Page 52 of Meant to Be

The sonographer prints me a picture of him and then says, “The placenta is lying a little low, but in most cases, it moves around in time for the birth, but make an appointment for another scan. It’ll just be a review one for around thirty-six weeks, and we’ll know more then.”

Thanking her for everything, I make the next appointment after emptying my bladder and we leave.

We see Addison’s mum's car as she waits for her on the car park for her. Turning to Addy, I throw my arms around her neck hugging her. "Whoa, what's this for?" Addy questions hugging me back just as tightly.

"Thank you…for today."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world and plus I'm the nearest to an aunty that baby is going to get, so I get all the privileges."

"Yeah, I guess you are."

"I have to go, mum's waiting." She gives me another hug quickly, and with a wave, she heads over to her mum. Once I see her drive away, we head home.

When I go up to my room, the emotion of the day gets too much, and I bury my head in my pillow and cry. Knowing I’m having a boy makes me cry even more. I do what Anna taught me the last time, though, and just cry it all out.

“Shelby, can I come in?”

“Yeah…” Watching the door as it opens, Dad walks in, and he sits on the floor with me; wrapping me up in cuddles, he lets me cry. “I love you Dad.”

“I love you too pumpkin.” He picks up the scan picture and smiles. “Who would have thought I’d be a granddad at forty, huh?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses my forehead sweetly, making me break a bit more.

The time is flying by, and I can’t keep up. The only thing to focus on now is my exams and getting through those.

Chapter Seventeen

Jaxon

Three Months Later

I step over the steel of the prison gate. It bangs shut behind me making me jump, there’s a taxi waiting for me to take me to my new place. I'm on my own again, back in the big wide world. I look back over my shoulder realising I’m free and smile.

I don’t waste any time in walking towards the taxi and making sure he’s got my name right.

“Cartwright mate?”

“Yep, jump in pal.” I put my carrier bag with my few belongings in on the back seat and give him the address to the parole office. Once he’s put the address in his Sat Nav, we head off. Opening up the back window and feeling the breeze on my face, I start to enjoy the little luxuries that I haven’t had for the last seven months.

Once I’ve met with my parole officer, he gives me some keys to a hostel. Well, it's like a halfway house for ex-cons... yep, I now have a label to put with all the rest of my shit.

My rehabilitation, while I was in prison, was to be clean, which was part of the reason that I got out a little earlier than I should have done. They decided that with my addictive personality I shouldn’t drink at all - which I agree with entirely. I also learnt an engineering skill, which I didn’t have before and the parole officer is going to sort out a job for me. It’s unpaid until my parole is through, which is the rest of my full sentence. I can handle that, the only thing I don’t like is this poxy electronic tag hanging from my ankle like a huge piece of ugly jewellery.

About a month ago I found out my mum died from cirrhosis of the liver - caused by drinking for all these years. They allowed me to go to the funeral, but I chose not to. Call me a bad person all you want, all she did over the years was abuse me. Not once did she make sure I was okay. I’ve decided to also cut myself off from all my family - other than Harry. The rest can rot in hell.

“So Jaxon, are you ready to see your new home?” The officer pulls me from out of my head.

“I can hardly wait,” I answer dryly.

Sniggering, the parole officer opens the car. Once we’re in, he takes us to the address of the halfway house.

Standing in the doorway, my eyes flit around the room. My lip curling up in disgust. I don't know what was worse, staying at home with my drunk of a mother or this. The room is practically bare for all but a bed, a set of drawers, a small fridge and a microwave. The sheets don't look like they've been washed either.

Ugh, I think I preferred prison to this shithole.

“Will you be okay here?”

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