The Scars That Make Us (Second Generation Book 3)

Chapter 37

CATARINA

My chest was heavy, I couldn’t breathe. I knew what was going on, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I was having a panic attack. I tried so hard to hold it in while Hilda was going over our next appointment. I knew that Jace’s failed heart was a genetic problem, but I guess I had never made the connection between his heart condition to the baby growing in me. Of course, they would be concerned. Genetics, my baby is 50% Jace. Does that mean he or she has a 50% chance of having the same condition? I can’t breathe.

I know that I pushed Jace away, but I couldn’t talk to him. I didn’t want him to see me like this. My eyes were puffy and my hands were jittery. I felt like my world was spinning out of control. When I heard him leave the bedroom, I quickly opened the bathroom door and grabbed my journal and pen, and went back into the bathroom, closing and locking the door once again.

I wasn’t thinking, I just started writing, anything that came into my brain, I wrote down on a piece of paper. Get it out, Catarina, let it all out.

My baby. I love you. So much hope. Love. Care. Broken. The man who put me back together. Jace Alexander. Broken heart. Scars. Heavy. Baby. My Baby. Baby hearts. Pills, medicine, doctors. Heavy, too much.

My words start to look less like words and more just scribbles. I draw pictures and before I know it I’m just doodling, drawing page after page of hearts. Some perfect, some messed up, some imperfectly perfect. That is what we’re dealing with here. Maybe perfect, maybe not, a heart that may be imperfectly perfect, but something we won’t know until a later date.

I close to journal and stand up from the floor. I look in the mirror and think back to the person I was just six months ago. My hair is up in a messy bun and I haven’t washed it in a few days. My stomach is no longer flat and I know the additional roundness in my ass isn’t just because I’m pregnant. Tracy, bless her heart, her homemade cooking is worth every extra pound I gain. In addition, my friendship with Ember has meant a friendship with cake.

I’m not wearing makeup and I don’t feel insecure without it. I lift up my arms and take a look at the scars that make their way from my palms about three inches on both sides. They used to be covered with long sleeves and lots of jewelry, but now all those bracelets stay in a box in the closet, only brought out when I’m dressing up. I’m not the woman I was. I have the same struggles. I have the same constant pressure in my soul to be perfect, but I’m standing here, imperfectly perfect and that is just perfect.

I splash water on my face and make my way out into the main living area. Jace is sitting at the kitchen table and he is either lost in thought or doesn’t hear me coming. I walk up to him, putting my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” I said in a low voice, trying to keep myself from crying again.

Jace turns around and pulls me down onto his lap. He tilts my chin up with his finger and presses his lips against mine, “Talk to me, Cat, what is going on in that pretty head of yours?”

“I’m so scared.” I press my hand against the center of his chest where his scar is. He nods his head, acknowledging my fear. “I knew that what you had was passed down from your dad to you, but I seemed to block out the fact that it could be passed down to our baby.”

“I’m scared too. Granger and I had a talk not that long and he told me that he had spent his entire life trying to protect us kids and this family, but it was so hard for him to realize that I didn’t need him to protect me anymore. I got what he was saying. This is one of those times that I really feel what he was saying though, you know?”