Breaking Her (Savage Brothers Second Generation 4)

I feel arms pick me up and it’s only then that I realize I’m squeezing my eyes shut. Now, I’m starting to panic. I look up to see Thomas is the one carrying me.

“The baby,” I whisper.

“Is fine,” he says. “Grunt, get her father, tell him we’ll b-b-b-be at the hospital in W-w-wise,” he adds.

I see Thomas’s father come around us, heading toward a large, black SUV. Then, I close my eyes again and I pray my stupidity didn’t hurt my baby.

Chapter 6

Thomas

“You gave us all a fright, Miss Ford,” the doctor says as he walks in, holding her chart. She looks up at him, worry etched on her face. Lyla doesn’t deserve the look of fear that I see on her. She’s the sweetest, most genuine person I’ve ever met. I hate that I’ve fucked up her life, but that seems to be my specialty. It’s become clear that if it wasn’t for me, Dom and Gabby would have been together. I just wish I had realized that before I had ruined Lyla’s life.

I hate Gabby for how she played me. Most of all, I hate that I’m sitting in a hospital room with Lyla, waiting to hear what’s going on with our child, and my mind is full of Gabby and her betrayal.

“Is my baby okay?” she asks, and her voice sounds frail. Lyla is not a frail person. She never has been.

“Butterfly!” Lyla’s dad yells, coming in frantically.

He goes to Lyla’s bedside—a place where I almost sat and then felt weird. I ended up sitting in the corner.

“Are—are you the baby’s father?” the doctor asks Ford, confusion in his voice.

I stand up, annoyed at the question.

“I-I’m the father.”

“While you’re alive,” Ford snaps. “I’m Lyla’s father. How is she?” he asks, dismissing me.

“How’s my baby?” Lyla asks and I suppose, given the circumstances, it shouldn’t bother me—but it does. The two of them want to pretend I’m not part of anything to do with this child and yet, that’s my baby inside of Lyla. Everything is a mess, and I fucked up, but it’s my child, too. I don’t think I realized that I wanted a chance to be a father until Lyla began having pain.

“The baby appears to be fine,” the doctor responds, reassuringly.

“Wh-what do you mean appears?” I ask, not satisfied.

“I don’t believe he was talking to you,” Ford snaps. “What do you mean appears?” the bastard repeats.

“All of the tests we ran, including testing the hormone levels in your system, tells us that all is well.”

“Then why am I cramping?” she asks, her voice frightened. I find myself walking toward her, standing on the opposite side of her father. I want to comfort her, even though I know she doesn’t want me anywhere around her.

“My best guess would be that you’ve overdone it today or have had a lot of stress. It could be just the baby growing and taking up more space in there. In any case, I don’t think it’s anything to become alarmed about. We will keep you overnight for observation, but that’s just as a precaution.”

“Okay,” she murmurs.

“In the meantime, would you like to see your baby? Normally we don’t do this when all the tests come back normal, but I think it will make you feel better just to see the little guy or girl.”

“Is that possible?” Lyla asks, and my heart fumbles in my chest because I want to see the baby. My baby.

“Definitely. If you gentlemen would just step outside—”

“He-he can leave. I’m n-n-not going anywhere,” I stutter and Jesus, I’ve never been more upset with my speech impediment than I am right now. I don’t want to appear weak around Lyla’s dad. I know he thinks I’m not good enough for his daughter—hell, I think that. I don’t want him to look at me like I’m not able to take care of her, though. All of those names I heard through school come hurling back at me every single time someone looks at me like I’m less than any other person. Stuttering Tom, Dumb Thomas, stupid, retard… The list could go on for miles and I know as much as I pretended they didn’t bother me, they scarred pieces of me that I will never be able to heal.

“I’m not leaving Lyla alone with you,” Ford growls.

“You’ll look fun-n-n-ny li-li-living with us when Lyla moves in w-w-with m-m-me.”

“My daughter isn’t doing shit with you. You were lucky she gave you the time of day. She could have her pick of men. The last thing she needs is to saddle herself up with a—”

“Daddy!” Lyla cries and Ford jerks around to look at her. “Don’t you say it,” she snaps.

“L-let him say wha-t he wants,” I respond, not blinking when I look at the son of a bitch. I’m ready for him. Anything he says, I’m sure I’ve heard before. Ford doesn’t say anything, but he keeps staring at me. The tension is heavy in the air, and neither one of us is willing to back down.