Home Ice.

Chapter Twenty-Six.

Finn

I'm not sure I heard her right. I'm not sure that's what she just said to me, I'm not even sure if she's right in front of me. I don't think what I think she said is actually what she said.

It doesn't make sense. How could she know? She would have told me when she found out, and she couldn't have found out when she was with him. Maybe she's not thinking straight. Maybe it's the trauma talking. Maybe it's a hysterical pregnancy, or something. That's a thing that happens when women have PTSD, right?

I shake my head at her, not being able to believe the words she saying to be true. She's not really pregnant. This isn't how it was supposed to happen. "You're-"

I can't even get out the sentence. She's pregnant?

Oh, God. Oh, fuck. The tests. They weren't for Grace... They were for Avery. She lied? Grace lied?

"But," I try again, looking down at the water that's getting murky from the blood that's leaving her skin. I don't have an end to that sentence. The tests were for her, she was going to take them but she was taken instead.

I drop the wash cloth I was using and stand up, having to walk away from my own wife as she sits in a tub, covered in bruises from a man who I wish I could have ended the life of myself. Those tests in the car really weren't for Grace, they were for Avery. Grace knew. She lied.

She knew that I had a baby and didn't fucking tell me? She knew that not only was my wife at risk, but my baby was too? Who the fuck does that? Who can comfort someone while knowing they're keeping something like that from them?

Holy shit. Avery is pregnant. She's actually pregnant. I'm gonna be a dad.

A sudden wave of excitement crashes over me - my girl is fucking pregnant. We're going to have a baby. This is everything we wanted. I'm going to get to see Avery as a mom, I'm going to be a dad.

But when I turn to look back at her, all that excitement crashes and burns at my feet. She's sitting in that tub covered in heartache, her head dipped low as she traces the water with her fingers. She should be happy, we should be happy. We should be yelling with so much excitement that we can't understand each other. I should be swinging her around until I start to panic that I may have moved her in the wrong way.

But I can't even touch her, so forget about kiss her. The nurse said that Hughes didn't rape her, but he did other things. That son of a bitch touched and violated my pregnant wife.

I walk over to my girl, falling to my knees next to her as I grip onto the edge of the tub. My voice breaks as I plead, "Look at me, baby. Please."

She hesitates, but her broken and dull eyes meet mine eventually. She's so beat up. She has bruises wrapped around her neck and arms, one of her eyes is black and swollen and she has a cut on her full bottom lip. What if the baby isn't okay because of it?

I clear my throat before I try to speak steadily, but it's hard. It's so fucking hard. "I know you can't say much right now, but please," I beg, my voice breaking as my eyes well up again. This can't be fucking happening. "Please, Aves. Talk to me. I need you to tell me how you know. I really need you to talk to me."

She chews on her lip and I half expect her to look away from me but she doesn't. She doesn't show any emotion though, she's done everything with such a straight and emotionless face - even telling me that she's pregnant. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much.

"I felt it for a few days but didn't go to get a test until that day," she tells me, her voice monotone and void of any feeling or emotion. The sound of her voice instantly makes me feel like I'm going to burst into tears. "I didn't get to take one, but I know I am. You have to trust me on that."