Chapter 30

He puts all of his husky frame against the solid wood door and breaks through the front door, soaking wet and bloodied. His hands are tied, and his face is a mess, but he has this smile. This unwavering, sadistic smile that mocks her. The one that tells her the boy has revenge on his mind. It tells her he still has the power. Even in death, he has a hold on her. His eyes are hollow nothingness, carved out and empty. She lies, unsuspecting, next to her gentle lover Brady, who has no clue about the danger that lurks at night in her thoughts.

She's told herself a thousand times that maybe he isn't really dead and as many times has dismissed the thought. The room turns cold, so Chloe grips onto Brady tighter, snuggling into his chest and heaving his arm around her for protection. Her eyes close automatically when she hears the soggy footprints in the hall. She knows it is him as clearly as she knows her own name.

There are two sets of footprints she can make out. They step into the room, broken and bloodied. Derek comes first, circling the bed until finally settling at the foot. Then with slow, angry steps comes her fallen companion, the man she thought she had loved. Tony. His expression is just as exaggerated as Derek's, only his face is twisted up into an angry ball. The lines on his face are harsh. His eyes, once loving, soft brown orbs, are now darkened with rage and contempt. The eyes of one who has died at the hands of another by no one's fault but her own.

She turns from his gaze, unable to stomach the guilt that rises like acidic bile. She knows they have come for her, to pull her towards the muddy underground that rips and burns the soul right out of a person. Chloe pulls the covers over her head, trying to hide from her demons in that child-like notion that monsters that lived under your bed could not penetrate the thin cotton sheets. But these were not the same scaley beings she had conjured up in her dreams. It was more real, more solid because they had once been alive, part of her life. She knew them in life, and now she knew them in death. All their flaws, all their anger seemed to radiate off their dead skin and taunt her.

She can feel her breathing become erratic, and as hard as she concentrates, she can't stop the chill from running up her spine and the cold sweat that forms down her back, soaking into her nightgown. She knows they're waiting. She knows what they want, and she won't let them have it. Forcing her courage from the very pit of her being, she removes the covers that separate her from her bullet-ridden assailants. ""You can't take him!" she announces loudly and defiantly, with unwavering anger.

They stare at her, and there is no emotion reflected back in their cold stances. The smiles gleam on their ashen gray faces, and Chloe knows it is too late. Turning, she finds Brady gasping for air. No one is near him, but he seems to be fighting a strong hand around his neck. Death. It could only be death. Her entire body shudders, and she kneels next to him, trying to desperately dislodge the unseen ghost.

The laughter echos hard and harsh against her ears. All at once, Brady's body becomes limp, and her heart is out of her chest, and she finds herself clawing at the bed sheets. "No!" Chloe screams as his body dissolves in front of her very eyes. Her senses crash together, and she can't make heads or tails of the room, the world.

Her direction is askew, and suddenly she is on a ledge, precariously dangling over the raging cars and city lights below. "Just kill me!" she screams to the smiles above her, transfixed in the clouds. What else did she have to live for? There was nothing without Brady. And now he was gone, and she wanted to die. Die painfully and torturously for all the wrong she had done.

"I'm sorry!" she yells above the horns and sirens from the street. "I'm...sorry...I'm sorry...I'm sorry!" And now her soft moans had become loud, raucous, painful cries that she just couldn't control.

"I'm sorry!" she whimpered. Chloe tossed and turned next to Brady as he struggled to wake her up.

"Chloe, sweetie...wake up," he cooed against her ear, as he scooped her up into his lap, despite every muscle in his body that put up a protest. "It's all right. You're safe!" he soothed, running his fingers gently over her face. He brushed her sweat-tangled hair off to the side, so softly she wouldn't have felt it even if she had been awake. "Come on, sweetie...my diva, wake up."

Chloe choked out a strangled cry and opened her eyes, finding Brady's smiling face looking down at her. She clung to his chest, holding him so tight it hurt.

In this state, she couldn't remember that he was still healing, still sore as hell. But he wasn't going to tell her. Whatever she had been dreaming about, it was bad. She needed him. Needed his love, and he was not going to deny her. The greatest pleasure anyone could receive was sacrificing something for the one they loved. "You had a bad dream," he said softly, running his fingers over her cheek.

Chloe looked into his eyes, and as if suddenly remembering something, she let go of him and stood shakily on her feet. With no time to lose, she rushed to the bathroom and threw herself against the toilet bowl, where she proceeded to empty her stomach. Brady came in the room behind her, running cold water over a cloth and placing it at the base of her neck as she heaved.

Straining and in incredible pain, Brady knelt beside Chloe as best he could, thankful that he no longer had a thick cast to compete with, and pushed her hair away from her face. "It's okay," he soothed and rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, wiping away the tears that came to her eyes.

"Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about," he assured her, pulling her towards him. "Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked softly.

"It was awful," she choked. "Brady, do you think that people who died violently can come back and hurt someone if they really want to?"

Chloe shrugged her shoulders and refused to meet his gaze.

"I told you this was going to happen. You weren't the one that killed him, Chloe. No matter what you think, he can't hurt you. Not now, not ever again. Once you're dead, you're dead, and that's it," he explained logically.

"So you don't believe in ghosts? How 'bout angels?"

"I didn't say that. I just think you are worrying yourself sick for nothing. Now, come on. Let's go back to bed."

Chloe nodded and stood up, turning to watch as Brady struggled to pull himself up.

He knew she was looking at him. He could feel it. "I'm fine," he panted and triumphantly made it to his feet, albeit breathing heavily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Chloe, what are you doing in there?" Brady hollered from his place on the couch. His leg was propped up on pillows, and before him on the coffee table was an array of junk food, perfect for a night at home, relaxing and watching movies.

"I'll be out in a minute!" Chloe replied, trying to keep her voice calm. Despite the slight urgency that hinted her tone, she thought she sounded normal.

"I'm going to eat all the ice cream!" he laughed as he took a huge scoop into his mouth. It had been a few weeks, and the cast had come off, but his leg was still weak. Today, he had a particularly rough time with it. After physical therapy, his knee was throbbing. Trying to make him feel better, Chloe had suggested that they stay in and watch movies with plenty of junk food, instead of going out to a sit down dinner as they had planned.

Chloe held the test in her trembling hand, and after reading the directions three times, she now waited. In three minutes, she would know her future. God, she was so scared. She had no one to confide in. Not even a single female friend who she could relay her worries to, unless she counted Carla, the thirty-six year-old mother of four that worked weekends at Brady's Auto Shop. But somehow, she didn't think she would understand. The morning sickness was starting to go away, and she was glad about that. She wasn't sure that Brady was buying her excuses about stress anymore, and neither was she. She didn't know why she had waited so long to take a test. Chloe didn't know what to think, or what to do. She didn't know how Brady would react. But a huge part of her wanted this baby, wanted it so badly she was afraid what she would do if the test was negative.

She checked her watched again. "Goddam it! What is it about pregnancy tests that make a minute seem like an hour?" she mumbled to herself.

"What was that, Chloe?" Brady asked from outside the door.

"I said Goddamn it, I'm out of tampons. Could you be a sweetheart and run to the store to get some for me?"

"What!?" Brady choked out, unsure he heard right.

"Oh, relax. I'll go myself. What are you doing hovering outside the door?"

"Nothing. I was just checking up on you. You do realize how long you've been in there, don't you?"

"Brady, I have cramps, okay? I was just looking for some aspirin or Tylenol or something."

"Yeah, um...there should be some in the counter right beside..."

"The condoms?"

"Yeah." Brady smiled, sure his face was red and glad there was an inch of solid wood between them so she couldn't see his face. "I'll just go wait in the living room."

"I think that would be best," Chloe told him nervously, hating to lie to him. Condoms, Chloe laughed. You'd think the guy had stocks the way he piles them up. He had enough bloody condoms to keep the army secure for a month, and yet they hadn't used a single one during their night of passion.

She checked her watch again. It was time. She picked up the tube from the bathroom sink where it rested and closed her eyes as she brought it closer. Somewhere deep inside, she already knew what it would say. Peeking at the test, she saw it was positive and didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But the smile that formed on her face was instantaneous. She was pregnant, and now she knew.

Resting on the closed toiled seat, Chloe lifted up her shirt. She looked down at her stomach. It seemed normal enough, but there was a baby inside. A perfect, beautiful baby, she imagined. God, how was she going to tell Brady?

Chloe composed herself as best she could and strutted out into the living room. She walked slowly, trying not to overanalyse her movements. Was there a certain way pregnant women walked? Of course there was, wasn't there? Was she moving differently? Would Brady notice? She couldn't control the thoughts that ran rampantly through her brain.

Brady was now lying on the couch with a massive bowl of popcorn beside him. The blanket that partially covered him he held out for her with open arms. "Come here," he told her and wrapped his arms around her protectively when she obliged. "Do you feel better now?" he asked, kissing her temple.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," she lied, smoothing her hair behind her ear. "Oh, popcorn!" she gasped and moved the bowl so that it was right next to her. She ate happily and kept her mouth full until there was no popcorn left. When the fist that she had greedily scooped inside the bowl came up empty, she frowned and moved the bowl to the floor beside the couch.

Brady smiled beside her. "I guess you were hungry."

Chloe's face went red, and she just nodded.

"You know, there is some leftover Chinese food in the fridge, if you want some," he told her.

Chloe thought it over in her head and looked down at her stomach. Well, she was eating for two now, and she was still hungry. What the hell? She might as well indulge herself. "I think I just might take you up on that." She smiled. "Want me to bring you back anything?"

"Oh no. I'm all right. You go ahead." He laughed as she bounded into the kitchen to raid the refrigerator.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

An hour later and after a hell of a lot of food, Chloe and Brady laid down in bed to go to sleep. Chloe felt a mild case of heartburn coming on and knew she shouldn't have had those last three slices of pizza.

"Yeah. I guess I was just making up for not eating breakfast or lunch today," she lied.

He kissed her forehead and turned to his side of the bed. "Well, whatever it is, I'm glad for it," he muttered sleepily.

"Brady?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you going to do about your father?" Chloe questioned apprehensively.

"What do you mean?" he asked, hating where this conversation could be headed.

"Well, don't you think for the sake of your sister you should try to get along with him?"

"Belle knows that we'll never get along. Where is all this coming from?" Brady turned to face her.

"I just thought...all I'm saying is that one day you might really need him, and then where will you be?"

"What would I need him for? The man has no heart, Chloe. He hates me, and there is nothing more to say," he told her with contempt in his voice.

"I'm sure he doesn't hate you. A father doesn't hate his own son, no matter what happens between them," she said quietly, running her fingers over his face.

He took her hand in his and kissed her fingertips. "You don't know my father." He dropped his gaze. "Let's just drop this, okay? I've had a long day. I just want to go to sleep. Goodnight." Brady let go of her hand and rolled over, closing his eyes and willing sleep to come. He didn't want to think about his father and couldn't understand why Chloe kept bringing the man up.

Chloe looked at Brady's bare back in the darkness. She couldn't figure out how one man could hate another so much and for no good reason. Brady was wrong. She was sure of it. His father loved him, like any man loves his son, and like any other man, just had a hard time expressing himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was distance between them. He could sense it and wondered if it was his fault. It had been a while since he could hold her the way he wanted to. He was no longer the rock that she could lean on. He had been depending on her more lately than he ever had on any other person his entire life. So long, he thought. So long since he had touched her, made love to her. He wanted it. He knew she wanted it by the way she would press up against him every night. It wasn't like she had no effect on him, but he couldn't make love to her the way she deserved to be made love too. She didn't deserve half the effort, a feeble attempt. She deserved every jolt and burst of electricity he had to offer.

But God, she was beautiful. He edged his way up on his elbow of his strong, uninjured arm. He watched her sleep. Watched the even rise and fall of her ample chest and felt his groin react. Dammit, he thought miserably. Chloe's lips turned up in her sleep into a smile, and she let out the tiniest of murmurs that made Brady's chest constrict. He knew she needed him, knew she was feeling the loss just as strongly as he was, but he just couldn't give into her, not yet.

Throwing the covers off himself in frustration, Brady struggled to stand. Brady limped to the toilet, still unsteady on his feet. He lifted the toilet lid and slid down his zipper. He clutched the sink to steady himself as he teetered, and that's when he noticed the tiny white strip wrapped in toilet paper peeking out of his trash bin. "Holy fuck!"

Brady peeled the paper of the sleek tube and studied it. He knew what it was. He wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't sure what the outcome was. Bending down, he tipped over the trash bin until the contents spilled out onto the bathroom floor. He found the box, and sure enough, the instructions were inside. He read carefully and then looked at the twin lines.

He felt queasy and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. He looked at the test once again, and a slow smile began to form on his face. "A baby," he whispered aloud. This was what he had been waiting for. Some sign that he was destined for greatness in this world, and being a father was the most exhilarating concept he could think of and one of the scariest.

Chloe rustled around in the bed. She didn't want to get up, but her bladder had other ideas. She sat straight up and groaned when she saw Brady's space empty. Walking towards the bathroom, Chloe grunted Brady's name. "I really have to go," she whined at the door.

"I'll be out in a minute," he said nervously, setting the trash back in its place and re-wrapping the pregnancy test so she wouldn't know he had seen it. For whatever reason, she hadn't told him yet, and knowing Chloe, she had her reasons. He wouldn't force her to tell him, not if she wasn't ready.

"Brady! Brady, I'm serious...if you think this is cute, you have another thing coming. Because let me tell you..."

"Tell me what?" he asked as he opened the door and pouted like a little puppy dog. He leaned down to kiss her, and he barely made contact as she barrelled past him and made her way to the toilet.

Brady hobbled back to bed, unsure how well she would be able to read him. He thought it best for her not to see his expression, so he settled back into their darkened room and waited for her to reemerge. Chloe came back into the bedroom with a smile on her face. She bounced back into bed with a new attitude than she had a minute previously.

Chloe seductively ran her fingers over his smooth chest and grinned like the devil. "Since we're both up, why don't we just...?"

"I'm too tired," he lied, turning his back to her and closing his eyes.

"Come on, baby," Chloe persisted. "It's been a long time," she told him, and Brady couldn't ignore the hint of pain that coated her voice.

"My knee is really hurting tonight. I'm sorry."

Chloe rubbed her hand down his leg and gently massaged his knee. "Maybe it'll help."

"Chloe...I just don't feel like it, okay!?" He didn't mean to sound that harsh, but that was just how it came out. He didn't want to be angry with her for keeping a secret. He wanted to understand, but a part of him was deeply hurt that she had yet to confide in him.

Chloe instantly stopped touching him and turned to her side of the bed, which felt so far away from him and his touch. She couldn't help the first tear that fell, nor the ones that came after it. Brady heard her light sobs, and his heart ached to be with her. He turned and with his good arm forced her body next to his, so she was spooned against him. "Don't cry. Please don't cry!" he whispered against her ear and kissed her temple softly.

"Don't you want me anymore?" she asked so quietly it nearly brought him to tears with her. Chloe didn't want to cry. She tried not to, but if anything else, her hormones were all mixed up and so she blamed it on that. She didn't want to admit how lonely she felt, how undesirable and how scared she was.

"Of course I do. I want you more than anything. You know that, but not when I'm barely able to walk on my own."

"It doesn't matter, Brade, not to me."

"I know it doesn't. It's just a male pride thing, I guess. Don't ever think I don't want to be with you, okay?" He could feel her nod against him, while she turned to face him. She nuzzled into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. "You know I love you, right?" he asked and couldn't help the constriction of his chest when she didn't respond. "Right?"

"I guess so," she whispered.

"Chloe, how can you not know how much I love you? You know you are the only person...do you hear me?" he asked, tilting her chin so she was forced to look at him. "I said you're the only person I want to be with, and I love you so much sometimes it hurts."

"I know, Brady. I know," she told him, rubbing her eyes. "Just sometimes I need to hear it."

He kissed her forehead and then very gently let his hand trace the length of her body and rest against her rib cage. Slowly, he moved his fingers over her stomach and deliberately explored. His motions were soft and sweet and not driven by sexual desire. If Chloe had been less tired, she wouldn't have reacted. But her emotions were already on overdrive, and when he touched her where their baby was, she let the tears escape her eyes once again.

Brady knew she was feeling guilt, but he couldn't control himself. Finding out she was pregnant had already changed him. He was going to be a father, and though indirectly, he was touching his son or daughter, and it was amazing. He didn't think his heart could love like this, love something that wasn't even tangible. Yet he did, and he loved Chloe even more for giving this moment to him. "I love you," he whispered and closed his eyes, leaving his hand between them.