Mended (Lucian & Lia #3)

“Aidan, handle things as you see fit.” I look at my friend—really look at him for the first time in months—and I can’t help but notice how tired he looks. The dark circles under his eyes say he’s not sleeping. He’s obsessed with having what he has always wanted—but sometimes that turns out to be a mirage. I wonder uneasily how hard he’ll fall if his hope is dashed. In the end though, isn’t that all that anyone has? The hope of a better day and a different outcome? I’ve lived the hopeless existence before and nothing seems to penetrate the bleak, dark pit of despair. Your actions become mechanical and each day is a struggle to go through the motions of living. I love Aidan like a brother and I don’t want that for him. Am I being selfish and vindictive or merely trying to protect Lia and our unborn child? The lines blur when I think of Cassie—they always have. I fear that I am unknowingly sacrificing the happiness of my best friend in pursuit of my own. “Good luck, brother,” I add and try like hell to mean the words.

He gets to his feet, looking less tense. He knows I haven’t made a miraculous turnaround in my feelings toward Cassie, but he also understands that I’m backing away to give him his chance. “You’ll see, Luc, everything will work out.” I think he’s trying to convince himself more than me at this point, but I incline my head in acknowledgment.

“I know it will,” I reply. I’m just not sure it will be in the way he believes. “Keep me updated on the negotiations with Kenson, all right? I’m ready to close the deal before they receive any other offers. I want the company, but I don’t want to pay in blood to get it.”

Giving me his signature, cocky grin, he says, “I’ll get it for you, Luc. Don’t I always?”

“That you do.” I laugh in return. Aidan could charm the panties off a nun in less than sixty seconds if he set his mind to it. I’ve little doubt Kenson will sign on the dotted line very soon.

When he’s gone, I lay my head back, before sitting up and opening my top drawer. Just a month ago, it would have held my stash of white powder. I would have almost certainly made use of it today. The situation with Cassie was what hooked me on cocaine in the first place, and it’s also what’s kept me coming back to it for years. There is no acceptable excuse, though. It was pure, fucking weakness and an inability to cope with my guilt. It disgusts me that even now, more than a month after quitting cold turkey, my hands still tremble as my level of agitation rises. I haven’t been a daily user in a long time, but something about knowing it’s no longer readily available makes it hell to get past. It’s moments like this when I feel so unworthy of the woman I love. I want it to be a simple matter of deciding to quit using, but it’s never going to be that for me. I can’t imagine there will ever be a time I won’t have the desire to snort a line when life stresses me out. I wasn’t lying when I said it had gotten better, and some days that’s true. And others, like today, I feel as if I’m bailing water by the glass while the ship is taking on a bucket. I’ll never give up, though. I’m so close to having a family again and I will not let anything take that from me—even If I have to fight myself every step of the way.

Chapter Eight

Lia

“Ughhh!” I groan, before running down the hallway and into the bathroom. No doubt, Lucian is still standing at the front door trying to figure out what’s going on. Today is my first OB/GYN appointment and we were just getting ready to leave when I felt the now familiar roil of my stomach. I’ve learned the hard way that I have very little time after that feeling to get to the toilet.

“Oh, baby,” I hear behind me as my stomach heaves. He holds my hair with one hand and rubs my back with the other. “I hate seeing you go through this every day. It makes me want to cut my dick off.”

Despite my misery, I can’t contain my laughter at his grim statement. “Let’s not do anything drastic,” I joke weakly, even though the same thought has crossed my mind a few times while worshipping the porcelain god.

“Are you finished?” he asks when a few minutes have passed without any additional throwing up. I nod and he quickly and efficiently goes about cleaning me up. I have no doubt that Lucian will be as equally caring for our baby.

When my teeth have been brushed and my top changed, we’re once again on our way out the door. This time without incident. Lucian chose to drive us and not use Sam. I think he likes time to absorb any new “baby” information before he has to answer questions from his friends. I feel the same way as well. I no longer panic over every reference to my pregnancy, but I’m still a bundle of nerves about it. Since the morning sickness hit though, I’ve had less time to dwell on my impending motherhood. My focus is usually trying to work around my heaving sessions so I can make it to school on time.

I put my hand on Lucian’s strong thigh as he drives us through the streets of Asheville. “Thanks, Luc,” I say, feeling emotional. I cry over nothing these days. I dropped my glass of juice two mornings ago and sobbed for thirty minutes. Lucian was beside himself by the time I finally got it together.

His hand briefly covers mine as he throws me a quizzical look. “For what?”

“For taking care of me and overlooking my mood swings. I know it can’t be easy for you.” He’s dealing with so much already that my weepiness is the last thing he needs added to his plate.

“Ah, baby, you don’t have to thank me. It’s my privilege and never a chore. You’re carrying our child inside you. I’d be a bit of a bastard if I walked off to let you deal with everything alone, wouldn’t I?”