Page 30 of Pastel Kisses
Hot, angry tears leak from the corners of my eyes as realization sets in.
I want to reach for my stomach, but I can’t. I need to feel what she saw.
Then, as if the universe wants to confirm the truth, a small, fluttering sensation tickles my stomach. It’s faint, barely there, but unmistakable.
I’m pregnant.
I’m carrying their baby.
A violent mix of emotions coils in my gut—fear, anxiety, happiness, and sheer, unbreakable determination.
It’s enough to push back against the numbing weight of the drugs, enough to make me want to fight—to break free.
But try as I might, I can’t move. Not yet.
Then, I hear it.
A voice.
His voice.
Jaxton.
He’s here.
Relief floods my system, momentarily making me forget everything else. I almost call out for him—almost shout his name.
But then I remember.
He’s not here to rescue me.
He came to see her.
The moment of hope curdles into a pit of dread in my stomach.
Sarah wasn’t lying.
He’s here.
The muffled tones of their voices float down the stairs, every word indecipherable, but the tone? That, I can hear perfectly.
Friendly.
Welcoming.
Familiar.
It guts me, the final slice of the knife twisting deep.
The agony of it burns through my veins, each second a branding iron against my soul.
Why, Jax?
My focus shifts entirely from my unborn baby, from my desperate need to escape. Now, all I can do is listen. Endure.
I don’t know if my psyche can handle it, don’t know if I can come back from whatever I’m about to hear.
But I listen anyway.
