Fugitive: A Bad Boy Romance (Northbridge Nights Book 2) Read online

  We were going to have a baby.

  Every once in a while Trisha would scratch her dry elbows, agitation written all over her face. Gentle breezes flirted with the edges of her dirty, dyed blond hair. The fake, streaky highlights made her look cheap.

  I wrapped my arms around her waist protectively. “No. No, Trish. This is our baby. We're not going to kill our child,” I said, stroking her hair the way she liked. “I want to keep it.” We had to keep it. I didn’t want this on my conscience. It was heavy enough as it was.

  Trisha’s legs dangled freely over the edge, her heels knocking against the building’s brick exterior. We were twenty stories up and it was very windy. It looked like it was about to rain. Halloween was just around the corner. Every Halloween, Trish got a little wilder. Inched a little closer towards sociopathy.

  Today was no exception.

  Every word that escaped her lips was gloom and doom. Pessimistic and narrow-minded. Selfish thoughts from a selfish woman.

  Trisha had caused nothing but trouble these past three weeks. Maybe it was all the pregnancy hormones, but she was fucking bipolar, I swear to God. One minute, she’d be sobbing hysterically, the next, she’d be thumping my back and screaming at me. After venting, sometimes for almost an hour, she’d calm down and withdraw into her inner darkness…curl against a corner of the room and hyperventilate. It was impossible to deal with her, and she refused to see her shrink. No one could help her. No one. I was no fucking hero. I didn’t ask for this kind of responsibility.

  Now she was carrying my fucking kid.

  The devil laughed in my ear. Just push her off. Say it was an accident and be rid of her forever. No one will miss her. No one will even care if she dies. I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. Trisha was pregnant. With my kid. What the hell was I thinking? I wasn’t that desperate. Maybe we could still make this work. We had to make this work, for the baby’s sake.

  Trish began hiccuping. Her entire body lurched forward and she gagged a little. “But you—We—I thought we agreed not to have any kids,” Trisha mumbled, tears already streaking down her face. “We’re not ready. We’re too young.”

  “That was before,” I said, placing a palm on Trisha's belly. “This is now.”

  Trish turned to face me. “Are you mad, Ki?”

  “A little. But I'm more happy than mad.” I smiled and squeezed Trisha's hands. Wind teased her hair into knots now. She brushed it from her face and chewed on her lower lip. “You're going to be a great mom,” I continued. “Don't worry about a thing. Just take care of yourself. Your health. That’s all I want.”

  “Kieran, I'm so sorry I fucked up.” Tears chased one another down Trisha's cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I’m so stupid. Stupid me, stupid Trish. Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

  I hugged Trish tighter, pressing myself against her backside. “You have nothing to be sorry about, baby. We're in a committed relationship. We love each other. Everything will be fine,” I lied. Truth was, I wasn’t sure if still loved her. The definition of love had long since been erased from my dictionary. All I felt was overwhelming responsibility crushing me between my shoulder blades. A terrible burden I pretended was a blessing.

  I didn’t ask for this. It was her fault. All her fault. She forgot to take her goddamn birth control pills.

  Trisha dragged in a sharp breath, bringing her fist to her sternum and slamming down on her chest over and over. “But—But I've been drinking so much and—I fucked up…I-I can’t—”

  “Now's the time to quit,” I said. “Did you fill out the forms for—”

  “I don't think I can do this, Ki. I just...I'm not strong enough to raise a kid.” Trish leaned forward, looking down at the streets below. All the vehicles and pedestrians looked like dots and dashes chasing empty dreams and stolen moments.

  My head spun. “You have me. You have a Kieran. We'll be strong together,” I said, bending down to kiss her stomach. “We have to be.”

  Trish sighed, wiping away her tears. “Are you sure you want to do this? Wouldn’t it be easier if—”

  “Positive,” I said. “In fact, we should look through a book of baby names, for fun.”

  Trisha arched her brow. “Don't you think that's a bit premature?”

  “We're having a kid!” I said, mustering up an enthusiasm I didn’t feel. I looped my arm around Trisha's shoulders and pulled her in close. Away from the ledge. “I'm going to be a dad,” I murmured into her hair. “C’mon, let’s head back inside.” I turned to go.

  Trish angled her body toward me and shot me the saddest smile I’d ever seen. Her wet lips quivered as she mumbled to herself. “Stupid Trish, stupid, stupid, stupid.” Her eyes betrayed her pain and fear and cowardice. Finally, she said, “I can’t do this, Ki. I’m sorry, I just…can’t.”

  Then her fingers let go of the ledge and she fell.

  I instinctively jerked forward, grabbing her left wrist before she fell further. She dangled precariously, legs flailing…her nails leaving bloody grooves in my palm. “Let me go, Ki. Let me fucking go.” One of her sneakers fell off her foot and disappeared into the darkness below. Raindrops began smattering across our faces.

  “Fuck, no. I’m not giving up on you, ya hear?” I started pulling her back up but she resisted. My arms scraped against the rough bricks, my palms sweaty. “We’re…going…to…be a family…dammit,” I grunted.

  “Ki, I-I’m not cut out-to-to be a mom,” Trish cried, her restless feet kicking the air. “I’d be better for all of us if I was dead.”

  “Just get back up here, then we’ll talk,” I mustered, my whole body shaking. Inch by inch, I began pulling her up until her knees hit the stone-cold ledge. Her feet scrabbled for purchase, finally landing back on the rooftop with a thud. We both let out a simultaneous gasp, then a tired sigh.

  “You scared the bloody shit out of me,” I cried, hugging her close. I could hardly catch my breath and my heart thundered in my ears. “Don’t ever pull that fucking shit again.”

  “You saved me, Ki,” Trish sobbed into my chest. “You saved my life. You really love me, don’t you Ki?” Then, she crumpled over and threw up all over my lap.

  I threaded my fingers through her dirty weave, choking back tears. The stench of her sour vomit stung my nostrils. “Trish, you need to get help. We need to get you some help, baby.”

  Trish said nothing, her fat tears drenching my t-shirt. It wasn’t until a minute later that I realized she’d pissed herself and passed out.

  A week later, we went to Tots and Tiaras and picked out a thick book of baby names. All the miniature toys and clothes excited Trisha to no end. She was mad about onesies, and I indulged her by playing along. Even though my smiles were fake, they still placated Trisha, who was too busy to notice the reluctance in my body language. We didn’t once talk about what happened on the rooftop. I didn’t want to ruin her happy mood. It was a rare occasion when Trisha Mallory had a genuine smile on her face. When she smiled, the whole world seemed to be a better place. It was the smile of a survivor. Too bad she hated her smiles; ever self-conscious of the small gap between her front teeth.

  Thumbing through the thin pages of ‘1001 Baby Names’, my fingers landed on the letter ‘K’. It’d be nice to have a kid with a K-name. Like me. I asked Trish, “What do you think about the name 'Kara'? If it's a girl. K-A-R-A.”

  “Kara. Kara…Kieran and Kara,” Trish repeated to herself. “I like it.”

  I slid the book back on the shelf. “Well, that was easy. I didn't even need to buy the book. Saved myself $12.99.”

  Trisha laughed, weaving her fingers through mine. “What if it's a boy?”

  I shrugged. “I have a feeling it'll be a girl. A beautiful girl who looks just like you.”

  “I hope she looks like you,” Trish said, flashing me a glimpse of her gap-toothed smile. “She’ll be the cutest little princess. A daddy’s girl.”

  “As long as she’s healthy, I don’t care who she looks like,” I said, heart surgin
g with pride. I was going to be fucking dad! And we would be a happy family; I’d make damn sure of that. “Come on, let’s go grab some dinner.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kieran - Ten Years Ago

  “Baby, look what I bought?” I said, setting the colorful shopping bags on the floor. Though Trish was only at twenty-three weeks, I couldn't help but pick up a few toys and books every time I stopped by Tots and Tiaras. This time, I'd gotten a toy xylophone and a few high-contrast board books. They were surprisingly expensive, and I never went a day without wondering whether or not we'd be able to support this baby. But I didn't voice any of my concerns. Trish had enough on her plate. I had to be strong for both of us.

  Her anxiety had been getting out of control again, and in the past month, she'd suffered from three major panic attacks. During her panic attacks, I couldn’t do anything other than hold her and make sure she didn’t hurt herself. She’d hit herself over and over and scream that she was dying, that she could see Jesus. Sometimes she’d roll back and forth across the floor and once, she even suffered from a mild seizure. I was terrified by her flood of emotions, which ravaged her like a tsunami. Each time, her episodes left damages that could never quite be repaired. Cracks in her crumbling soul.

  But I could still save her. This baby would save both of us, I could feel it in my bones. I thanked the lucky stars she didn’t try to kill herself when I was away at work every day. Curbing her suicidal thoughts had been a huge step forward for us.

  I found Trish sitting by the open window, a lit cigarette between her shaking fingers. Puffs of blue-grey smoke escaped her nostrils. A trail of ash dotted her lap. She hopped off the ledge and quickly stubbed out her stick against the peeling wallpaper. She fanned the air around her, trying to disperse any incriminating evidence. “I wasn't expecting you until later.”

  I balled my hands into fists. “You know you're not supposed to smoke while pregnant. The nicotine goes into your blood and that mixes with the baby's blood. It's fucking poison.”

  “It's just this one time, I swear.” Tears were already welling up in Trish’s eyes. “I'm just so fucking stressed out and scared, Kieran. I'm all nerves. I needed this. You understand, right? Right?”

  “Trish, if you think this is bad, what's going to happen when the baby comes out?” I asked.

  “I'll be better. I'll be so much better by then, trust me. I've been going to AA meetings and it's just this one ciggie. Seriously. I haven't even touched my pack for three months.”

  I approached Trisha, suddenly feeling exhausted from listening to her lies. Her clothes reeked of booze and cigarettes, and her hair was sticky with grease. She was unemployed, had been for almost four months now. Relentless morning sickness hit her hard throughout the day and it really showed in her complexion. Her skin was sallow, her teeth brittle and gray. She was a shadow, a wisp of the woman she once was. And she was digging her own fucking grave.

  How could I help someone who’d already given up on herself? Someone who didn’t want to be saved anymore?

  Do it for the baby, I answered myself. Love Trisha for Kara’s sake.

  “No more lies, Trish. I asked Pastor Brown. He says you stopped coming after the first week.”

  My body tensed as Trisha rushed toward me. She cupped my cheeks and tried to kiss me. I turned away in disgust. Her large baby bump made the hug awkward and strained. “You still love me, right Ki, right? I'm sorry...I'm just so sorry...I'm pathetic, I know. But you still love me, don't you?”

  “Trisha, I want to love you...But how can I love someone who doesn't even love herself? You need to respect your own body if you want me to respect you.”

  “I will, I swear,” Trisha cried, her eyes crazed and bloodshot. “I’ll respect my body from now on. I swear.”

  “Treat your body like a temple,” I said more softly, “and let's focus on improving this family. I want our daughter to have the best start in life possible.”

  “Me too. I want that too,” Trisha nodded. “More than anything. I love Kara. I love her so much.”

  “Prove it, Trish. Get better.”

  “I will, Ki, I will.” She muttered a few more ‘I love Kara’s’ before wandering to the bathroom to vomit.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kieran - Ten Years Ago

  “Get out! Get. Out!”

  “Trisha, baby, calm down. You’re not thinking straight,” I pleaded, holding my hands up in the air. I took several steps back until my heels dug into the front door. I had nowhere else to go. I couldn’t leave her like this. Not when she was throwing one of her fits.

  Trisha was thirty-two weeks pregnant now and massive. In the past forty-five minutes, her awkward, bulky frame had laid waste to our living room, ransacking drawers, smashing dishes and tearing photographs. Psycho Trisha had once again reared her jealous head, destroying the careful serenity we’d worked so hard to build over the last two weeks. Trisha pulled out another porcelain plate and hurled it toward my head. It missed my left ear by a few inches and shattered into long shards at my feet.

  “Trisha, please. Deep breaths,” I said, my chest rising and falling fast. “Think of Kara. Please, think of our baby.”

  Trisha’s face was manic and distraught, her brown eyes bulging out of their sockets. “I knew it. I knew there was something going between you and that gyno slut! I thought you were better than that. Sleeping with my fucking gyno? You’ve got no fucking standards, Kieran.”

  My fingers curled into fists, and I held back the urge to throttle her. “For the last fucking time, I’m not sleeping with your fucking gynecologist!” She was delusional and violent, and I couldn’t stop her. Short of physically restraining her, I couldn’t stop the madness. But I didn’t want to touch her again. The last time I tried to calm her down by pinning her wrists, she called the cops on me. Luckily she changed her tune by the time two officers knocked on our door. But still. She wouldn’t hesitate to turn on me. Anger blinded her. She was out for blood.

  “Stop LYING, Kieran. I’m not some retarded, naive, nineteen-year-old girl anymore. I see things. I see fucking everything!”

  “Baby, c’mon. Let’s go take a walk. Go for a breather, what do you say?” I offered.

  Trisha gestured to her belly, her double chin wobbling. “Do I look like I want to go for a fucking walk? I’m hideous and filthy and fatter than an African elephant! I fucking hate myself. You-You did this to me! You knocked me up and now I’m stuck with you. I’m fat and ugly and stuck with you, you disgusting bastard. I’m stuck with a dirty, cheating asshole!”

  I shouldered all her insults, too heartbroken to defend myself. What was the use? She wasn’t listening to a word I said anyway. She was hysterical. Maybe even high. Last week, I discovered angry, red track marks on her arms. She covered them up and said it was nothing. But I knew the damage had already been done. I tried dragging her to the hospital, but she fought me with every ounce of energy she had. And she won. The last thing I needed was to get locked up for abuse. Somehow, I just knew she could make it look like it was all my fault.

  I contemplated calling the cops now, but I didn’t want to risk having them haul her away to the psych ward. Kara was due any day now, and my daughter was not going to be born in a bloody mental ward full of crazies. I didn’t want that kind of life for our innocent baby. Kara deserved better parents than us. She deserved the moon and the stars, not two shitty, broken cons living in a run-down, rat-infested hovel.

  “Get out of my fucking house. Now. I’m done. I’m leaving you. You hear me, you dirty prick? I’m fucking LEAVING.”

  “No,” I said. “I’ll go. Don’t leave. Stay here and I’ll go. Please, just stay safe. I need to know you’re somewhere safe.”

  Trisha folded her shaking arms across her chest and turned away. Her once lustrous hair was brittle now; and all the light in her soul had been replaced by bitter darkness. She had no good left in her, only rot and hatred and anger. Darkness had swallowed my lover, and I knew then I’d
never get her back.

  I couldn’t fight her anymore. I needed to pull back. Step away. I slipped on my leather jacket and baseball cap. “I’m going to go, Trish. Call me if you need anything.” Just as I reached for my cellphone on the counter, there was a sharp rap at the door. “NBPD, open up!”

  I shot daggers at Trisha, unspoken questions hanging in the air.

  Trisha shook her head from side to side so hard I thought she might get whiplash. “No, no, no, no, don’t let them in,” she hissed. Her wide eyes had a crazy look to them, and her nostrils flared wildly. Trish backed up against the window and sank to the floor, surrounding herself in the mess she made. She began picking up shards of glass with her bare hands and smearing her blood on the floor.

  I crossed the distance between us in three steps. Gripping her shoulders, I whispered, “What did you do, Trisha? Answer me.”

  Trish continued shaking her head, tears erupting from her bloodshot eyes. “Save me, Ki, save me. I don’t want them to take me away. Think about Kara. Kara…You gotta save me.”

  “You have on the count of three to open the door,” a voice said. “One..two…”

  I placed a soft kiss on Trisha’s forehead before walking to the door and unlocking the deadbolt. Running a hand through my messy hair, I asked, “Officers, how can I help you?”

  “My name is Officer Blunt with the NBPD. We have a narcotics search warrant…”

  My mind blurred. Black dots danced across my vision and blood whooshed through my head. I saw the warrant, but my vision was too shaky to read it.

  So this was it. This was how it would end.

  Figures shouldered inside, dark uniforms clad in latex gloves. They pulled out drawers and ransacked our closets. Took photos of the chaos and asked me questions I couldn’t quite understand. “Why was there blood everywhere?” “What happened? Was there an argument?” Everything was a huge, disorienting blur.