  She sobbed.

  “Mel!” I spouted, my sudden anxiety translating to my voice. “Mel, answer me. How much blood? Did you lose the baby? Are you hurting?”

  “No,” she whispered, obviously holding back more tears.

  “No, what?” I demanded, fear pumping adrenalin through me fast and fierce. But, why? Wouldn’t this give me what I wanted? A way out? The panic in her voice didn’t give me much time to examine my reaction.

  “No, I’m not hurting. I’m not sure about the baby . . . it’s not a lot of blood now, but I’ve been spotting all day.”

  I felt my own blood drain from my face. “All day?” I croaked.

  “Yes.”

  I dropped the broom where I stood. How had she let this go on so long and not at least gone to her mom? Jeez. “I’m on my way, babe. We’re going to the hospital.”

  I hung up without saying goodbye and flew to the lobby. I found Mr. Ross and tried to catch my breath. “I need to go, sir. It’s an emergency.”

  He eyed me up and down skeptically, sucked on his top teeth in no apparent hurry.

  “Sir,” I pulled myself up taller and looked him dead in the eye. “My girlfriend is three months pregnant. She just called me because she’s been bleeding all day and I need to get her to the hospital. She’s scared and she needs me. Sir.”

  He studied me a moment longer as something briefly flitted across his face—sympathy, understanding? Nah. Not Mr. Ross—then he nodded, apparently deciding to trust me. “All right, Young. But don’t make a habit of this, or I’ll can you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I bolted the minute he dismissed me and ran for my car. I sped out of the parking lot and headed for Mel’s, wishing I didn’t stink of movie theater popcorn.

  I pulled up into her driveway and found her waiting for me, tears streaking down her face. She opened the passenger side door and wilted into the seat. We’d been through a lot these last weeks, but this was a new and vulnerable Mel like I’d never seen. A protective instinct reared up in me as I leaned over and pulled her into my arms. “Where’re your parents? Chris?”

  “At some out-of-town retreat thing with Dad’s company. They’ve been gone all day,” she mumbled against my neck, her fingers clutching my shoulders.

  Oh, God, she’d been alone all day. I pulled back and studied her face. “Why didn’t you call them? Or call me sooner?”

  She shrugged. “I thought it’d go away.” She sat back and glanced down at her hands. “I was scared.”

  Ah, Mel. “It’ll be okay,” I said, more to placate her than because I meant it. Hell, what did I know about these things? Didn’t bleeding mean she was miscarrying? Shit.

  I brushed my hand across hers one more time then reversed out of the driveway. We drove to the hospital in silence, Melissa staring out the window at the traffic, much like when we made our first trip to see Dr. Foster. Only this time, her body was rigid with obvious fear, and my body was numb.

  I had no idea what to feel. What I wanted.

  I finally got her to the ER and I took her hand and led her inside, past a woman holding a crying baby, which Mel blatantly ignored. Past a group of men who were absolutely filthy and reeked of alcohol. She pressed against me as we made our way to the check-in desk, I’m sure looking like the two scared kids we were.

  “Can I help you?” the young, blond nurse asked.

  Melissa looked down, saying nothing. I guessed it was
up to me. I stepped forward, hoping for some privacy. “Um, yes,” I glanced around to make sure only the nurse could hear me, “my girlfriend is bleeding.”

  The nurse’s eyebrows crinkled. “Bleeding?”

  Oh, right. “Yes. She’s pregnant. About three months.”

  Understanding dawned. “Right. And how long has she been bleeding?”

  I glanced at Mel, who finally answered. “Since this morning.”

  “Any clots?”

  Mel shook her head.

  “Abdominal pain?”

  “No.”

  They went through a few more questions to figure out how much Mel had been bleeding, how far along she was, and her insurance information. “Do you want us to call your parents, sweetie?” the nurse asked.

  Mel stared at her blankly. “Why?”

  “Well . . .” She smiled as she led us back to a small curtained off area behind the nurses’ station. “It’s up to you. You are a minor, but your pregnancy gives you privacy and treatment rights so you can decide in this situation.”

  “Oh. Okay,” Mel said. “You can call them.”

  The nurse nodded and walked away, glancing at her clipboard.

  Melissa never let go of my hand.

  “Are you scared?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she admitted in a throaty whisper.

  “I know. Me, too.” And I suddenly realized, inexplicably, I really was. Did I care about this baby now?

  She blinked some tears from her eyes and kept her gaze pinned to her lap. “You know what the worst part is?”

  “No. What?”

  She met my gaze, her pain ripping through me like my own. “I’m not really sure if I’m more scared I’m losing the baby or that I’m not.”

  I tilted my head. “What do you mean?”

  Her face crumpled. “It’s horrible and selfish . . .” She choked back a sob. “But . . . I think part of me kind of hoped that I was having a miscarriage so we could just go back to being us. That you wouldn’t have to feel so much pressure.” She studied my eyes for several heartbeats, as if searching for some kind of truth.

  I nodded, unable to speak. How had she ripped the words from my soul?

  “Am I a horrible person?”

  “No, baby, you’re not.” I kissed her brow. “You’re not.” No, underneath all those hormones and tears and anxiety still beat the heart of the girl who held mine.

  “But I didn’t mean it. I’d never want to lose your baby. Not yours. I love you, Reed—”

  We were interrupted when a different nurse came in. “We got hold of your parents, Melissa. They said to tell you they’re on their way home and to please call them right away. I guess your cell phone is off?” She waited a beat while she applied a blood pressure cuff to Mel’s arm. “So, I have a few questions . . .” She moved to a computer terminal on the wall.

  “Did you two have sex recently?” she asked, as if it wasn’t the most personal, embarrassing question ever.

  Mel blushed and glanced at me, then back at the nurse. “Uh, no.”

  No, we hadn’t had sex in like, forever. She barely wanted to touch me since . . . since the night of Noah’s party, I’d guess, if not before that. Pregnancy hormones sucked.

  I was beginning to think pregnancy sucked in general.

  “No fever?” The nurse didn’t seem to care that we were mortified as she moved on and repeated the questions the first one had already asked.

  “No.” Mel shook her head.

  No fever, no clots, no pain . . . same as before. Just spotting since this morning. I wished they’d just get on with it and tell us if the baby was gone.

  “Okay,” the nurse finally said, “let’s see if we can hear a heartbeat.”

  My heart slammed into my throat. She pulled out a small box with a cord and handheld piece attached, pulled up Mel’s shirt, gobbed some goo on her belly, and pressed the wand to her lower stomach.

  There was a loud static . . . more static. She moved it around and searched. And searched.

  But nothing.

  Tears dripped from Mel’s eyes onto the pillowcase as she gripped my hand painfully.

  No. No. No. No.

  The nurse pulled the wand back and gently wiped the gel from Melissa’s belly. “It’s still early,” she said with kind, smiling eyes. “Let me go get the doctor.”

  Melissa was crying in earnest by the time the doctor came in, and I was doing my best to hold her—and myself—together.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’m Dr. Patel.” He sat on the stool in front of us and we basically went over the same stuff for a third time. But at least he was kind about it.

  Melissa looked sort of resigned to it all now and stared blankly at him, answering him by rote.

  “Well,” he said at last, “since the nurse had a hard time finding the baby’s heart tones by Doppler, I’m going to do a quick bedside ultrasound so we can take a look, okay?”

  We nodded.

  I didn’t hold out much hope, but I guessed that was just what they had to do.

  He smiled when he wheeled the big machine in and we went through the whole pull back the shirt, goo, wand on the belly thing again.

  Mel wouldn’t even look.

  But I did. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  Dr. Patel grinned at me. It took a moment, then I could see it. The peanut had little arms and legs now.

  I swallowed.

  It also had a heartbeat.

  July 1st

  Scary day. I didn’t feel up to going out, so I was home alone while my parents and Chris went to some stupid work retreat of my dad’s, and I started bleeding. Like a lot.

  I freaked out and found myself praying in the bathroom as I cleaned myself up. But what I was praying for, I wasn’t really sure. Do I want this baby? Even if it’s HIS? Was I praying for a miscarriage? For God to save this baby? For it to be Reed’s? God, I feel so guilty still . . . I’ve been so adamant about keeping it, not doing the adoption thing. But for the first time, I saw the light that used to be the old me. I also got my first glimpse of what both of my mothers must have felt. My birth mom, wanting something better for me. My adoptive mom just wanting a child she thought she couldn’t have. Maybe I’ve been too angry for too long for all the wrong reasons.

  Maybe I am loved after all.

  But, unfortunately, I scared the crap out of Reed. He was awesome, tried to reassure me on the way to the hospital, though I could tell he wasn’t sure. I mean, what was there to say? “So, you hoping for a miscarriage, or not?” God, if he had any idea whose baby this might be, the answer would be obvious.

  Reed asked me if I was scared. Uh, that was an understatement. He said he was too, so I broke down and told him the truth. Well, the part about not being sure if I wanted to lose the baby or not. I just couldn’t rip the entire truth from my heart and I feel like a horrible person. I will tell him. Soon.

  I feel like a traitor to my own baby. I want it to be alive. Yet, I don’t.

  But it is

  Fireworks and Waterworks

  Fourth of July snuck up on us. Guess we were still sucked into the drama of our bleeding scare. But, Melissa and I went to the beach that night like we usually did, and curled up on a blanket with our favorite junky snacks and the pounding of the surf behind us, grasping at any sense of normalcy we could. Only this year, we had another, smaller, invisible guest between us, making it impossible.

  Mel flopped back with a Twizzler in her mouth. “You think I’m getting bigger yet?” She put her hand to her stomach.

  I glanced down. She still looked skinny to me. “No.”

  “Hmm . . . my jeans are getting tighter.” She twisted to her side and propped her head on her elbow and stared at me. “Are you still gonna love me when I’m big and fat?”

  I started to laugh, but swallowed it when her liquidy brown eyes told me she was serious. Chicks and their weight. I sighed and leaned down next to her, brushing my hand along her cheek. “Mel, you’re not going to get fat. But,
even if you did, I’d love you no matter what.”

  She blinked as tears filled her eyes. “You promise?”

  I kissed her lips and tasted the strawberry licorice. “Yes. I swear.” I put my hand to her still flat belly. “But I really don’t think Peanut here is going to make you fat.”

  “Peanut?”

  Busted. I shifted and glanced away. “Yeah . . .”

  “The baby is not a peanut,” she said indignantly.

  “Well, it did sorta look like one on that first ultrasound, you gotta admit,” I said.

  Her mouth hung open.

  “Besides,” I added, “peanuts are kinda cute. Right?”

  She shook her head and grabbed another Twizzler. “Peanut,” she mumbled under her breath, seeming to think about it. “Hmmm. Well, I hope Peanut has your pretty wavy hair.” She faced me, her eyes serious. “And your dimple.”

  I shot her a look. I knew she’d always hated that her hair was so straight. I’d never given much thought to my dimple. “Really?”

  She nodded and rested her hand over mine on her belly.

  I laid back and gazed up at the stars. At least there still was a peanut. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Mel seemed happy about it again. The doctor told us the bleeding was okay as long as it didn’t get heavy again and she needed to take it easy until she followed up with her doctor next week.

  Mel shifted next to me just as the first pop of fireworks exploded above our heads. Beyond our feet, the excited tittering of the other people gathered on the beach carried to us. To our right, Lettie’s cross glowed in the moonlight as the occasional red and blue sparkle from the sky glittered around us.

  She glanced over at me, the fire in the sky dancing on her skin. “You think we can love this baby enough?” She blinked and looked away for a moment, guilt washing over her features. “You think I can love this baby enough?”

  Confusion tied my tongue. How had she just ripped the thoughts from my heart? Wasn’t she supposed to be the one doing the loving for the both of us until I figured this damn thing out? Wasn’t all of this her idea? Where was this coming from?