Read Online In Dark Woods (Signal Bend Series #4.5) by Susan Fanetti - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Fanetti
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were alone, Isaac reached out and put a gloved hand on her knee. Feeling desperate and angry, she glared down at it. “Lilli, the financial situation is the same, so the problem is the same.”
He had some limited feeling, and some reflexive response, in both feet. Even Kendrick, who was usually reluctant to offer much hope, had been encouraged by the development. He wanted Isaac to check into rehab immediately for intensive therapy. He now thought there was a chance, slim but measurable, that Isaac could someday walk again. With intensive therapy.
But Isaac wouldn’t go back to the center. He said they couldn’t afford it. He was right, but Lilli could not have cared less.
“No. The problem is totally different. There’s a legitimate chance that you could walk. Isaac, hear me when I tell you that I will not bring you home. I will not. You have to check in. You have to. You can’t turn your back on this chance.”
“Please, Sport. You hear me . There’s more to think about than this. We can’t make a decision about our whole family’s future based just on my legs. We have to—”
“—Isaac, I’m pregnant.” She hadn’t yet found the time or the way to tell him; she guessed now worked as well as any.
His face went completely blank, like she’d uttered that sentence in Farsi rather than English. “What?”
“I’m pregnant. About ten weeks, I guess, the way the doctor will time it.”
His brows drew together. “Ten weeks? What? How?”
“That night at the center. Our anniversary.”
“That wasn’t ten weeks ago, Sport.” There was a dark rumble in his voice. Jesus—he was—Jesus.
“No, Isaac. The doctor will count the weeks from my last period. It happened on our anniversary. That’s the only time it could have. I haven’t been fucking anybody else, and fuck you for even thinking it.”
The smile that moved up his face was real and wholehearted, and he took her hand. “We made a baby that night?”
Considering that he was much calmer about the news than she’d anticipated, she decided not to hold that brief doubt against him. “Yep.”
But then his smile faded. “Wait. You can’t—you can’t be pregnant. You can’t have a baby. No.”
“Yeah, I can. I am. We are. We will. We’ll take care. I’ll take care, and it’ll be fine. But it would be cool if you could get back on your feet and help me out with everything. If that’s possible, it would be cool.”
Again he shook his head. She wanted to beat him, but she didn’t suppose it was good form to slug a guy in a wheelchair. Even an obstreperous, vexatious, infuriating guy.
“Isaac, don’t start your shit. I’m pregnant. That fight is over. It’s done. We’re having another baby.”
“I can’t lose you, Lilli. Jesus, don’t you see that?”
“You won’t. Dr. Andrews told us that there are precautions. They’ll monitor things, and I’ll have a C-section, and we’ll bring a baby sibling home for Gia to terrorize.” She smiled, thinking of their precocious, willful daughter. “Pip will appreciate the break.”
Isaac was quiet, staring at their linked hands. Lilli watched him, trying to follow his thoughts as they moved over his face. She saw the ghost of a smile. Finally, he looked up at her again. “We need to be careful with money even more than ever, then, Sport.”
Oh, Jesus. He really needed a slap. But Lilli took a breath, found patience, and spoke calmly, trying reason and logic out. “The wine bar is starting to turn a little bit of a profit. The B&B is moving into its busiest season, and Shannon has weddings booked now through fall. We still have some savings left, too. We’ll be okay. If we need to, we can mortgage the house.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she put her hand up. She was going to win this fucking battle. “Fight, Isaac. Fight. Please. You can’t give this chance away. Not over money. Fuck, not over that.”
Neither of them said more. The minutes ticked by.
Dr.
He had some limited feeling, and some reflexive response, in both feet. Even Kendrick, who was usually reluctant to offer much hope, had been encouraged by the development. He wanted Isaac to check into rehab immediately for intensive therapy. He now thought there was a chance, slim but measurable, that Isaac could someday walk again. With intensive therapy.
But Isaac wouldn’t go back to the center. He said they couldn’t afford it. He was right, but Lilli could not have cared less.
“No. The problem is totally different. There’s a legitimate chance that you could walk. Isaac, hear me when I tell you that I will not bring you home. I will not. You have to check in. You have to. You can’t turn your back on this chance.”
“Please, Sport. You hear me . There’s more to think about than this. We can’t make a decision about our whole family’s future based just on my legs. We have to—”
“—Isaac, I’m pregnant.” She hadn’t yet found the time or the way to tell him; she guessed now worked as well as any.
His face went completely blank, like she’d uttered that sentence in Farsi rather than English. “What?”
“I’m pregnant. About ten weeks, I guess, the way the doctor will time it.”
His brows drew together. “Ten weeks? What? How?”
“That night at the center. Our anniversary.”
“That wasn’t ten weeks ago, Sport.” There was a dark rumble in his voice. Jesus—he was—Jesus.
“No, Isaac. The doctor will count the weeks from my last period. It happened on our anniversary. That’s the only time it could have. I haven’t been fucking anybody else, and fuck you for even thinking it.”
The smile that moved up his face was real and wholehearted, and he took her hand. “We made a baby that night?”
Considering that he was much calmer about the news than she’d anticipated, she decided not to hold that brief doubt against him. “Yep.”
But then his smile faded. “Wait. You can’t—you can’t be pregnant. You can’t have a baby. No.”
“Yeah, I can. I am. We are. We will. We’ll take care. I’ll take care, and it’ll be fine. But it would be cool if you could get back on your feet and help me out with everything. If that’s possible, it would be cool.”
Again he shook his head. She wanted to beat him, but she didn’t suppose it was good form to slug a guy in a wheelchair. Even an obstreperous, vexatious, infuriating guy.
“Isaac, don’t start your shit. I’m pregnant. That fight is over. It’s done. We’re having another baby.”
“I can’t lose you, Lilli. Jesus, don’t you see that?”
“You won’t. Dr. Andrews told us that there are precautions. They’ll monitor things, and I’ll have a C-section, and we’ll bring a baby sibling home for Gia to terrorize.” She smiled, thinking of their precocious, willful daughter. “Pip will appreciate the break.”
Isaac was quiet, staring at their linked hands. Lilli watched him, trying to follow his thoughts as they moved over his face. She saw the ghost of a smile. Finally, he looked up at her again. “We need to be careful with money even more than ever, then, Sport.”
Oh, Jesus. He really needed a slap. But Lilli took a breath, found patience, and spoke calmly, trying reason and logic out. “The wine bar is starting to turn a little bit of a profit. The B&B is moving into its busiest season, and Shannon has weddings booked now through fall. We still have some savings left, too. We’ll be okay. If we need to, we can mortgage the house.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she put her hand up. She was going to win this fucking battle. “Fight, Isaac. Fight. Please. You can’t give this chance away. Not over money. Fuck, not over that.”
Neither of them said more. The minutes ticked by.
Dr.
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