“She’s one hell of a tough girl. Have you ever seen anyone this strong after such a traumatic ordeal?” Wren asks as he props up on the wall beside me in the waiting room.
“No, but then again, I’ve never met anyone like her.”
Bity walks in, his anxiety in place as his girl takes the seat beside him.
“Is Ash okay?” I ask, swallowing hard.
“Sorry, she’s fine. Her parents had to scold me for not telling them she was pregnant.”
“I explained he didn’t know until she was about to go into labor. I didn’t tell them she was just shy of eight months along when she had him," Shannon says.
“What was it like? The birth I mean. Was it hard on her?” I ask while sitting down.
“If it was, she’d never admit it. Ash doesn’t do emotion very well, as I’m sure you’ve learned,” Bity sighs.
My mind flashes back to the night she fell apart on me, the night I found out Trip was my son. Then I think back to the day at the restaurant. She's shown her vulnerability with me. I've done nothing but handle it poorly each and every time.
“She got the epidural, and then she had him without any problems. When he was born, she told the doctors he looked just like his daddy. That was the only time she teared up. The rest of the time, she was a rock,” Shannon elaborates.
“I wish I had come.”
“She wanted you there, but she didn’t know how to ask you. I think she was worried she’d give it away—call him your son in front of you. She said she knew you’d feel obligated to her, and she didn’t want that.”
“I do want that. I want to be a part of my son’s life. I want to be a part of her life.”
Shannon’s eyes widen, and I tighten my lips.
“What?” I prompt.
“It’s just… she thinks you hate her, and I have to be honest, you’re one mixed-signaled mother-fucker.”
I’d laugh at her crudeness if the contents weren’t so tragically true. I do send her mixed signals, but I’ve never done this before.
“I know. I was going to talk to her when she sobered up, but then Camille-”
“Let’s not discuss that whore,” Shannon grumbles under her breath.
“I didn’t do anything with her.”
“I’m not the one you’ve got to convince. As of right now, Ash is planning on moving out.”
“She can’t take my son away,” I choke out.
“She’s not going to. After what happened, she said Trip would be safer with you, and she’s taking herself out of the equation. She’s worried what will happen if this bastard gets that close again. Let’s face it, the odds of her surviving another shot or stabbing aren’t good.”
“He’s after him, too,” I counter with a painful sting.
“She thinks he’s only after Trip because she loves him, so she’s going to walk away—try to draw this guy out. She’s already called the detective working the case. He doesn’t like it. He said she should stay with you and let him do his job.”
“What did she say?”
“She said if he was good at his job, she wouldn’t have been shot and stabbed.”
Again, I would laugh if the tragic contents weren’t so true.
“She’s too damn tough and stubborn for her own good, apparently,” Wren grumbles. “If this guy hadn’t been so cocky, she would have died the other night.”
“He wants attention. Whoever he is, he wants to scare the hell out of everyone,” Bity gripes. “He’s sure as hell got my attention.”