Kylie Brant - In Sight Of The Enemy

And he’d remember anew the agony of their parting.

“Let’s not do this again, Cass.” His voice was raw. So were his feelings, though he’d half convinced himself he no longer possessed any. “Nothing’s changed, and there’s no reason to put ourselves through hell. It’s over between us.” The words burned his throat as he uttered them. But if they affected her, there was no sign of it on her face.

“You’re right—it is over.” She’d made the biggest mistake of her life when she’d trusted him with her secret. When she’d expected love to mean acceptance. It wasn’t a mistake she’d repeat. And it had been an act of supreme self-indulgence. She knew what the future held for her. She’d dreamed it all too often in excruciating Technicolor detail. It would be hideously unfair to put a loved one through the pain caused by her death. It was better, far better, to limit the number of people it would impact.

She quieted the inner voice jeering at that thought and concentrated on the man before her. “I won’t pretend I wasn’t tempted to avoid this meeting. But you deserve to know the truth.”

“The truth?” A corner of his mouth pulled downward. “I’m not sure you and I can ever agree on exactly what that means.”

His words stung like tiny angry bees. “This has enough scientific evidence to satisfy even you. I’m pregnant. You’re going to be a father.”

The news punched through him like a fist to the solar plexus, leeching his lungs of oxygen. Senses reeling, Shane shook his head a little, as if that would help him make sense of the incomprehensible.

“But…we were careful.” As soon as he managed the words, he winced. As a doctor, he knew better than most the limitations of birth control. But shock was hazing his thinking, making logic difficult to summon. Cassie was pregnant. And the baby was his. He never entertained a doubt about that.

Raking her still slender form with his gaze, he demanded, “How far along?”

“Fourteen weeks.”

“The bed-and-breakfast,” he murmured.

“Probably.”

For a moment their gazes caught, an unspoken sea of memories eddying between them. Sunlight slanting through the sheers at the window, long leisurely mornings spent in bed as the world had seemed to narrow its focus to just the two of them.

Before the memories could ensnare him, he neatly sidestepped them. “Who’s your doctor? Have you had any tests yet? How’s your health?” He cocked his head, his gaze turning professional. “How much weight have you gained? You are eating, aren’t you?”

“Relax. I’m seeing Dr. Godden.”

Satisfied, he gave a quick nod. “Joanne’s good.”

“And—” a corner of her mouth rose “—you should know by now that nothing could ever keep me from eating.”

She managed to surprise a smile from him. “I remember. But nausea often accompanies the first few months of pregnancy. It’d be better if you could get through it on your own, but there are medications available if you can’t.”

“No nausea. I’ve gained two pounds already.”

He frowned, crossed to sit next to her. “That’s not enough.”

“Dr. Godden isn’t concerned. You shouldn’t be either.” She hesitated then, before adding briskly, “I mean that, too. I don’t want you to worry about anything. Neither of us planned on this, but I’m going to keep the baby and raise it. I thought it would be easiest all around if I gave it my last name. You can be involved to whatever degree is comfortable for you, or not at all, if that’s what you want. The decision is yours.” The last few sentences came out in a rush, as if she’d practiced them long and hard and wanted them uttered before she lost her nerve.

She rose then, and turned toward the door. “I know this is a lot to lay on you all at once as soon as you returned, so feel free to take your time thinking about it. You can let me know whatever you decide.”

There was a little flare of anger directly beneath his heart. As a dismissal, it wasn’t particularly subtle. Reaching for her hand, he tugged on it. She bounced down on the couch again, and he kept her there, not releasing his grip. He waited for her to look at him before saying, “A tidy little speech, Cass, designed to let me off the hook. But you’re overlooking one thing—this baby is mine, too.” Saying the words out loud somehow made them feel more real. “And I’d never walk away. I intend to be fully involved.” Abandonment came easily to some men. Certainly his father had never looked back when he’d left over twenty years ago. There was no way Shane would ever do that to his own child. And the fact that Cassie had thought he might hurt more than it should.

“I…” Her gaze went to their hands. “All right, then. I just wanted you to know you had a choice.”

He smiled humorlessly. “No. I don’t.” He didn’t expect her to know that, or to understand it. Emotional scars could last far longer than physical ones. Every experience, especially the painful ones, left indelible marks on a person’s character. And it wasn’t in Shane’s to walk away from his responsibility, to let his child grow up without a father in its life. He hadn’t changed that much.

“Okay, then.” She tried for a smile, didn’t quite manage to pull it off. When she attempted to slip her fingers from his grasp, he didn’t let her. Wetting her lips, she faced him squarely. “I know this is complicated, but it doesn’t have to be. I’d never deny you access to the child, and if you stay in the area, there’s no reason we can’t share custody. I’d have some concerns with visitation, of course, if you decide to practice elsewhere, say out-of-state, at least until the child is older. But if—”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Thirty minutes earlier he’d never have imagined uttering that sentence. He’d come back to Greenlaurel not knowing anymore who he was or where he belonged. But he had a piece of that answer now, from a most unexpected direction. He belonged with his child.

She tugged at her fingers again. “If you’d let me go, I’ll get the ultrasound picture to show you.”

He released her and she left the room, returning in a minute to hand him the picture. He’d seen many of them, of course. As a resident, he’d done a stint in the OB-GYN unit at Boston General.

So he was unprepared for the tide of emotion that ambushed him then, filling his chest and straining his heart. It shoved aside the clinical, scientific detachment he’d always examined these pictures with before. He stared at the white lines on the picture, detailing the tiny perfect form. Unconsciously he traced them with his forefinger. The baby had one small fist to its mouth, as if already searching for the contentment supplied by a miniature thumb. The date was stamped across the top, almost a month ago, with Cassie’s name next to it.

“Shane?” Cassie’s voice held a question. Only then did he realize how long he’d spent staring at the picture. “You can keep that if you want. I have another.” When he didn’t answer, couldn’t, her voice grew uncertain. “Unless you’ve… Have you changed your mind?”

“No.” Because his throat seemed full, he cleared it. “I haven’t changed my mind.” The curtain of numbness that had shrouded his emotions for long months had begun shredding the moment he’d seen her letter, had rented when she’d opened the door and he’d seen her once again.

His defenses had crumbled when he’d taken one look at the tiny form in the picture and fully realized what it meant. His child.

He took one last glance at the picture before forcing himself to tuck it into his shirt pocket. “Did they tell you the sex?” Although the determination could be tricky at this early date, he had a good idea.