Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 75(@200wpm)___ 60(@250wpm)___ 50(@300wpm)
And it wasn’t until he was gone that I finally released all of my pent-up anguish, crying harder than I’d done yet.
I’d given up everything for Damien.
And now, I had nothing.
Miles brushed my hair back from my face as he knelt in front of me. I was laying on the couch, the kitchen trash can in front of me. I’d been getting sick off and on all morning, and nausea was kicking my ass.
“I think you need to take these,” Miles softly told me, pressing a box into my hand.
I looked down, tears welling in my eyes at the pregnancy tests in my hand. I shook my head, but Miles closed his hand over mine, his eyes boring into mine. “Please, Hayley,” he pleaded. “If you’re not pregnant, I’ll take you to the doctor. But if you are, we need to take the steps to make sure you’re taken care of.”
Sniffling, I sat up and stood from the couch, moving past him to the hallway bathroom. I stared down at the test after I took it, waiting for it to tell me if I was pregnant or not.
It didn’t take long.
Pregnant flashed up at me with a large smiley face.
I swung open the bathroom door, my eyes wide and panicked. Miles was standing across from the bathroom door, his back to the wall. “Miles—” I croaked.
Sadness lingered in his eyes for me. He gathered me in his arms. “I’m here, Hayley,” he soothed. I began to feel numb as he ran his hand over my hair, his arms tightening around me. “I’m here. It’s going to be okay.”
I didn’t cry. I had no tears left to shed.
I was carrying Damien’s baby, and I wasn’t sure anymore if he wanted me still.
12
Everything from that day was downhill.
First, I was underweight. And then, I couldn’t gain weight because I was sick all the time.
To top it all off, depression was slowly killing me.
I could barely sleep anymore. I envied the people who slept all the time to escape the shit in their heads. I wanted to so badly, and I couldn’t.
Quinn placed a grilled cheese in front of me. I’d been craving it today, and he wanted to see if I could hold it down since it was something I wanted.
I wasn’t sure if I would be able to. My stomach was rumbling, but this morning sickness shit was a pain in my ass.
“Just try,” he coaxed.
Sighing, I bit into the grilled cheese, sighing when I didn’t feel like vomiting everywhere. Though I wanted to scarf it down, I took my time, not wanting to upset my stomach. Miles stepped into the house wearing a pair of black jeans, a black hoodie, and his black boots.
“Finally able to hold it down?” he asked me.
“Seems so,” Quinn told him since my mouth was full. “Keep your fingers crossed, though.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
After I finished, I went to lie down. Now that my stomach was full, I was hoping I could get some sleep. Miles leaned against the door frame, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his ankles crossed as he watched me slide beneath the covers. “You okay?”
I sighed, closing my eyes. “I’m never okay anymore, Miles.” And that was the truth. I’d never lied to him. My days were never good anymore.
I just somehow fucking made it through them.
He kicked his boots off and moved into bed behind me, laying above the blankets. He wrapped his arms around me. “Try to get some sleep, yeah?”
My lips trembled. God, this shit hurt so bad some days, and other days, I was so numb to it all. “He hasn’t reached out, Miles.”
Miles brushed his lips to the back of my head. “This is the way Damien works, sweet girl. Try not to focus on it too much, yeah?”
Every letter I sent went unanswered. Every phone call I made, he declined. I knew he spoke to Miles. But he wouldn’t talk to me.
He’d never given a damn in the first place. I was a conquest, and he won. That was all it was.
And now, I was pregnant and alone.
I moaned in discomfort, slowly coming awake. My belly was cramping, and something wet was between my thighs. Miles woke up from behind me.
I pushed the covers back to go to the bathroom, and a sound between a scream and a cry left my lips at the blood between my legs and on the bed.
“Miles,” I croaked, my hands shaking. I desperately searched for him, my heart twisting in my chest.
This wasn’t happening.
“Come on,” he coaxed, leading me to the bathroom, not even flinching at the sight of the blood. “Get a pad. Change your clothes. I need to get you to the hospital.”
He left the bathroom, leaving me alone. I stared at my pale face in the mirror.