Page 63 of Wall

She’s glaring at Charge and Grinder, who’ve ambled over from the leg press, as if she’s just noticing them.

“Back up. Give her some air.”

Cheyenne’s back with the water. She goes to hand it to Mona, and Mona stiffens, struggling to sit up. She still wants a piece of Cheyenne. I help her out, flip her so she’s sitting upright in my lap, but I keep an arm around her waist.

“Stay away.” She points at Cheyenne. “Stay the hell away from John, do you hear me?”

Cheyenne’s brow furrows. Now that she’s not in the moment, she’s smart enough to tread carefully. “Okay.” She eases back. “You want the water?”

Charge takes it from her and hands it to me. I unscrew the cap and press it into Mona’s hand. “Drink.”

She twists, craning her neck so she can see my face. Her nose is bright red and all scrunched up. “She wasn’t giving you a blowjob?” She kind of belatedly looks down at my gym shorts.

Oh. That’s what it looked like.

Shit. It’s past midnight. Who knows what she walked through to get down here. Forty said it was getting wild when he came down. I figured I’d get one more set of reps in and head out. I didn’t want to go back to an empty house.

Cheyenne raises her hands. “Hey. I don’t mess with no one else’s man.”

“Girl, you been stretching in front of Charge the whole time I been down here.” Grinder snorts. “And he’s Harper’s old man.”

Cheyenne can’t find anything to say to that. “I’m gonna go help Forty look for the dentist.”

Mona’s holding the water, not drinking. I tip it gently from the bottom, and give my boys the eye. They follow Cheyenne upstairs. When the door swings shut behind them, the fight seeps out of my woman. She slumps. I rearrange her so she’s sitting crossways on my lap. I need to see her face.

“I was working out. That’s all, baby.” If she don’t believe me…Well, I guess I’ll say it ‘til she does.

She reaches out and runs soft fingers along my jaw. “I hit you.”

“It didn’t hurt none.”

Her lips turn down, and she flexes her hand. “It hurt my hand.”

I grab it and kiss the knuckles. When Forty gets back, he’s gonna need to go for some ice.

“I’m sorry my face hurt your hand.”

She gives me a tiny smile. She still looks like hell. Pale, green, and her skin’s cold to the touch.

“What happened, baby? Were you freaked out when you couldn’t get me on the phone?”

“No.” The tears come in another flood.

I used to hate a woman crying, but being married to Mona, I got used to them. She’s just a weeper. She ain’t weak, it’s just what she needs to get her mouth goin’.

“Yes,” she manages to get out between sobs. “You always pick up. Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t have service? I was speeding, and I slid, and then I fell in the snow, and I threw up in a man’s hat.”

There it is. It’s all coming out. And what the fuck? That tin piece of shit is getting traded in for something with four-wheel drive tomorrow.

“Whose hat did you puke in?” Who was close enough to her in this condition and didn’t come get me immediately?

“Some kid. Prospect?”

That don’t narrow it down much. We got a bumper crop right now.

And then she kind of gags. Her throat works, and she mashes her lips together and closes her eyes. Oh, shit. She’s knocked up.

I stand, hoist her to my side, and haul her ass to the trashcan.

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