Page 66 of Broken Halo
Her eyes glisten and she whispers, “The CPS stuff. The drug charges.” A tear escapes and she shakes her head. “I don’t know why it’s happening, but I can’t lose Griffin, Trig. I can’t. I already lost our baby. I won’t survive that again.”
My eyes close and I tip my forehead to hers. Her chest is moving against me, her heart strumming against my body. I drag my hand around to her jaw and bring her mouth to mine. Tasting her tears again, knowing what they’re for, is too much. My lips move on hers but I don’t slip her my tongue or move for more. I need to connect with her—I’m the only person on earth who shares her pain and I know for a fact it’s excruciating.
When I let her go, our lips are still touching when I lay a promise there that I’ll never break. “No one will take your son from you. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll lay down my life before I let that happen.”
She nods. “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m a mess. I’m drunker than I thought.”
“Go to sleep.” I tuck her face into my neck and press her into the back of the sofa tighter, her body pinned by mine. I run my hand over her hip, drawing circles there with my fingers.
Just when I think there’s no way she can still be awake, she shifts. “Trig?
I put my lips to her temple. “Hmm?”
She yawns. “There’s something else you should know.”
“Yeah?” I move and let her get comfortable before pressing into her again. “What’s that, my little drunk?”
“I’m not on birth control,” she admits on a yawn. My eyes fly open and all I see is the sofa cushion over her blond hair. “Figures, right? It’s us.”
I bring my hand up and dip it into her hair, pressing my lips to her forehead. I know she’s drunk but she sounds resigned, not upset, so I figure that’s not terrible for me. “Go to sleep, angel. We’ll talk about it tomorrow when we talk about everything else.”
“Now you have to keep me out of prison,” she starts babbling nonsense at the same time she wiggles a leg out and pulls it up and over my hip. “I can’t have a prison baby.”
I try to keep the smile out of my voice but it’s hard. “If I can promise you anything, it’s that you’re not going to prison for a misdemeanor. I plan to get you off on all charges. The rest we’ll deal with when or if it happens.”
She nods and this time I feel her body give up the fight for good.
“So hot,” she mutters.
I can’t keep the smile out of my voice. “See? Nothing’s changed. You always thought I was hot.”
She groans. “You know what I mean.”
“You’ll be fine,” I assure her and it’s the last words we exchange.
And she will. She’s lived through enough, even what I fucking put her through. I’ll do everything I can to make sure nothing else brings Ellie Montgomery low.
The unprotected sex is another thing, but when it comes right down to it, I don’t give a shit. It’s something that would’ve happened eventually. Sooner or later, it doesn’t matter—I’m good with it.
* * *
Ellie
“Ah-hem.”
I shift, feeling the rock-hard chest under me groan and a hand on my ass tighten.
“Ball.”
My eyes fly open and last night comes rushing into my head like a rerun, playing back in my brain, word-for-word, like my favorite Friends episode I’ve seen a million times where Monica and Rachel lose the game show and have to give up their apartment to Chandler and Joey. The unorganic vodka, the fajitas, Eli stabbing me in the back and giving Trig access to Casa de Jen … me telling Trig that our unprotected sex was really unprotected … all of it.
And lastly, that when Trig squished me into the sofa, I didn’t knee him in the nuts and push him off onto Jen’s thick area rug.
Trig is now on his back, taking up way more than his fair share of the small space we slept on, and I’m sprawled on top of him. My head is pounding, and when I turn to look, the first thing I see is Trig’s T-shirt pulled up just enough, a smattering of hair disappears into the band of his boxers where his wrinkled dress pants are unbuttoned and unzipped.
“When I booked an early morning meeting with my lead attorney and a possible new vendor across town, I had no idea I’d have to be his wake-up call, too.” Jen is standing over us holding Griffin, who’s still in his jammies.
I smile at my son even though it hurts behind my eyes. “Good morning, baby.”
