Page 30 of Condemned Soul

“No.” I slouch back in my chair and fold my arms. “You're too close to your time. I wanna know you’re safe.”

She lets out a frustrated growl and when I notice how flustered she looks, I head behind the bar to fix her an iced water.

“Jimmer, I told you how things were to be. You can’t do this, it’s not fair.” She shakes her head as she snatches the drink from my hands and takes a sip.

“And denyin’ me the chance to be a father to my kid is?” I shake my head and glance down at the wedding band that’s on her finger now. “I take it my invite to ya shotgun weddin’ got lost in the mail.” I laugh as I retake my seat and slide my hand over my mouth. Since that day on her parents' doorstep when she told me she wanted nothing to do with me, I’ve respected her request and stayed away, but that doesn’t mean I’ve let her go. I’ve had some friends of Vex’s keeping an eye on her for me ever since.

“I explained to you why it had to be this way,” she tells me as if she’s running out of patience.

“Doesn’t mean I have to accept it.” I shrug.

“I don’t need this stress. Why are you doing this?” She looks ready to burst into tears and as much as I hate it, I can’t help wanting her to feel just a fraction of my pain. If she did, she might understand.

“I’m doing this because whether you want to admit it or not, that's my baby you're havin’.” I point to her very protruding stomach, in case she needs a fuckin’ reminder. “And I don’t trust your sleazeball husband. I’ve done some research and I don’t like some of the things I’ve heard about him.”

“Vincent?” She laughs at me. “Vincent is the straightest man there is. He is exactly what me and my baby need.” Her hand strokes the side of her stomach.

“Our baby,” I correct her, tempted to reach out and touch it myself.

“Please don’t ruin this for me, Jimmer. I need this. Your child needs this,” she begs, and her beautiful, hurt-filled eyes, suddenly look tired and worn out.

“I deserve to be a part of my child’s life,” I remind her.

“Your child doesn't deserve to be part of this one.” She looks around the empty room surrounding us. We’re mid-move to the Blue Spruce Resort so everything here is a little sparser than usual. “Do the right thing.” She lowers her tone to a whisper, and I hate that despite what she’s doing to me, I’m still madly in love with her.

“Joanne, you're making a mistake.”

“No.” She rests both her hands on the table and leans over it. “I’m fixing our mistake.” Her eyes stare deep into mine, daring me to argue, and just as I’m about to tell her to screw herself, she tightly squints them shut and lets out a painful moan.

“Joanne.” I quickly stand up so I can steady her.

“It’s fine, they’re just fake contractions.” She eventually lifts her head back up and catches her breath back. “I get them from time to time. It’s normal.” She looks down to where my hand is now resting protectively over her stomach and for just a second, it looks as if she sympathizes with me.

“Do the right thing, Jimmer.” She backs away from me and steps out the door but instead of hearing it slam like I expect, I hear another one of her moans.

“Jo?” I rush toward her and the puddle around her feet suggests to me that there's nothing fake about these contractions.

“Shit, Jimmer.” Her eyes are full of fear when they look up at me.

“Come on.” I immediately lift her off her feet and carry her toward one of the cages that are parked on the street outside.

“What are you doin’?” she asks with a useless attempt to fight me off as I slide her into the passenger seat.

“I’m doin’ the right thing. I’m gettin’ you to the hospital.” I slam the door shut before she can argue.

* * *

“Everything here's looking good, are you sure you don’t want something for the pain?” The nurse is still seeing to Joanne when I come back from making a call to Brian. He’s gonna have to deal with the little problem Roswell brought to me this morning himself because right now I belong here. Joanne hasn’t asked me to leave yet, and I know it’s because she’s terrified. The doctors have her all hooked up to a monitor, her contractions are getting closer together and I have no idea why she ain’t taking the nurse up on her offer for pain relief.

“You know refusin’ drugs doesn’t make you a hero, Joanne.” I pass her some ice chips and watch her scowl at me when another contraction hits her. I offer her my hand and when she squeezes it tight, all my anger for her vanishes. Suddenly, I’m just grateful to be here and able to comfort her.

“Why are you determined to put yourself through so much pain?” I question her when the contraction subsides and she flops her head back on the pillow with relief. I can tell from the way she’s refusing to make eye contact that she knows I won’t like her answer.

“Vincent says it’s bad for the baby,” she admits with a casual shrug of her shoulders.

“I got two points to make on that. First one bein’ that they wouldn’t offer it ya if it was bad for the baby, and the second one bein’ Vincent ain’t here.” I raise my eyebrow at her playfully and watch her cheeks flush even redder. She barely gets any recovery time before another contraction hits her, and this time she automatically grabs my arm and squeezes the hell out of it while she wails.

I hate seeing her in pain, more than that, I hate the fact there's nothing I can do about it.

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