I ask, “What are you doing? I thought you left me!”
He takes my hand, and shakes his head, his eyes determined. “I got halfway down the hill and had to come back. I can’t.”
“You’re going to go back to jail, Tommy! He won’t let you not!”
With a set jaw, he looks at my belly. “It doesn’t matter. How can I start a new life running like a coward?”
Screaming out, I squeeze his hand. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He squeezes back. “I don’t know what I’m doing, so I’ll just ask. How does it feel? Does it feel like he’s coming now?”
I wince, gasping for breath. “I don’t know. Why don’t you look?”
He smirks. “If I want to keep my balls, I’m not going to do that. When Brendan comes in here, I need to be up here by your face.”
“Well, then your guess is as good as mine. Ow! Oh my God. Why does it hurt so bad?!”
Tommy’s frown is deep as he gazes at me, wishing he could do something. His eyes change and he looks to the right. “He’s coming.”
“How can you tell?”
“No. Not the baby. Brendan. Brendan’s here,” Tommy quietly says, his eyes on the cave entrance. “Shit. This is going to be interesting.”
That’s when I hear him, the love of my life calling my name. “ANNIE!! ANNIE, I’M HERE!”
The relief that waves over me is so profound I start to weep. “I’M HERE! BRENDAN, I’M HERE!!”
“ANNIE!” he shouts again and again. I start to laugh as his voice grows closer, completely losing my sanity.
Bringing Tommy’s hand to my forehead, I cry out, “Oh, thank you. Thank you for calling him! Thank you!”
The light changes again as Brendan vaults into the cave, quickly followed by Mark, which is a surprise to me. They both scan the scene quickly. Tommy releases the grip on my hand and jumps up, stepping back to make room. Brendan gives him a scathing glare, and falls to his knees next to me, taking my face in his hands as tears race down both of our faces. “Freckles! I thought I was never going to see you again!”
“Brendan! Brendan! I can’t believe you’re really here! He’s coming! He’s finally coming! And that girl was right, he timed it on purpose!” I’m blabbering and Brendan has no idea what I’m talking about, he’s so beside himself. His hand goes to my stomach and he kisses me repeatedly, both of us gasping.
When he stops, I see Nicole and Rebecca standing behind him. “Nicole!”
“Hey gorgeous, seen better days?” she smiles, grabbing the fallen tote bag and lowering by my feet, hurriedly unzipping it and pulling out supplies.
Rebecca awkwardly looks from Tommy to me.
Laughing with relief, I meet her eyes. “Tell me you have Advil in that fucking clutch purse!”
Rebecca digs through her bag to victoriously produce a trial-size bottle. “Motrin?”
I drop my head on Tommy’s sweater and close my eyes with relief. “Okay, you can stay.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Tommy
My wrists: held behind my back. My shame: bottomless.
I’m staring down at the couple with Mark needlessly holding onto me. I’m dead on the inside. My face like stone. No hope. Only a dim satisfaction somewhere in the recesses of my soul, that I didn’t run. It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got. Rebecca steals another glance and we lock eyes. She’s stunning as usual, and the sight of her with her hair wind blown, out of breath from running in those pumps up a hill, has me wanting to do all sorts of things to her before I get thrown back into an all-men cage for the rest of my life.
But this desire is futile.
My life? It’s over.
She catches Mark’s warning glance and looks away from me, quickly.
The black girl–a stunner with long, long legs who I’ve never seen before–pulls out blankets and fresh clothes for Annie. She glances to Mark, and avoids my eyes. She must be his girlfriend, but this is the first I’ve heard of her. Must have happened after I went in. Or before; it’s not like he’s confided in me in anything for a very long time.
Brendan looks over as the black girl says something. I see her mouth moving, but my heartbeat’s dull thud is louder in my ears, that and the sound of the bars locking. Dinon’s voice. Antonio’s unblinking eyes. Morales. Beady Eyes and the beating he’ll gladly give me when they throw me back into my cell. Next to my father’s cell, maybe.
Now wouldn’t that be ironic?
I lock eyes with