Page 56 of Always My Comfort

My heart was racing, pounding so loudly that I couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in my ears. His voice wasn’t calming me. All I could see was my increasing speed and Richard’s angry expression.

“What do I do?” I whispered, slowing down when the semi in front of me suddenly slammed on the brakes, traffic coming to standstill. Richard was next to me, boxing me in. And now, he was opening his door and getting out.

“I’m here.” I couldn’t see Jaxon’s F-150, but suddenly, he was at my door, trying to yank it open. I shakily unlocked the door and unclipped my safety belt, relief flooding my veins at the sight of him. He pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “He won’t hurt you, Logan. The boys are back there. Go with them.”

Luke, Jax’s best friend, was standing there at Jaxon’s back, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Richard over the roof of my sedan. Jax pushed me toward Luke, and I tripped over my own feet, straight into him.

Luke’s hand gripped my forearms, pulling me in front of him as he walked us back a few cars to Jaxon’s black F-15. I slid into the backseat with two of the Braves players Jax had befriended.

“Hey, boys.” My voice shook when I spoke, but they smiled.

“Hey, Logan. Sorry about that dick, but you don’t have to worry. We’re here now. You’re safe with us,” Luke said from the front seat where he was gripping the steering wheel.

I watched through the windshield as Richard raised his hands up and pointed at the truck where I was sitting, rage coming off him in waves. I didn’t know this side of him. Never once had he shown an ounce of anger to me in all the time that we dated. This side of him was terrifying.

“He’s going to hurt, Jax,” I whispered, biting my nails worriedly.

“Cops should be here any minute. We called them on the way,” one of the guys beside me spoke up. I forgot his name, but in this moment, it didn’t matter because he smiled softly. “Everything is going to be okay, Logan,” he assured me. Everyone kept trying to assure me, but nothing felt okay.

True to his word though, a cruiser pulled up, red and blue light flashing. The officers immediately restrained Richard, who had shoved Jaxon up against my car.

They took my statement, and then Jax demanded a restraining order to keep Richard away, especially with our little boy due any day.

An hour later, Jax was driving me home in my car, and Luke was behind us in the F-150.

“How come Luke is here?” I asked, playing with the hem of my shirt, trying to find any distraction because the silence in the car was killing me.

“Came to visit,” Jax grunted, his body stiff, both hands on the steering wheel. “Why weren’t you at home? You know you shouldn’t be drivin’.”

I glanced out the window at the city. The buildings hid the setting sun, and I wished we were anywhere but here. He mentioned going to visit his family, but with the baby due so soon, we hadn’t really had a chance to go back, and he didn’t want us to be so far from my doctor in case the baby came and there were complications.

This man was always worried about something going wrong.

“I spoke with Kenna earlier and wanted to make your favorite dinner. I was getting groceries.” His body softened, and he placed a hand on my bouncing knee.

“You still up to cooking lasagna after all that?” There was a small grin replacing the frown that had been pulling his lips down.

“Depends on if you’re up to helping and giving me a foot rub.”

He cracked a grin. “Oh, that can be arranged, sweetheart. I’ll do anythin’ for you; you know that.”

* * *

Everything was ready.

We’d painted the room a soft blue and decorated it with too many tiny baseball signs to count on one hand. Jaxon had found a giant mitt for a rocking chair, and even had a sign made with our son’s name on it, which was hanging above the crib.

I spent hours with Scarlett in every baby store, buying all the cutest clothes, stocking up on diapers, and more things than I could ever possibly need.

Jax and I packed my bag two weeks ago, and then, we packed the baby’s bag. Everything was waiting by the door for a quick grab when the time came.

We’d debated on his name for weeks, throwing random ideas around until suddenly, one day, it all just clicked.

Everything was ready—except me.

Pacing the apartment frantically, I rubbed my swollen belly and willed the nerves to leave. Thousands of women gave birth every day, every hour. Surely, I could do this, too.

Is it normal to be having an anxiety attack every time I think about pushing this baby out?

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