Page 33 of Save You
Chapter 12
Beth, now
Something’s up. Xander’s ability to hide his anxiety from me is paramount to a dog trying to hide the fact it’s rolled in horse manure. Not only is he rubbing at the back of his neck every two minutes, but his deep-set frown has become a permanent fixture over the last few days. Of course, every time I try to question him about it, I get the obligatory ‘I’m fine’ before he shuffles away into another room in the hopes that I’ll stop asking. It’s beyond frustrating, and while I’ve tried to give him space, and let him come to me about whatever it is, I know I’m going to have to use the old pregnancy card.
The rain outside is only making him look all the more grey today. Given the fact he hasn’t touched his homemade soup, and he’s now staring at it with eyes that tell me he’s lost in a daydream, I feel it’s finally time to break his stubborn silence.
“Talk!” I order, giving a no-nonsense glare just as he snaps out of his intense one.
“Huh? What?” he replies, trying to shift his facial expression into something more laid-back, foolishly thinking I’ll let it slide. “I’m ok; are you ok?” He tries to reach for my hand, but I pull it back too quickly for him to catch hold.
“Something’s up, Xander Fenton!” I huff, now pointing at him with the same hand he just tried to grasp. “You’re hiding something from me, which is a pretty big mistake considering I’m virtually eight months pregnant and completely hormonal. Talk, Xander, or I’ll open up a can of crazy on you!”
He laughs, and it takes all my willpower not to kick him underneath the table. I’m being beyond serious and am now feeling more than ready to let my cocktail of emotions out onto somebody. Especially when said somebody is frustrating the hell out of me.
“Do you need me to rub your feet, baby?” As he leans his arms onto the table to get closer, I instantly draw back against my chair, cross my arms defiantly, and raise my brow as if daring him to try and bullshit me again. “Beth, don’t look at me like that. I love you, that’s all that matters!”
“Xander, if you don’t tell me, I’ll…” I falter, not even having the energy or the capacity to finish that sentence because I’m the size of a hippo, exhausted, and fed up with living with my big, moody, sulker of a boyfriend. The bastard even smirks when he realizes I’m lost for words. He’s clearly dicing with death and playing chicken for his own amusement.
“Just tell me!” I shout, before throwing what’s left of my bread roll at him. “Please don’t keep secrets from me; I thought we were in this together!”
“Ok, ok,” he finally concedes, putting both hands up in defeat, “Casey was attacked a few days ago.”
He sighs as I gasp over the horror of his revelation. When he finally braves it to look at my face, my mouth is still wide open in shock; I already know who will have been responsible for it. A wave of guilt crashes over me and I begin to hyperventilate as the room sways in my line of vision, causing me to feel nauseated. As my hands drop to the tabletop to try and steady myself, Xander rushes to my side and throws his arms around my shoulders.
“See, this is why I didn’t want to say anything! Just breathe, baby,” he says softly, then begins inhaling and exhaling deep and slow, trying to get me to follow suit.
“I-is she ok?” I ask as I force myself to try and copy his soothing exhalations, feeling completely stupid for making this all about me when he’s the one with his twin sister in hospital.
“She’s ok, now,” he soothes, kissing my hand as he talks, “she’s more shaken up than anything else, but-”
“You need to go see her,” I declare as I nod through my tears, “disguise yourself and go see her!”
“I’m not leaving you here alone, and there’s no way I’m risking you coming with me!”
“Xander, she’s your twin sister!” I cry out, then grab his cheeks to force him to look into my eyes. “Go, you have to.”
I brace myself to argue with him, to make him see how important this is, but he surprises me by nodding his head, all the while he stares at the floor. I can tell he’s reluctant to go, but I also know how much he cares about Casey and how being away from his family is killing him. I can’t blame him; I’m feeling it too. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, I offer him what comfort and reassurance I can.
“I’m sorry, Xander, so sorry!” I whisper, feeling a hollowness in my chest that feels responsible for all that has happened, even if none of it was my choice. It’s still all happened because of me.
“Stop it!” he snaps, pulling back to tell me off with just his eyes. “Don’t even say you’re sorry for loving me, Beth!”
“But this is all my fault! You should be back home, living a normal eighteen-year-old life. Instead, you’re being held up in a cabin with your baby mama, while on the run from her nutcase fiancé!”
“Beth, I regret nothing,” he whispers as he takes hold of me again, “I’m in this with you all the way. This isourproblem,ourdecision, andourbaby! Now stop it, or I’ll stop helping you to put your slippers on in the morning!”
I giggle against him, not really feeling the mirth in it, but it’s enough to release some of the tension that’s been building over the last few weeks. The fear, the anticipation, and exhaustion of what-ifs have been plaguing both of us ever since I hit thirty weeks.
Eventually, I roll into bed, taking the weight of my swollen ankles off from my feet while Xander goes out to call his uncle. I emit the most ridiculous groan when I take a few moments to savor the comfortable mattress beneath my back, which is making me feel like I’m about ninety-four million years old. Pregnancy sure likes to remind you how weak your muscles and bones can be under the right pressure.
After a while, I pick up one of Carol’s ‘What to Expect’ books, so I can try to get information about labor without freaking out at the same time. The mention of a ‘mucus plug’ has me grimacing and chucking it back down to the side of me like it’s made of something just as vile. Xander seems to be taking much longer tonight, making me suspect that his uncle Stephen is thoroughly against the idea of him returning home to see his sister. He has to though, if only to appease his own guilt. He won’t be at peace until he does, and it will only be for a couple of days. Besides, I’ve still got a month to go, and Carol is only a phone call away should anything happen.
Another twenty minutes or so passes by before my tired-looking boy saunters back inside, looking like he’s gone head-to-head with Mike Tyson. I watch him slump onto the bed with a heavy sigh, before falling back to rest his head on top of my lap. He looks so wiped out at this moment, I begin to give him a little head massage, as well as stroking my finger pads over his face. He moans softly with a lazy grin on his face, and when I try to stop, his brow furrows and he pouts in protest, forcing another giggle out of me. His eyes dart open at the sound of my laughing, and he gifts me with one of mischievous grins.
“Come with me,” he says and suddenly jumps to his feet.
“Ok but given how much help I need to haul myself out of bed, this better be worth it, Fenton!” I whine as he pulls back the bedsheet and helps me up so I can waddle behind him into the living room.