After: I'm Not Leaving Without Ashley


Nick

I have broken down exactly three doors in my lifetime.

The first was on tour with the Backstreet Boys in 1999, on a bus somewhere in Nebraska while playing football with AJ, which Kevin had told us repeatedly not to do on the buses. AJ threw the ball and I was going long and I tripped over a Nintendo controller I'd left laying on the floor and I smashed backwards through the bathroom door and ended up flat on my back in the bathroom, the door in splinters from my fat ass having crashed through it.

The second door was the door to my attic in 2002, when I'd gone up there to get my weed, which I stashed in a hole in a rafter, and I'd managed to lock myself up there. I'd spent about fifteen minutes trying to jimmy the lock with a coat hanger before I let out a battle cry like I was Mel Gibson in Bravehart and charged at it from the top of the stairs. I managed to not only break the door, but also sprained my ankle as I missed the last couple steps and more fell through the door than anything else.

The third door was Ashley's apartment door.

I charged through the broken pieces of the door, seized Chris by the back of his neck and slammed him into the wall so hard the wind was knocked out of him. Ashley was crouched in the corner, I could hear her crying. I punched the wall beside Chris's head. "Get your fucking hands off of her," I bellowed. I have never been so charged with anger and adrenaline as I was at that moment.

Chris blinked my spittle out of his eyes and tried to catch his breath. He clearly had not been expecting my arrival. His eye twitched.

I stepped back and turned to Ashley. She had a bloody nose, her lip was swollen, and there were dark spots on her arm that would develop into bruises. "Holy shit," I whispered. I knelt beside her, "Are you okay?"

She looked up at me, there was some blood in her mouth, discoloring her lower teeth, her eyes were slightly unfoucused, she sobbed, "I made a mistake," she cried.

I heard Chris behind me, moving, and I turned just as he sprang towards me, trying to catch me off guard. But instead, I blocked him, deflected him, and his own speed worked in my advantage. He fell to the side. I stood quickly, pulling him up by the coller of his shirt, and I shouted, "You piece of god damn shit!" I pushed him into the wall by the kitchen, his head hit a shelf and like twelve little Precious Moments figurines hit the floor, their heads rolling in various directions. Their bodies crunched under our feet. "I fucking gave her away to you and you break her?!" I slammed him again, his head again hitting the shelf. "You fucking coward!!! You were supposed to take care of her!"

Chris struggled out of my grasp, spun so he was facing me a few feet away, panting. He glowered at me. "This is not any of your fucking business. This is between me and my wife."

"She's not your wife anymore," I snarled.

"Leave," he growled.

I shook my head, "I'm not leaving without Ashley."

Chris charged at me.




Ashley

My stomach hurt. I let out a gasp, but I don't think either of the boys heard me. Things were breaking all over the apartment, they were like two bulls in a China shop. Things were crashing all around.

"Nick!" I yelled.

He didn't hear me.

My eyes were blurry. I couldn't quite tell where they were. They were just thumping noisy giants to me from where I lay. I spit out the blood in my mouth and clutched my stomach. "Oh Jesus," I groaned. "Nick! Chris!" One of them had to respond. I reached for the table top, my hands shaking. I pulled myself to my feet unsteadily. "Nick!" I screamed.

He dropped his fists.

Nick was suddenly at my side, Chris was spitting and puffing across the room. Nick wrappd his arms around me, holding me up. "What's the matter? I'm here, right here."

As he asked the words, my water broke.

All over his feet.

I looked up at him.

"I think I'm having the baby," I said.

Before: Being Pregnant Sucks


Nick


I grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler as I swung past it on my way to the last costume change. The fans were all screaming, thundering, making the poles that held the stage up vibrate. I unscrewed the cap and poured the water over my head, shaking like a dog so my hair pinged water in every direction.

"Jesus Nick," Kevin snapped. "I don't need a shower."

Howie sniffed the air, "Actually I think all five of us need one, but that's okay."

"GoodLordTheyreLoudTonightAren'tTheyLoudTonightItsCrazyHowLoudTonightTheyAreIsntItCrazy?" Brian bounced by.

Kevin looked like he was remembering why he quit.

AJ pulled his shirt off and threw it at my face.

I caught it and threw it back. "Gross," I said, "You almost got your arm pit sweat in my mouth."

"Then we'd be sweat brothers," AJ snorted.

Kevin was methodically changing from one outfit to the other.

"I'm fucking exhausted," I complained, sitting down.

"Aren't you going to change?" Howie asked, throwing my clothes at me.

I held them in a ball on my lap.

"IsItSeriouslyJustMeOrAreTheySuperSuperLoudTonight?" Brian spazzed.

"Brother needs some riddalin," AJ said, thumbing at Brian.

Kevin eyed me, "You okay there, cubby?" he asked me, seeing I still hadn't started undressing.

"Yeah," I answered.

"You sure?"

I nodded.

"You've been quiet all night," Kevin commented.

I shrugged. Then I stood up and started changing.

AJ swung his arm around my shoulder on the way back out to the stage a minute later. He waited until the other three guys were a couple paces ahead of me, then he said, "It's her birthday."

I nodded.

"You ain't called her?"

I shook my head.

AJ sighed.

"Do you think I should?"

He thought about it for a few minutes. "I don't know dude. Do you want to?"

I nodded.

AJ shrugged, "Then do it."

"Maybe."

"For now, let's go finish this show, ey?" he grinned, then slapped his hand against the center of my back, "I'm really fucking glad we're on tour again, I missed this. I missed the smell of the stage lights." He galloped ahead of me.

"Yeah," I said to his retreating back. I sighed. But I hadn't missed it as much as I thought.




Ashley

I was stuck on the couch.

My stomach felt like I'd swallowed a beach ball. I waved my arms and legs, feeling ridiculously like a turtle that had flipped over on the beach. But my stomach just wasn't bending to let me get up. I slid forward, carefully pushing my ass right to the edge of the couch and grabbed onto the arm of it, struggling to get up to my feet. It took seriously about fifteen minutes for me to go from sitting down to standing up. I had literally broken a sweat. And by the time I was up, I almost couldn't remember why I'd wanted to get up in the first place.

It didn't help that it was about a million degrees outside and the fucking air conditioner was broke in the apartment. I'd asked Chris about a thousand times to call someone to have it looked at, but he still hadn't yet. Instead, he preferred to come home from work late and bitch that the apartment was hot when I asked why he didn't come home earlier to be with me.

I waddled slowly to the kitchen, my hands on my back for support.

It sucks being a human whale.

Being pregnant sucks.

I stood in the kitchen, winded from walking all the hell the way out there from the couch, and leaned against the counter top, breathing deep.

I was so huge that our doctor had tested me like fifteen times to make sure I wasn't carrying multiples. But every time he checked, it was just excess water weight. I felt like I was carrying octuplets like that lady on TV.

I struggled to squat down to get a pan out of the cupboard, and pulled myself back up right, grunting like I was trying to foist a baby elephant. I put the pan on the stove and waddled to the cupboard to get the stuff to make Chris's dinner because he'd texted me like a half an hour before and asked that it be ready when he got home after going out drinking with the guys from work.

I rubbed the small of my back while a steak cooked on the stove top - five minutes on each side - and potatoes baked in the microwave. My spine ached like crazy. I sighed and waddled to the stool in the corner, lowering myself onto it with a heavy sigh. "Oh my God," I muttered, closing my eyes and leaning against the counter.

I remembered being nimble and skinny and looking good in clothing. Now, I pretty much had to wear sweatpants all the fucking time because that's all that would fit me. Chris didn't like that. He made comments all the time about my sweatpants and me looking ugly. I felt like shit and his comments didn't help. The only thing he didn't have any negative comments about were my boobs which were all swollen up like crazy and barely stayed in any of my shirts except my Journey shirt that I'd stolen from Nick so long ago that even Chris didn't know where it came from originally...

Nick.

The name was red hot in my mind. I'd heard that the Backstreet Boys were on tour, that Nick was out there on stage killin' it, that people were generally accepting of his scar. I hoped that he was happy and successful. But I hadn't seen him since the wedding, when he'd taken my hand and put it into Chris's and then run out the door.

The last image I had of Nick was him kneeling in the foyer of the church, literally begging me not to marry Chris.

I wished so much I had listened to him.

I wished I could call him to tell him that.

I'd do anything to turn back time and just change everything.

I closed my eyes and thought about the night when Nick and I drove to the Nevada state line, about that moment when Chris had texted me I found the pregnancy test earlier and I cant wait any longer did you take it yet? and everything that I'd wanted had taken a backseat because I'd realized I wasn't making choices for just me anymore.

Suddenly the fire alarm was going off and I looked up and realized that I'd forgotten to flip Chris's steak and it was smoking like crazy. I struggled to my feet and quickly waddled over, stabbed a fork into it and flipped it, revealing a heavily burned underside. "Fuck," I swore. I grabbed a hand towel and waddled to the fire alarm, waving the towel at it like crazy, trying to get the thing to shut the hell up. Meanwhile, the phone started ringing on the wall. "Oh my God! Are you fucking kidding me!?" I shouted. Still waving the towel, I grabbed the phone, "ONE SECOND HANG ON," I yelled into it, over the shrill wheeeeeeeet, wheeeeeeeeeeeeet, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeet of the alarm. I threw the phone onto the counter, waving the towel even more vigorously.

When it had finally shut the hell up, I sighed in relief. I grabbed the phone off the counter. "Hello?" I said into it, carrying it as I waddled back to Chris's steak.

"Ashley?"

I blinked in surprise. No way in hell was that him. No way in hell. I'd just been thinking about him.

"Ashleyyyy?" he called, "It's me, Nick."

"Nick," I said his name, breathless. Whether from all the waddling back and forth I'd just done or from sheer surprise to hear his voice again, I'm not sure. Probably both.

"Happy Birthday," he said.

It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me. And I started to cry. Because, you know, that's what you do when you're pregnant.

Before: Team Nick's Scar


Ashley

"Happy Birthday."

My tears were hot on my face, streaking across my cheeks. "Thank you," I whimpered.

He was quiet a second. "Are you crying?"

"Yeah but I'm okay," I replied, choking out the words.

"What's wrong?"

I drew a deep breath, trying to level my voice, "You just called me and said happy birthday to me, that's so nice," I gasped.

Nick sounded confused, "What?"

"I'm pregnant Nick," I said by way of explanation, "I cried over a commercial for Skype yesterday, okay? I cry easy and you called me and I cried because you called me and I miss you and I was just thinking about you and how your old Journey shirt is the only shirt that doesn't make me feel like a fat hooker."

Nick's voice was low, "Oookay..." he said.

"You're touring," I said, changing the topic and swiping my tears away with my balled fist. I pulled Chris's steak off the pan with the fork, being careful to put the burned side down on the plate so he wouldn't see it. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice it. I waddled, carrying the plate, and pulled the potatos out of the microwave oven, glancing at the clock. He would be home any moment. I shoved a bowl of frozen peas into the microwave and started those up.

"Yeah we've been touring a few months," Nick replied.

"How is it going?" I asked.

"Eh."

"Only eh?"

Nick sighed, "I dunno. It's just... I don't know how to explain it."

"Try?"

Nick was quiet a moment, then... "So like today, I was on the tour bus and we were parked out back the venue, you know, and I heard these fans outside by the fences and I went out and these girls had like painted their face with like this make up so like they had my scar and they had these t shirts on that were like always handsome to us. I think they were trying to like, I dunno, be supportive or something, but... I dunno. It was weird."

I tried to put myself in his shoes, pictured how that would feel, which obviously was something those fans had not done. I got where they were coming from, as Nick evidently had, too, but it still... "I'm sorry, Nick," I said.

"It's like that's all anyone can talk about to me," he said, "My fucking scar, the fucking crash. Nobody wants to talk about like anything else."

"What do you wanna talk about?"

He was silent. "I don't know, I guess there's nothing I want to talk about. Which is why this is a problem, see, because all they wanna do is talk to me, all these reporters and shit." He sighed heavily, "I'm just tired. I'm tired of being in a spotlight, I just wanna be left alone."

"I don't blame you."

I heard Chris's keys at the door locks and I pulled the peas out of the microwave, dumped a bunch of them onto the plate, and shoved the whole plate into the microwave, hitting the thirty second warm button. "Hey I gotta go," I said.

"What?"

"I gotta hang up, call me tomorrow, okay? I wanna talk to you again. Around ten my time. Bye." I hung up and threw the phone across the counter quickly, only just in time, as Chris came into the room.

"Why the fuck does it smell like smoke in here?" he demanded. He threw his jacket over the back of the chair nearest to him.

"I burned something earlier," I said nonchalantly.

Chris rolled his eyes. "You need to be more careful."

"I was stuck in the couch," I said, thinking this might make him laugh.

"Yeah because you're fat," he said.

He didn't laugh.

"Yeah exactly," I said, laughing myself a little. But he still didn't laugh or smile or anything so I stopped and popped the microwave open, taking out his plate. I put it down on the table and he sat down, surveying the food. I waddled to the cupboard for a cup, "What do you want to drink, baby?" I asked.

"I don't know, do we have beer?"

"I think there's bottles of my Molson left from before," I said, "But I haven't gone shopping this week."

"Why the fuck not?"

"Because I all but need a crane to lift me out of here?" I joked. "I need help to go shopping, babe, if you haven't noticed I can barely walk across the kitchen not to mention push a heavy cart around a grocery store.

"Of course, I gotta do everything..." he muttered.

"So... Molson?" I asked.

"Whatever."

I squatted to get the Molson out of one of the crisper drawers in the bottom of the fridge as he pulled a drawer out and got a fork and knife. He cut the steak and sniffed it. "It's really over done," he commented. He stuffed the piece into his mouth and chewed.

I got back up and put the Molson down in front of him. "Sorry," I said, "The phone rang while I was cooking, I might've over done one side a bit."

He spit the piece out into his napkin. "Christ, it's like chewing rubber." He stood up and slammed the plate into the kitchen sink, "I'm not hungry anyway." He grabbed the beer from the table and stormed out of the room. "Why the fuck is it so hot in here? Jesus!"

I stood in the kitchen, closed my eyes and leaned against the counter, counting to ten. "Because you didn't call about the air conditioner, that's why it's hot in here."

"Fucking A, you'd think we were god damn rotisserie chickens," he complained.

I sighed.

Chris hadn't even said thank you, much less anything about it being my birthday.




Nick

I laid on the bus that night, staring up at the ceiling of my bunk, listening to the wheels on the cement below, thinking about Ashley. It'd been a long six months of doing nothing but thinking of her, every night I dreamt of her, dreamt of that ride to Nevada and back, dreamt it turned out differently. I'd analyzed every moment that I'd spent with her last year, thought how I could've done it differently, seen every opportunity I'd had and wasted to tell her that I loved her before it was too late. I hated myself for every moment that I had that could've been used to say it.

Maybe I hadn't learned anything in the plane crash after all. Maybe all I'd walked away from that plane with was the fear of flying and a scar to remind me of that hellish night.

A scar for which every person on the planet seemed to want an answer.

I ran my fingers across my face, along the length of the jagged skin that slashed across my left cheek bone from my eye to my jaw, dragging down the corner of my lip so that I looked perpetually like I was going hmmm on one side. I hated the way it puckered and pulled, the way it felt smoother than the rest of my skin, the way it looked brighter pinkish silver, never fading.

I hated that it bothered me.

The thing was that with Ashley I'd always found it easy to forget that I was permanently disfigured by that crash. She'd only once looked freaked out by it and that was the first time she saw it. A year ago almost exactly, I thought, when I'd brought her out for coffee. The day I'd found out she was engaged. She alone was capable of looking past the scar and making me feel like I was whole again.

Everyone else... well. Not so much.

Especially not the fans. The fans were so damn busy trying to be supportive of me and my scar that I found myself being constantly reminded of it, constantly being faced with pictures of me then and me now and hashtags on Twitter going global declaring stuff like DontH8OnNicksScar and NickCarterSupport or whatever. I had yet to see Team Nick's Scar but I was sure it existed, just like I'd jokingly said once.

I just never felt good enough anymore.

I propped my hands behind my head and sighed, wishing for so many things to be different than they were. My scar. Ashley being married to Chris. Me not wanting to be on tour, really.

I hoped that things would get easier. I could really use easier.

But that was so the opposite of what was coming.

Before: I'm Happy You Called


Nick

I was standing on the curb out front of a gas station. The buses were filling up and I had just bought a pack of cigarettes. I kicked a rock with my toe and watched as veryone ran around filling up the tour buses then rolling them across the street to a Walmart parking lot while the next one in the caravan filled up. Every muscle in my body ached. Usually I loved this feeling, this mid-tour burn used to be a high to me and now it just made me feel old. I took a long drag off my cigarette.

Kevin walked over from the convience store, carrying a bag and unwrapping what looked like a granola bar. He came to a stop beside me and took a bite of it, looking around in silence. He chewed slower than he talks and inspected the contents of his bag, then looked up at me. His mouth slightly pursed, his eyebrow raised.

"I ain't puttin' it out if that's what you're trying to say with your face lookin' like that," I said.

Kevin's cheek twitched.

"I don't give a shit how much cancer it could give me," I added.

Kevin made a sniffing noise with his nose, then yawned and turned away, going back to looking around. He squinted up and down the street.

I took another drag off my cigarette just to really rub it in that I was gonna smoke up all the cancer I could and blew the air out real nice and slow.

"You aren't enjoying this tour," he said. He sounded like when they humanize God in the movies, you know, like he should've been Morgan Freeman or something standing there beside me dressed in all white with a photoshopped halo hanging over his head.

I shrugged.

Kevin took a deep breath, "I ain't asking the question, Nick, I'm telling you the answer."

I stared at him for a moment. "I'll get used to it," I answered, shrugging, "It'll come back to me just like it came back for you. I just gotta get used to it."

Kevin shook his head, "It was instantaneous for me," he said. "I stood on the stage and I just knew it was time. I needed it like I need oxygen." He looked at my cigarette again pointedly when he said need oxygen. I looked at my cigarette. It was almost spent anyways, but I threw it to the ground and rubbed it out with my foot. "Thank you," he said.

"I like the part about being around you guys again," I said, "You and Brian and Howie and AJ -- but I dunno man."

"It's not like it was before," Kevin said, nodding. "I get it. I've been there. You remember when I left. You remember how I felt on the Never Gone tour. It was just like the magic had stopped."

I nodded.

"You need a break, kid," he said, laying a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"We just took a year off," I said, "And we'd been off almost a year before that, even..."

Kevin took a deep breath, "Nick, I'm not gonna tell you what to do... I'm not your father... I'm not the boss of you, as you used to like to remind me every day when you were a kid..."

I laughed.

"...but I'm gonna tell you right now that you ain't happy and you ain't gonna be happy if you don't change things."

"There's nothing really to go home to," I said quietly, "That's the only reason I ain't gone home yet. When you quit, you had a family to go home to."

Kevin studied me for a long moment.

"If I had something to go home to, it would be different," I said.

"Then maybe you need to think about investing some time into finding someone and settling down," he said.

"I only will ever love one woman, Kevin, you know that. And she didn't pick me."

Kevin squinted at the sun. "You know Brian's getting a divorce?" he asked.

I blinked in surprise, "What?" I said.

"I didn't think you knew. Did you even know they separated?"

Brian had been spending a lot of time in Los Angeles, but I hadn't been spending a lot of time with him, so I didn't really notice. I just figured Leighanne and Baylee were with him and that he was in LA for the work on the album, for all the contracts and the recording sessions and the meetings. I remembered him being supremely cranky the year before, around Christmas and New Years, but I couldn't ever remember the D word coming up.

"When?" I asked.

Kevin thought about it, "I dunno, maybe last September? He didn't even go back for Christmas, he had Baylee in Kentucky."

It explained a lot about Brian's hyperactivity. When Brian was upset, he got hyperactive. I sighed, I felt bad for him. I wondered what happened, and why I was such a shitty, self-involved friend that I hadn't noticed. It'd been a long time since Brian and I had called ourselves best friends, after drifting apart we'd sort of settled into friendships with other people. I called AJ or Howie before I called Brian. Brian tended to call Kevin. We very rarely, if ever, called each other for advice or anything. It was sad, but it's what happens, I guess, when people grow up and change.

We'd both grown up and changed, just differently.

Kevin balled up the wrapper to his granola bar and put it in his bag. "Anyways my point is that he's been seeing someone."

I raised my eyebrow. "Like seeing someone like dating someone or seeing someone like R.L. Stein is my therapist seeing someone?"

"As in dating," Kevin said.

I couldn't picture Brian dating. It'd been so fucking long since he dated that I wondered how horrible he was at it. I pictured him being awkward and scaring away women with that hyperactive streak.

"He said the exact words you just said to me when I suggsested he find someone new," Kevin said, "That's my point." He turned and walked away, leaving me alone on the curb again.

Well Brian could date every woman in America if he wanted to, I thought, but there really was only one woman for me.

I looked at my watch. Speaking of...




Ashley

I was sitting at the kitchen table, the only chair in the house that I could get in and out of somewhat easily, the phone on the table in front of me, waiting. I stared at the clock on the microwave, glowing in green digital letters. 9:59. I looked at the phone, counting down the minute. 57...56...55...54...

The apartment was hotter than hades. I had a fan blowing on the counter, oscillating back and forth, but I still felt like every pore in my body was a swimming pool.

32...31...30...29...28...

I wondered if Nick would call. If he'd forget. He was forgetful. Especially on tour. He was just so busy. And really, why would he remember to call me? Probably he only remembered to call on my birthday because he had like a phone alarm set or something like that. I rubbed my hands on the knees of my sweatpants.

5...4...3...2...

The clock on the microwave clicked over: 10:00. I looked at the phone, willing it to ring, eyeing it, waiting. But it didn't. I felt ridiculously let down.

You said around ten, I reminded myself, And just because you're sitting on top of the clock waiting for it to tick over doesn't mean he is.

I struggled to my feet, using the table top to help push me up, and waddled to the cupboard and got a row of saltines out. I waddled back to the table and sat back down and opened the package and stuck a cracker in my mouth. My stomach was threatening to throw me into the bouts of morning sickness. I closed my eyes and wished I'd turrned out the overhead light.

The phone rang.

I scrambled for it, knocking my package of saltines onto the floor. Crackers went everywhere. "Shit," I said. I grabbed up the phone and answered it, "Hello!?"

"Hey Ashley."

It was him. Oh thank God it was him, he remembered to call me!

"Oh hey Nick, wow is it ten already? Morning flew by! How are you?" I looked at the crackers all over the floor.

"I'm okay, a little tired. Sorry I'm a little late calling you, you're a couple hours behind me and I was talking to Kevin..."

I slid to the edge of my seat, lowering myself to my knees on the floor carefully, and used my one free hand to swipe the crackers into a pile, trying to get even the ones that had sailed under the stove. Some of those would just plain be casualties, I thought.

"Hey, did you know Brian was leaving Leighanne?" he asked.

"Well they separated like two years ago," I said.

"Damn," Nick muttered, "I had no idea."

"You weren't exactly -uhm- involved with Brian at that point," I said. "It was like strictly work and that's it."

"He's dating," Nick said pointedly.

I laughed, "I bet you could sell tickets to that spectator sport," I said. I sat on my feet because now I was stuck on the kitchen floor.

"It must be so awkward," Nick said.

"Maybe you should give him some pointers," I said. I paused, "Just suggest to him that he tell the girl he loves her before she's at the alter."

It was too soon to make such jokes. I don't know why I said it. I closed my eyes, regretting bringing it up before even the awkward silence that followed it had struck.

"Kevin thinks I should find someone too," he said.

I felt a shoot of jealousy, or pain, or something run through me. I wanted to throw something at Kevin, wanted to scream at Nick don't do it. But what right did I have to either of those feelings when I had not only had a chance with Nick but had looked at him, down on his knees in front of me literally begging me to pick him instead, and still married Chris? I didn't have any right at all, that's what right I had.

"Hey Ashley?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"Who am I?"

"What?"

"Outside of being a Backstreet Boy, I mean," he said, "Like, I have an identity besides Nick Carter, Backstreet Boy, right?"

"Of course you do," I said, "What kind of question is that?"

He was quiet a moment. "Kevin thinks I should quit."

"Quit the band?" I asked, surprised.

Nick was quiet a moment, I had a feeling he nodded forgetting I couldn't see him, then, "Yeah-uh," he said.

I tried to picture Nick not a Backstreet Boy.

"What would you do?" I asked him.

"I dunno," he replied. "I mean, like I told Kevin, it'd be different if I had someone at home to come home to, or whatever, but... I'm just alone, and it sucks being home alone."

I looked around the apartment. "I know the feeling," I said.

"Where's Chris?" Nick asked.

"Work," I replied.

He was quiet a moment. "You're on summer vacation from work, huh?"

I hesitated. "Well, I kind of put in my resignation after this year..."

"What? Why? You love your job."

"Well I'm gonna be a mother, I mean it's cheaper than daycare and it's not like my job was really like... I dunno. I wasn't getting paid as much as Chris and... it's just better that I'm home..."

Nick was quiet a long moment. "So you're home alone all day."

"Yeah," I said.

"Pregnant. Alone all day."

"Yeah."

"Wow," he said. I could hear disapproval in his voice.

"Well I mean Chris works really hard," I defended him automatically. "It's just lonely when the only other person you see is your gyno," I said.

Nick was quiet again. I could hear him breathing. Then I heard a shout in the background and Nick answered whoever was shouting, "I'm coming." Then he said to me, "I gotta get going, we were gasing up the buses."

"Where you headed?" I asked.

"North Carolina. We're in Pennsylvania right now."

"Swinging South, huh?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "Hey, if you need anything you give me a call okay? I might not be in LA but I can call Rochelle or someone to swing by and help you out."

I smiled. It was the most anyone had offered to do for me in awhile. I felt teary eyed. "Thank you," I said sincerely.

"I'll call you," he said simply.

"Okay," I replied. "When?"

He thought for a moment. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Okay!" It came out more excited than I'd meant for it to and I felt silly.

"Okay," Nick agreed. I could tell he was about to hang up, and then he hesitated, and he asked, "Ashley, are you happy?"

I thought about it. "I'm happy you called," I answered.

After: Get Me To The Damn Hospital


Ashley

I have never, in my life, ever felt anything like the pain that ripped through my stomach about thirty seconds after my water broke all over Nick's sneakers. I let out a shriek of pain and almost doubled over. If Nick hadn't been standing there to catch me and keep me up, I probably would've fallen to the floor. "Oh holy mother of God!" I cried.

"Okay, let's get you to the hospital," Nick said. He put his arms around me.

"Excuse me, I believe that is my job," Chris snapped, coming over.

"KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF HER," Nick bellowed. I heard Chris stop short halfway across the room. "This is not YOUR job," he snarled, quieter, "You gave this job up the moment you laid your hands on her the first time. Don't you dare." Nick guided me carefully toward the door. I shuffled, staring down at our feet, at his soaked sneakers, at my soaked slippers and ruined sweatpants.

"It's my kid," Chris snapped. "I have a right as the god damn father to be there."

"You have a right to shut the hell up and stay the fuck away from them both," Nick replied.

He got to the door and I realized there was no door. "Where's my door?" I asked.

Then I stepped on a piece of it on the floor.

"It's not like he was gonna let me in," Nick said sheepishly.

"You broke my door?"

"He broke OUR door!!" Chris yelled.

"ITS NOT YOUR FUCKING DOOR!" Nick yelled back.

"STOP YELLING!" I yelled as another pain wrecked through my abdomen. I clutched the door frame and bared my teeth in a silent scream. Again, if Nick hadn't been right there to catch me, I would've ended up on the floor. "Fuck! FUCK!" I sobbed.

Nick looked at me, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, how can I help?" he begged.

"Just take me to the hospital!"

Nick took my hand, carefully wrapping his arm around me for support, and I pressed a firm hand to the small of my back to brace myself and waddled out into the hallway. Chris followed us, leaving the lights on in the apartment.

We got to the stairs and I'd never seen a challenge so great. I let out a choked sob just looking at them. Nick moved around to the front of me, two steps below, looking up at me. "C'mon baby," he said, "One step at a time, we got this."

I looked into his eyes.

I felt Chris at my side, "Here I'll help you," he said.

"Don't touch me!" I snapped.

"What the fuck," Chris snapped, "I'm your husband."

"You're an asshole," I said.

Nick had both my hands in his, he squeezed tightly. "C'mon," he said, "Lean on me, come down a step."

I took a step and almost fell forward. "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus," I cried.

"Fuck this shit," Chris said. The next thing I knew I was airborne. Chris had picked me up around the middle and lifted me about three inches off the ground. I kicked my legs and let out a cry like a pissed off animal.

"Get off me, get off me, get off me!" I shrieked as he quickly thundered down the steps. I waved my arms, "Nick!!"

Nick thundered after us. "Put her down! PUT HER DOWN!" he was yelling, but Chris took all the flights of stairs hoisting me until he got down to the foyer. He whipped open the door, and tugged me out it, me stumbling along after him. Nick ran up behind us and I struggled out of Chris's grasp and grabbed onto Nick, my heart pounding.

Nick stood between me and Chris. I dug my fingers into his arm. "You maniac, you could've hurt her."

"She needed to get down the stairs," Chris snarled. "I fucking helped her get down the stairs."

"Please," I cried, yet another pain ripping through me, "Please can we get me to the damn hospital now?"




Nick

Ashley rolled into the backseat of my car. She clutched my arm, "Don't go," she begged as I attempted to crawl back out to drive to the hospital. "Please don't go."

"But I gotta drive, baby," I said.

Chris cleared his throat.

I took my keys out of my pocket and threw them at his face. He scrambled to catch them. "Make yourself useful," I said. I crawled back in, propping Ashley against my chest, my leg up behind her on the seat, my back to the door. I wrapped my arm around her and she clutched onto me like my arm was the bar on a roller coaster. She was somewhere between crying and panting, her nails digging into my skin.

Chris climbed into the front seat and turned the ignition, pulled out of the space and began our journey to the hospital.

Ashley looked up at me from the seat, "I know what its gonna be," she gasped, "I had a dream."

"Yeah?" I asked.

"Its a girl," she said.

"Yeah?"

She closed her eyes, her face contorting in pain. I rubbed her shoulder and looked up. We were flying through traffic, Chris focused, determined, and biting his tongue.

"We're gonna be there soon," I told her.

The bruises on Ashley's arms were turning purple right in front of my eyes and I looked up front at the back of Chris's head. How could I have let him get to her again? How could he do this to her? She was so... so perfect... and... I shook my head, I just couldn't understand it. There was nothing in all the world that she could ever do that could ever, ever, ever, ever justify what he'd done to her. Ever. I gently reached down and wiped the blood off Ashley's lower lip. "It's gonna be okay," I said.

Ashley stared up at me.

"Nick," she said, "The last two months with you... have been the best two months of my entire life."

"Shhh," I said.

"I love you," she cried.

"Baby, you're okay," I whispered. "It's okay."

"If I die you have to tell her I love her, okay? Tell her I love her so much..." she clutched my arm.

Chris looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes wide.

"Pay attention to the road," I snapped at him. His eyes disappeared. I turned back to Ashley. "Honey, you're okay. It's gonna be okay. You're just in labor or something. You're probably like dialating or whatever it was AJ said Rochelle was doing when she was pregnant."

Ashley sobbed.

"It's okay..."

"But it hurts so much, oh my God."

"It's gonna be okay, baby," I said, "We're almost there."

I looked up at the rearview mirror, though, and my eyes met with Chris's. I have him a Look. He sped up.

Before: The First Time


Ashley

The first time Chris hit me was two days after my birthday.

I was in the bathroom, having just finished taking a shower, and I was blow drying my hair. Chris came in, anger all over his face, and he ripped the cord to my dryer right out of the wall. I jumped, letting out a yip of surprise as he got right into my face, holding up the phone, "What the fuck is this?" he bellowed.

"What the fuck is what?" I said back.

"Don't you get fucking smart with me, you know god-damn well what! How long has this been going on?" He threw the phone at my chest as I stumbled back from him. I looked down at the phone and saw Nick's number on the caller ID.

"He called me to say happy birthday," I said, "Which you never said, by the way."

"How long have you been talking to him?!" Chris screamed.

"I told you! He just called to say happy birthday!" I yelled.

Chris's face was a deep shade of red, almost violet, and he sucked his lips into his mouth, biting down on them in a way that reminded me of when Kermit the Frog gets pissed off. If he wasn't so damn angry I might've laughed. But there was no laughing as I saw him draw his hand back to strike. I was too shocked at what was about to happen to even begin to prepare myself for the first blow. His hand cracked across my face fiercely, so hard that I hit the wall and slid down it, clutching my face in the resounding silence that followed the sound of the hit. I sat on the floor, tears in my eyes, my face stinging.

"Oh fuck," he groaned as he towered over me. For a moment, I thought he was about to apologize. He knelt down and I thought for sure he'd pull me into a hug, comfort me, say he was sorry so profusely that I'd believe him and it would be forgotten. A one-time-only deal. Instead, he said, "That felt so fucking good."

I was stunned. I stared up at him, my jaw dropped.

And before I could stop him, he'd wound up and cracked me a second time. And a third... a fourth... I screamed and ducked, wrapping my hands up over my head, "STOP IT!" I shrieked, "STOP IT!" The tears were pouring down my face, which felt so raw from his hitting me. I covered myself with my arms, trying to block him, and he just kept raining blows on me one after another.

"Why the fuck don't you love ME?" he yelled.

"I do! I do! Just stop! Please stop!" I sobbed.

"Fucking LIAR!" He bellowed. But he did stop. He stood up and spat at the bath tub and stormed out of the room. A moment later the apartment door slammed, too, so hard that the apartment walls rang with the echo of it.

I rolled onto my side there on the floor of the bathroom, sobbing, my face raw and my limbs shaking.

"Oh my God, oh my God," I sobbed over and over, because I couldn't even wrap my mind around what had just happened.




Nick

I was on stage when a weird feeling came over me. I dunno how to describe the feeling, it was so abstract. But I knew something wasn't right. I looked over at Brian, who was closest to me and gave him a funny look. He raised an eyebrow and mouthed what's wrong?

I shrugged.

But the feeling wouldn't go away.

Then I saw Eddie off stage. He was waving at me, holding up my cell phone, and beckoning me over. I sang my line in the song and bolted to the side of the stage motioning to Howie to pick up my next line. I pulled my headset off as I got off the sideo f the stage.

"What is it?" I demanded.

Eddie held out the phone, "It's Ashley," he said, "She said it's really important or I wouldn't have pulled you off the stage."

I held the phone to my ear, blocking my other ear and ducking away from the speakers. "Ashley?" I called into the phone, my heart pounding, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yes I'm okay," she said, but her voice was quiet.

I ducked further away from the speaker, straining to hear her over the sound of the screaming fans, the music, and the other fellas singing. "You sure?" I pressed.

"I just needed to hear your voice," she said, and the way her voice cracked I knew she'd been crying.

"Ashley, what's the matter?" I asked.

"Nothing, I just needed to hear your voice, Nick."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I said simply, "Well, here it is..."

"It's a nice voice," she said thickly.

"You know you can hear it anytime you put on my CD, right?" I joked.

Ashley laughed, though it was a weak laughter, the kind when someone says something trying to cheer you up when you're profoundly sad. "You sound different though when you're my Nick than when you're the world's Nick," she said.

I smiled at the words. "Oh, so I'm your Nick now, huh?" I teased her.

"You'll always be my Nick," she replied.

Eddie was making motions for me to wrap it up and get back on the stage.

"Hey Ashley, are you sure you're okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"Okay. Well I'm kinda in the middle of the show, can I call you back right after?"

She was quiet a moment. "Don't call my home phone," she said.

"Okay."

"Don't ever call the home phone, okay?"

"What?"

"We're disconnecting it soon, the company charges like per call and we can't afford to keep paying it so if you call my cell it's free."

I had never heard of such a thing before. "Okay, that's weird, but okay. Cell only... Got it."

"Thank you."

"Ok so I'll call you in about an hour, a'iight?"

"Okay. Promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay."

When we'd hung up I handed my cell back to Eddie. "If she ever calls again during a show," I said into his ear, "Even if she says it's not important, it is. Okay?"

Eddie nodded.

"Thanks man." I ran back out on stage, but all I could think about was Ashley.

Before: Flowers and Candy


Nick

When I got off stage, I threw a towel over my head and security ushered me out to the bus. On the way I passed a bunch of people holding up signs of support, but I tried not to look at them. I was so sick of everyone rallying to me to support me. I didn't need support, I was fine. Couldn't they just let me forget? I climbed onto the bus and closed the door and grabbed a protien drink from the fridge, shaking it on my way to my bunk.

When I'd sat down, flipped on the TV, and muted it, I called Ashley's cell phone.

She must've been sitting right on top of it because she answered immediately, "Hey," she said.

"Hey," I said back.

"How was the concert?" she asked.

I sighed, "It was okay."

"Still not having as much fun as you hoped?" she ventured.

"I just really wanna go home," I replied. It was the first time I'd said it, the first time I'd let myself really feel it. It used to be that I thought of the tour bus as home, and when I was actually home I was on vacation. There was a time when I went home on breaks and I laid awake at night, staring up at the ceiling next to whatever my flavor of the week girlfriend had been and felt a yearning homesickness for the bunk on the tour bus. This was the first time in twenty-one years that I'd ever felt homesick for home.

Ashley knew me so well, that I didn't have to tell her this.

"So are you gonna quit?" she asked.

I drew a deep breath. "I think so," I answered. This was the first time that I'd vocalized this, too, though the thought had been in my mind since the conversation I'd had with Kevin on the sidewalk in front of the gas station...and really, even before that.

"When?" she asked.

"We finish this leg next week," I said quietly, "Then there's a two-week gap, then we go to Europe and Asia and South America for almost a year."

"A year, wow," Ashley whispered. She sounded... was that frightened? I dunno. She sounded some emotion that I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"I don't think I could take a year away," I said honestly.

"So... you're talking about quitting in three weeks."

It sounded so frightening when she put it like that.

"Give or take," I replied.

"You're brave," she said admirably.

"Brave?"

"Yes, to see something you don't want to happen to yo and being strong enough to get up and walk away," she said thickly.

"I'm scared shitless," I confessed.

"It's not brave if you're not scared," she said.

"So... what was wrong earlier?" I asked. I opened my protien drink and took a long sip.

Ashley was quiet for a long moment. "Chris and I had a fight, that's all," she said.

"A fight?" I asked.

"Yeah. It wasn't a big deal, I just felt lonely after. You know how I get when I have a fight with someone," she said quickly.

Ashley and I had fought once for one week. The fight had come after I'd been diagnosed with cardiomyopathy. Ashley had gone with me to the doctor's office and she'd held my hand as the cardiologist told me my diagnosis, and the prognosis. A prognosis that was conditional: if you do better, you'll get better, if you don't, you'll die. And at the time, I was headlong, deep in a depression that I'd struggled for years to crawl out of. And I didn't give a shit if I did die. In fact, it was almost a relief. And I'd continued going out drinking and I'd continued doing drugs and I'd continued being wild and then one day Ashley showed up at my house and poured out all my liquor, flushed my drugs down the toilet, and screamed at me that I wasn't going to die, that I was going to get better, and if I didn't that I was going to lose her forever. I'd told her to fuck off. And I hadn't heard from her for two weeks. After two weeks, I missed her more than I could ever have missed the drugs. You'd think I would've learned then that I loved her, but I'm a hard learner. Instead, what I learned was that as hardcore as Ashley played or sounded, she was really terrified of losing you the entire time and it always, always turned out that, even though she stood her ground, she'd cried until you came back for her.

"What'd y'all fight about?" I asked.

Ashley was quiet. "Nothing really, it was a silly misunderstanding," she laughed.

"Tell him you're always right," I said, laughing. "Always. No matter what. Even when you're wrong you're right."

Ashley laughed.

"You tell him I said that," I said.

"I will," she said thickly.

"So other than the fight..." I asked, "How's married life?"

"It's been... just... great," Ashley said slowly.

I laughed, "You sound so enthusiastic."

"Sorry," she said, "It's been a long day." She paused. "I gotta go." And just like that, she hung up without even saying good bye.

I stared at the phone, "Um... night, I guess," I said. I sighed and clicked the phone into it's charger and swallowed the rest of my protien shake. I basket-ball threw it into the trashbin. It bounced off the rim. I rolled my eyes, but I was too lazy to go get it, so I left it there on the floor and crawled into my bed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

What would it be like, I wondered, not being a Backstreet Boy?




Ashley

I hung up the phone and shoved it into the drawer and turned over in bed so that my back was to the door. I'd heard Chris come in the front door. "ASHLEY!" he yelled into the apartment. I hugged my pillow close to my chest, refusing to respond to him. I closed my eyes tight, I thought about Nick, about his voice, about his laugh, and I buried my face against the pillow, as though it was him, as though he could save me from wherever he was.

Chris banged through the apartment. "Ashley!" he yelled more urgently. But I still refused to respond. He called me again, and again... his voice getting louder. Then the bedroom door slammed open and I kept my eyes closed and tried to breathe in as rhythmic a way as I could, trying to pretend that I was asleep. His foot falls brought him around the bed and he knelt beside the bed, right by me, and he reached up and shook my shoulder, "Ashley," he said.

I didn't open my eyes immediately.

"Ashley wake up, god damn it," he said.

I opened my eyes because I was afraid he'd hit me again if I didn't. I struggled to back away from him as he lifted his arm and I cowered... but he only turned on the lamp. He looked at me, like he was surprised to see me covering my face, bracing myself for a blow. "Stop that," he said, and he grabbed hold of my arm and pulled it away from my face. His touch was white-hot, like being seared by a branding iron.

"Don't touch me," I begged.

"Honey I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have hit you like that."

I shook my head, "You enjoyed it, you said so. You said it felt good, you enjoyed hurting me."

"You hurt me first," he said, "Taking to Nick..." he shook his head, "You know how I feel about Nick. He tried to steal you from me... he tried to stop us from being together... and I love you so much... and I cannot imagine where I would be in life without you..." His voice shook.

"Beating on some other bitch," I said coldly. If I could have rolled away, I would've. But my stomach was way too huge for rolling anywhere.

He moved and I reflexively flinched away again. He sighed, "Don't, don't do that. It's never going to happen again. I promise."

I swallowed, my throat ached from emotion.

He moved again and pulled a small bouqet of flowers out from behind his back, and he picked up a small box, which he laid on the mattress beside me. "They're chocolate covered strawberries," he said quietly.

I stared at the box.

"I know you love those," he said.

"Yeah. Thanks," I said thickly.

"I'm sorry I forgot your birthday," he added. "I've been so busy..."

"It's fine," I answered.

"Ashley," he said, "You really do love me, right? You weren't just saying that before? Earlier, I mean?"

"I married you didn't I?" I asked. "I chose you over him didn't I?"

Chris sighed. "Yeah."

"So why are you asking me this?"

"Because," he said, "I can't stomach the thought that you might love something more than you love me. Anything. But most especially I can't stand the thought that you still love Nick."

I took a deep breath, "If you ever, ever hit me again, Christopher, I will not be here when you come home."

"I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "You really can't be sorry enough."

Before: Leave


Nick

Before the show, the last show of the American leg of the tour, we were all in the dressing room just a few minutes before doing our preshow prayer. Up on the stage, our opening act was halfway through their set. I looked around. Brian was winding the wire for his earpiece down his back and Kevin was reading an Environmentalist magazine, Howie was texting, and AJ was listening to his ipod under bright hot pink Beats. Me, I was gathering the nerve to tell them what I was thinking.

"Guys," I said outloud, "I gotta talk to y'all."

Howie looked up from texting after a pause. Brian stopped in a weird position. Kevin looked up over the rim of his glasses, and AJ, who hadn't heard me, was mouthing Borderline by Madonna as he did dramatic hand movements. Kevin kicked AJ's foot and AJ pulled the headphones off, "What?" he asked. Kevin gestured at me.

"I have something important... to... announce..." I said slowly. Now that I had their attention officially, I felt less ballsy than I had talking to Ashley or thinking over the scene in my head. My tongue turned to sandpaper. "I've been um... doing a lot of thinking," I said. Kevin was nodding slowly, and I knew he knew what I was about to say, "And um.. I'm really... tired..."

"We ain't even been on stage yet, how the hell you tired already?" AJ asked.

Kevin cleared his throat.

AJ looked at him, "What? It's a fair question."

"I mean I'm tired of this." I waved my hands around the dressing room, "I just... need... a break from... it all."

Howie and Brian looked thunderstruck, Kevin looked resigned and yet at peace with the idea. AJ looked confused. Then slowly his face melted from confused to understanding to outrage, "No! No! You can't quit now!" he shouted. "We just got Kevin back! We just got all whole again! You can't quit!"

I cleared my throat, "I can't do this," I said, "I can't stand the sympathy looks and the support groups and everything that everyone keeps doing. I just wanna move on and forget the crash and I wanna be normal and not feel like my scar has completely changed my life except that it has completely changed my life and I can't both forget and continue on this tour."

"You can't quit!" AJ looked horrostruck.

Kevin intoned, "I think Nick's right. I think he needs a break to recharge."

"Fuck you, you would think that," AJ snapped rudely. He turned to me. "You can't quit the band," he said, "You're the only freak like me in this band."

"I'm freaky," Howie said defensively.

"You're a different kinda freaky," AJ responded. He looked at me, desperate, "What the fuck are we gonna do without you? We can't do this without you."

"We did it without Kevin," I pointed out.

"But it wasn't right," AJ argued. He looked at Howie and Brian, "Dudes, back me up on this, please."

Brian was staring at me, a frown on his face. "When?" he asked quietly.

"My flight's tomorrow."

"TOMORROW?" AJ bellowed, "Oh hell no! That would make our last show together---"

"Tonight," I said, nodding.

"Fuck no!"

"AJ, I'm sorry," I said, "But I can't stay here... I can't keep doing this... I don't even want to keep doing this. I want to go home."

"Fuck home!" AJ said crossly, "You can't just leave."

I sighed. "AJ... I need to."

"The door is always open," Kevin said, his voice a booming baritone. "Just like you all always said to me," he said, "It's always open."




Ashley

"You never look me in the eyes anymore," Chris said three nights later as we sat at the dinner table. I was staring down at my dinner, pushing it around on the plate with my fork. "Why don't you ever look me in the eyes?"

The honest answer was I was afraid of him.

"I look you in the eyes," I muttered, carefully avoiding his eye contact now.

"You don't," he said thickly.

I looked up, and our eyes met, but I could only look at him for a moment before looking away, my heart pounding.

He reached for his water glass, but the way he did I flinched back, half believing he'd been about to strike me. He looked at me in surprise. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Reflex," I whispered.

He scowled. Then reached over and grabbed my wrist. "Stop it," he said, "Stop acting like I'm some kind of fucking wife beater," he said.

I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent.

"You act like I make it a daily practice to whip you or something," he snarled, "It's ridiculous."

"I'm afraid Chris," I said, "You frightened me. You crossed a line, you can't expect me to just forget it this quickly."

Chris scowled even harder. "How the fuck am I supposed to make this up to you if I can't even touch you without you acting like I'm killing you?" he demanded.

"I don't know," I said honestly.

He sighed, "If you're going to keep treating me like I'm some kind of a monster," he said, "Then maybe I should just be the monster you think I am."

I stared down at my plate carefully, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I have every reason to be, you know," he said quietly.

I looked up, "What?"

"To be a monster to you." He put down his fork and knife and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I went online and looked at your cell phone's call list because I was curious about that lie you told me the other day, about how often he calls you."

My stomach turned. First of all, how creepy was that? Second of all, I knew what he was going to see. Nick and I had been talking, on average, twice a day for the past week. I stared at the table top harder, bracing myself, expecting him to blow his lid.

Chris inched closer, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look up at him, into his eyes. He held my chin tight in his hand. I struggled to pull away, but he kept his grip firm. "Look at me when I am talking to you," he snarled.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words barely able to come out of my mouth because the way he was holding me.

He glowered down at me, then let go of my chin and sighed, running his hand over his head. "I don't know, I don't know where we went wrong, why I can't just get a grip..." he looked down at the table. I stared at him because I didn't dare to look away. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long snuff through his nose. He looked up at me, expectantly.

I felt like he was waiting for me to say something, but I didn't have anything to say.

Suddenly he stood up, shoving his chair back so fast it left marks on the kitchen tile. He grabbed me by my shoulders, pulling me to my feet, and shoved me against the fridge, coming down on me with his mouth like I was something to be consumed. "Mmmfphh," I protested, pushing against his chest, pushing him away.

Chris stumbled backward and he stared at me. "What?" he demanded, "What? Now you're afraid to have sex with me, too?" he demanded.

"I'm not in the mood tonight, Chris," I said.

"You're never in the damn mood," he said. A flicker of something went through his eyes. He looked at me. "You'd do it with Nick if he was here, wouldn't you?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Yeah you would," he said, slowly moving closer to me. He got right in my face, so close I could smell his breath and he bent low so his mouth was right in my face, and I was staring at the stubble on his cheeks, "You'd let Nick touch you and fuck you..."

"Stop it Chris," I said, pushing him away, "You're acting like you're drunk or something."

"How come it's okay for you to push me, but I can't push you?" he snapped. And he pushed me. Hard. I bounced off the fridge and stumbled, just catching my balance.

"Stop it," I said.

Chris laughed.

"I swear to God I'll leave," I hissed.

"Leave?" he laughed harder, "Where the fuck are you going to go?"

"Maybe I'll go to Nick, since you think I'm so fucking in love with him," I snarled.

I moved across the kitchen from him, frightened. "Look at you," he said, "You're fat and you're ugly. If he saw you right now, he'd be sick. He doesn't want you like that." Chris waved his arm at me, "Nobody wants you like that, you look like shit."

Tears burned my eyes, "You're so stupid," I screamed.

"Oh I'm stupid, am I? Then why is it that you can't seem to keep him calling you a secret from me? Why am I smart enough to have figured out this unfurling series of lies you keep telling me?"

"I'm not lying to you, you're just making shit up that isn't true. You're so fucking paranoid that --"

"That what? That you love Nick? That you want to fuck him like you won't fuck me?" He advanced toward me around the table and I moved as quickly as I could to keep the table between us. Chris shook his head, "You fucking bitch. What am I supposed to think when I see that you're keeping secrets from me? That you're sneaking around, spending your whole god damn day talking to him?"

"I'm not spending the whole god damn day talking to him," I snapped.

"No? What the fuck else do you do around here?" he asked, angry.

"I do house work," I replied, "I clean."

"You clean?"

"Yes," I snapped, "I clean the apartment everyday and I make you dinner and I have everything perfect the way you think it should be."

Chris turned to the sink. "You call this clean?" he demanded. I'd left a couple of dishes from cooking dinner in the basin. He picked up a plate, "Look at this. Is this clean to you?"

"I was going to clean it after dinner," I replied.

Chris turned and smashed the plate against the counter, "Why the fuck wasn't it done before? Were you too busy talking to Nick?" he shouted. The plate shattered, pieces flying every direction. He picked up a second plate, a pie platter I'd bought in Germany when Nick had brought me there years ago, and he shattered that against the sink, too.

"DON'T!" I shrieked.

Chris picked up yet another one, this one a mug from Disney, and slammed it down against the metal. The ceramic Minnie Mouse bow that was on the handle flew across the room. "Stop breaking the dishes! Stop it!" I cried.

He grabbed a plate and he whipped it in my direction.

After: Reason Enough


Nick

Normally, it takes about fifteen minutes to get from Ashley's apartment to a hospital. That day, it took exactly seven minutes.

But they were the longest damn seven minutes that you ever felt.

I've never been more scared in my entire life than when Ashley reached up, put her hands on my face, drew me close, and whispered to me, "Promise me that you will keep my baby."

"Of course we're gonna keep the baby," I whispered. "We're gonna have the baby and we're gonna raise the baby up and we're gonna be a family."

Ashley's eyes were full of tears, "Promise me you won't let my baby go to an orphanage."

I wiped her tears with my thumbs. "Ashley."

"Promise me," she begged.

"Honey, I promise," I said.

Ashley put her hands back down on her stomach. She closed her eyes.

"Ashley," I said, "You aren't dying."

She looked up at me, "How do you know?" she asked me.

"Because," I said, "The universe can't be that cruel. It just can't be. I've waited too long to be with you, and the universe has worked too hard to get us here." I shook my head, "Because I love you too much to let you die."

Ashley blinked more tears, which streaked across her cheeks. "I wish that was reason enough to make it true," she whispered.

"It is baby, it is," I whispered back.

I was so absorbed in my little world with Ashley in the backseat that I had completely forgotten Chris was up front until he slammed to a stop in front of the doors to the ER. He got out of the car and opened the door behind me.

"Go get a wheel chair and a nurse," I told him. He bolted to the doors of the ER. "Baby, we're there," I said to Ashley.

"Oh good," she murmured.

"C'mon baby." I took her under her arms and slid her back with me to the edge of the back seat, gently swiveling her so she was ready to be moved out of the car. I knelt down in front of her, holding her hands. She clung to them, squeezing tightly. "I love you Ashley," I whispered, "I love you more than my life itself, you know that?"

"I love you," she mumbled.




Ashley

It hurt so bad.

I stared at Nick.

I wanted him to be the last thing I saw.

I clutched his hands. "Don't leave me," I pleaded.

He shook his head, "I won't. I'm right here."

Suddenly there were people behind him. A nurse and a doctor in dark blue scrubs and Chris with a wheel chair and the doctor made Nick move. "Nick!" I whimpered, reaching out for him. I felt him grab hold of my hand, though I couldn't see where from, and the doctor took his place in front of me.

"Hey Ashley," he said, "My name is Dr. Jorryn and I'm going to be your doctor."

"Hi Dr. Jorryn," I whispered.

"Can you tell me about your pain?" he asked. He was touching my stomach.

"It hurts," I muttered.

He nodded, "I know, I understand."

"No you don't," I whispered. "You don't have a vagina."

He laughed. "You've got me there, Ashley, I don't. But I do work with a lot of them."

"You got a dirty doctor baby," I heard Nick laugh.

Dr. Jorryn smirked. "Is this your husband?"

"No. I am," Chris said possessively.

Dr. Jorryn looked confused, but he didn't say anything. He stood up, "Can you stand up, Ashley, honey?" he asked.

"I don't know," I mumbled. I felt like I might throw up if I tried.

"We're gonna move you to the wheel chair so we can get you inside. And you know what's waiting for you inside?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Drugs," he replied.

I looked up at him. "Yeah?"

He nodded. "And damn good ones too." He held out his hands.

I reluctantly let go of Nick to grab onto Dr. Jorryn. He pulled me up out of the car and I felt the nurse brace my back with my hands as Dr. Jorryn turned me and placed me into the wheel chair with an ease that could have only come from practice. He smiled at me, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

I shook my head.

"Atta girl," he said. Then he looked at my arm. He extended my arm, studying the bruises. "What happened here?" he asked.

I shook my head.

Dr. Jorryn looked concerned, "We can talk later, inside. C'mon, let's go." He stood up, disappearing from view. The chair was suddenly accelerated around the car and I realized I wasn't holding onto Nick.

"Nick!" I cried. I heard him scramble to get to me, and he grabbed my hand and held tight as Dr. Jorryn pushed me through the doors of the hospital.

Before: Super Pregnant


Ashley

The next day while Chris was at work, I packed my suitcase. I methodically put all my favorite things into it, wrapping glass items in newspapers and laying sweaters and dresses that I coudln't fit into and books and a handful of DVDs that I considered worth carrying with me, and I zipped up the suitcase. It was laying on the bed. I reached for the handle to pull it off of the bed, planning to leave, and it slid and hit my foot. "OW!" I wailed. I sat on the floor, clutching my foot and started crying.

I felt so defeated. I was sore all over from the fight the night before, and I had a welt on my back from where one of the plates had hit me. Most of them had hit the wall around me, but one had clipped me enough to leave this big purple bruise with an angry line across where the actual impact had occurred. It was like a violent, one-way game of frisbee.

I rocked myself, my stomach making me feel like a weeble, and realized how utterly alone I was. I couldn't call Nick because Chris would find out, and there was nobody else in my life. In most movies when the girl needs help she goes to her parents but mine were dead. I was alone in the world. My hands shook and I covered my eyes. "How did I get here," I sobbed.

Two years ago at this time I was probably at some club with Nick, probably hooking him up with some random chick, staring at his back the whole night and wishing that he would want to hook up with me. I was drinking beer and I was alone but I wasn't lonely because I spent all my time talking to Nick, and he understood me and he knew what was going on in my life because I could tell him without being afraid that he'd get mad at me or say that was what I got for picking the wrong man.

Because I had.

I ran my hand across my stomach. I loved whatever was growing in there, but at the same time, I blamed it, too. I blamed it because I'd chosen Chris over Nick because of it. I know it's wrong, but I couldn't help it. Every time I saw myself in a mirror and I saw the bump, I thought if you didn't exist I'd be married to Nick. Every time it kicked against my insides I thought are you abusing me, too, from the inside, just like your father?

I looked at my suitcase.

Who the hell was I kidding? I wasn't gonna leave. Chris was right, where the fuck was I going to go? I had nowhere to go.

I used my feet and pushed the suitcase, still packed, under the bed, and I struggled to get up, leaning against the mattress until I was upright.

My phone vibed. It was on the dresser. I walked slowly over to it, my body aching. It was Nick. I knew I shouldn't answer it, that Chris would find out and he'd get pissed and he'd beat the shit out of me for it later, but I weighed the cost in my mind and deemed Nick worth the pain I'd go through. So I answered it.

"Nick!" I said, tears in my eyes, I was just so thankful it was him.

"Hey Ashley," he said. He sounded tired. "Listen I'm headed to the grocery store and I was gonna get some coffee on the way... You wanna get some coffee?"

I paused. "You're in LA?"

"Yeah, I just flew in this morning, and my cupboard's empty so I'm gonna get groceries before I go home, but I'm like a zombie man so I need some coffee before I go..." he laughed, "I was hoping I could see you, I owe you a birthday coffee."

"Yes."

"Awesome. Should I come pick you up?"

I imagined walking to the coffee house alone. "Yes," I said.

"I'll be there in about fifteen," he replied, and he hung up.

If Chris asked later, the call was short enough I could tell him Nick called and I told him not to call again. I had an out. An excuse. I just prayed we could go to coffee and get back before Chris came home. I glanced at the clock. It was noon, Chris wasn't due home until five. I shouldn't have a problem, I thought.

I pulled open the top dresser drawer, got a different pair of sweatpants and a top and waddled to the bathroom to try to make myself look somewhat decent. Once I'd changed, I stared at myself in the mirror as I put my make-up on and all I could hear was Chris's shouts from the night before, telling me I was ugly and looked like shit. I brushed a loose curl of my red hair out of my eyes and puckered my lips to apply my lipstick. I smacked them together.

The buzzer to the apartment door rang and I waddled out to hit it to let Nick up the stairs. I unlocked the door so he could get in, and got my purse from the kitchen counter.

The door opened. "Hey Ashley," he called.

"I'm in the kitchen," I called back.

I was stuffing a granola bar into my purse.

I heard his footsteps as he came around the corner. Then. "Holy shit."

"What?" I turned.

Nick was wide-eyed, staring at my stomach. "You, you're like -- super pregnant. Jesus."

And just like that, I busted into tears.




Nick

I'd been there less than twenty seconds and I'd already broken her. It must be some kind of world record. I panicked. "Oh Jesus I'm sorry," I yelped and I leaped forward to hug her and she flinched, bringing her hands up to block herself. I figured she didn't want me to hug her so I backed away, hands up, "I'm sorry," I said, "Please don't cry."

Ashley was hugely pregnant though, like holy shit was she pregnant. Rochelle had one of those nice neat little pregnant stomachs when she was pregnant and Leigh you could barely tell. Even Leighanne, who we'd once thought was wildly pregnant when she had Baylee hadn't been as big a round as Ashley was. I was reminded of this zebra I saw once a long ass time ago when we went to a zoo and the zebra was pregnant but the rest of it was super skinny so it had like basically a giant baby-zebra-shaped stomach and the rest of it was really narrow and made the stomach look even bigger. Ashley was like that. Her arms and legs and stuff were still small but her stomach and boobs were like... whoa.

"I'm fat and ugly," she sobbed.

"You aren't fat and ugly," I argued, "You're just pregnant is all." She continued crying. I stood there flapping my arms because I didn't know what to do. I hate when girls cry, I feel so awkward, and I wasn't even able to just hug her to make it better because she was married and touching her was crossing a line and I felt helpless and useless and really big and out of place. "Don't cry, please don't cry," I begged.

"I can't help it," she snuffled.

"Then let me hug you at least," I pleaded, "Because I don't know what to do to help."

She moved slowly toward me, like she was afraid of the floor giving out under her or something, and she pressed her face into my chest. I put my arms around her, and she stiffened at first, her muscles all tight and stuff, but as we stood there, she slowly melted against me, relaxing, and finally wrapped her arms around me, too. Her gigantic belly was between us.

After a long moment, she looked up at me. Ashley's face was crumpled, tears coming down it. "Oh Jesus you must think I'm an emotional mess."

I was thinking that, actually, yes, but I said, "No I just think you're pregnant. Maybe tired. Are you tired? You don't look like you slept a lot."

"I didn't," she said.

"Aw," I answered. I puckered out my lower lip and tilted my head.

She looked at me and laughed through her tears. "You look like a dog," she squeaked.

"Well thanks," I laughed. "Just the self esteem boost I needed."

Ashley laughed again. "I missed you," she said.

I looked down at her, and all those feelings I had for her were bubbling, threatening to boil over right at the surface of me. I felt dizzy with them. She smelled so good, though different than before, she must've changed shampoos. My mouth was dry.

"Coffee," I said quietly.

Ashley nodded, and she untangled herself from around me and picked up her purse. She waddled when she walked and I had to bite back the urge to make a comment. I thought it was cute, the way she waddled. But I knew she wouldn't understand that I meant any comment I said about it in a good way, and I didn't want a repeat of the crying. She shouldered her purse and turned back to me. "Sorry," she said, "Me and walking aren't exactly the best of friends right now."

I smiled. "You're fine," I replied.

"Chris says I walk like an old man," Ashley said.

"You walk just fine." Although I had to agree there was a certain old man quality to her waddle now that it was pointed out. "I'd walk like that too if I had a baby in me I guess," I said.

"You'd look funny pregnant," Ashley said.

"Luckily, we'll never know," I answered, "Unless I'm secretly a seahorse or something."

Ashley laughed.

"And I'm pretty sure I ain't a seahorse."

"You don't look like one," she said.

As she walked by, I fell in step behind her. I watched her feet as she shuffled along, and my eye was caught by something red on the floor. I bent down and picked up a ceramic Minnie Mouse bow from the floor. "What's this?" I stood up, inspecting it. Then I realized I recognized it. "Your Minnie mug broke?"

Ashley had turned, too. Her face was red. "Yes," she said, "I dropped it on the floor last night. I'm such a klutz lately. I swear the baby makes me a klutz."

I tossed the ceramic bow into Ashley's trashcan. It clinked against more glass. I glanced inside. There was about fifteen broken plates in there. "Jesus, I'll say you're a klutz. You broke all those?" I pointed at the barrel. "What'd you do? Throw a Greek wedding party?"

Ashley laughed. "I dropped the drying rack."

"That sucks. That must've been a son of a bitch to clean."

She nodded, "It was a son of a bitch all right."

Before: Coffee Shop Nerves


Nick

Even though I was trying not to, I think I was making Ashley nervous. She was really jumpy and kept apologizing for no real reason, for things that once we would've laughed about her doing - like letting the door close on me at the coffee house or stepping on my foot in line for the register. She just seemed really uncomfortable, and I felt bad because I had a feeling that it had something to do with the fact that the last time she'd seen me I'd been on my knees in front of her asking her not to marry her husband.

I guess that sorta thing would kind of make you uncomfortable next time you saw a guy.

I pulled the chair out for her at the table, though, and she sat awkwardly. I offered her my hand to lean on and she shied away from it when I extended it. I sighed. She was afraid to even touch me.

I sat down across from her once she was settled and she sipped the green tea she'd gotten and I studied her for a long moment. There was something missing... something missing in her eyes, and I couldn't quite place what it was.

"So you're home," she said after a long bout of silence. She'd noticed me looking at her and spent a couple seconds coming up with something to say and that was what she'd landed on.

"Yeah," I said.

"...did you do it?" she asked.

I'd called her the day before and told her that I was probably gonna tell the fellas about my decision to leave the band and she'd been really supportive about it.

I nodded around my coffee cup, "Yeah," I said, "I did it."

Ashley took a deep breath and let it out really slowly. "I'm amazed," she said," Wow."

"What, you didn't think I'd do it?" I asked.

"I thought you'd be more... traumatized," she said.

"Traumatized?"

"Yeah. I mean, that's like... huge. Two thirds of your life is over."

I hadn't really thought of it like that. I hadn't thought of anything really yet. I hadn't had time. It'd been a busy night and the guys hadn't said much of anything, probably because they were shellshocked. Well except AJ, who had decided that I was full of shit and would be right beside him on the plane to Europe two weeks later, but he was wrong because I wouldn't be.

"I guess it hasn't really hit me yet," I admitted. "I'm sure it will. Right now though I'm just relieved."

Ashley nodded. "Like all great retirees, I suppose," she said.

"That's weird." I sat back, "I hadn't thought of myself as a retiree yet." I laughed. "I guess you're kind of a retiree, too."

Ashley laughed quietly, "I guess so."

"So you're gonna be a stay-at-home mom, huh?" I asked.

Ashley nodded.

I gestured at her stomach. "Do you know what it's gonna be yet?" I asked.

She shook her head, "We're waiting to find out."

"Nice," I said.

"I just know it's not multiples," Ashley added.

"You sure? You look like it could be five or six in there," I joked.

Ashley laughed. "Nope, doctor says there's only one."

"Must be Bigfoot."

"Maybe. Leave it to me to give birth to a giant. Lord only knows where the giant gene came from, considering Chris and I are both fairly small-boned."

"Don't let it near any beanstalks."

"Or sling shots."

"Yeah, that'd be unfortunate."

"Extremely."

"So how's Chris?" I asked.

Ashley was quiet for a second. She stared down at her cup, "He's good, you know, working a lot. He's gone most of the day." She took a sip.

"Yeah?"

"Yep."

I chewed the inside of my mouth. "Well tell him I said hey."

"Sure."

I looked around the coffee shop. People were eating scones and sipping drinks. They were reading books and deep in conversation. I wondered if any of them had backgrounds and histories as wildly complicated as Ashley and I did or if all their stories were basic, non-convoluted, non-tragic. Was I surrounded by the lucky ones that had their happily ever afters? I looked back at Ashley. She was beautiful. She seemed to glow with an unearthly beauty.

I wanted to tell her so, but I didn't dare to, so I kept the thought to myself.

But I mean, I'm not one of those guys that like think pregnant chicks are hot but Ashley looked about 75 times sexier than usual with her big round belly and swollen cheeks. Even the sacks under her eyes seemed to highlight her high cheek bones and underline the color of her irises in an attractive manner.

I wasn't prepared for how gorgeous she'd be.

"You're gonna be a great mom," I said.

Ashley smiled. "You really think so?"

I nodded, "The best."

"I'm scared," she confessed, "That I won't know how to be. I don't have any really great examples."

I shrugged, "It'll come natural to you. I know it will."

"Thank you, Nick," she said, and her cheeks glowed happily.




Ashley

The time flew by, like it always did with Nick. Several cups of coffee and tea, many laughs, and an entire afternoon later, and I felt like a completely different person. I was happy, which I'd almost forgotten how that felt. It'd been awhile.

I was so busy being happy that I completely forgot to watch the time.

Nick leaned back, having finished his last sip of his coffee. He glanced at his watch. "Damn," he said, a surprised look crossing his face, "So much for getting my groceries done early," he laughed.

"What?"

"It's almost six."

"What!" I felt sick to my stomach, "No. It can't be. Are you serious? Oh shit. Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-SHIT."

Nick sat up again, "What? What's wrong?"

I was struggling to my feet, "I need to get home. Like now. Like right now." I gasped. "Oh shit. Shit. SHIT."

Nick leaped up and ran around the table and helped me to my feet. "Okay, it's okay. I'll get you home. It's okay."

"No it isn't. I was supposed to be home before Chris. That was an hour ago."

"So give him a call, tell him we'll be right there."

We will be right there? Oh fuck. FUCKETY-FUCK!

"Oh shit. Oh Jesus. Oh shit. No. No, I can walk. You need to grocery shop. Go grocery shopping. I'll just... shit." There was no way to win. If I tried to walk home I'd probably die on the way there. My feet already ached, and my back was sore from the plate and from carrying around about a billion pounds of stomach. But if I let Nick drive me home and Chris ever, ever knew that I'd spent the entire fucking day with Chris, he'd probably kill me. Either way, death was imminent.

"Walk? Don't be ridiculous. It was ridiculous you walked here from your apartment before you were six months pregnant," Nick said.

"No I can do it, I'm just fine," I said. I struggled to waddle toward the door of the cafe.

"Ashley, don't be crazy."

"No really." I tripped and Nick caught me by my elbow.

"Ashley."

"Please Nick."

He stared at me. "Why don't you want me to bring you home?" he asked.

I looked up at him.

"Chris doesn't know we're hanging out together, does he?"

I shook my head.

Nick nodded, understanding. "Okay. So let me drive you home, and I'll drop you off."

"Okay."

He stepped ahead of me and opened the door. "It'll be our secret," he said, smiling.

I just hoped it was enough to keep me out of trouble.

Before: Emergency Contact


Ashley

The lights were out in the apartment when I finally got to the top of the stairs and got inside. It was silent. Eerily silent. My first thought was that maybe he wasn't home yet, maybe he'd gone out drinking with Devon or Ryker, the guys from work. Maybe he didn't know that I had gone out. Maybe he didn't have to know.

And then I flipped the light on.

He was sitting in the chair in the living room, the one that faces the dining room, where the front door to the apartment was. And he had his lips pursed, his eyes were focused on me. He stood up, jaw set.

I backed up, planning to go out the door, but I was so slow that he managed to get across both rooms before I got the two steps back. He slammed his hand against the door over my head. "You just got home, why leave so soon?" he snarled in my face. He turned the locks on the door, pushing me away. He stood between it and me, his face one of complete anger.

"Chris, I'm sorry, I took a walk and I went too far and I was sitting and taking a break at the coffee house, just resting, and it took longer to walk back than I thought it would."

He advanced at me. I squeaked and hurried away. I moved so the couch was between us. "You're scaring me," I said.

"Am I?" he asked.

"Chris, please."

He stared at me. "Tell me the truth," he said, "Right now. Where. Were. You."

"The coffee house," I said.

Chris stared at me. "With whom."

He knew.

I licked my lips. "I --"

"With whom?"

"Chris, I can't just not talk to him, he's been my best friend for over twenty-eight years and --"

He let out a shout of rage and he lunged over the couch at me. I shrieked and tried to run, but I was so slow I couldn't get away. He caught me around the middle from behind, pulling me into him, pulling my hair back so I was looking up at him, my neck twisted painfully. "WHAT THE FUCK DID I TELL YOU ABOUT TALKING TO HIM? AND YOU OPENLY DEFY ME? YOU JUST GO OUT WITH HIM?!!"

"Let me go!" I screamed.

"Did you fuck him?" he demanded.

"No! Let me go!" I struggled to get him off me.

He turned me quickly, slamming me back to the wall and leaning over me, holding me in place by my neck, getting right in my face. "YOU'RE DISGUSTING!" he screamed in my face, "You make me sick!"

"Let me go!" I choked.

"He can't have you," Chris snarled.

I did the only thing I could think to do. I swung and punched Chris squarely in the face, blood spurted from his nose as it crunched under my hand. He let go of my neck and stumbled backward, clutching his face. I rushed to the door, my hands shaking, and tried to undo the locks.

But I wasn't quick enough.

He grabbed me and pulled me away from the door, his arms clutched around my middle. I waved my hands, trying to grab onto the door knob, to pull free from him, to open the door. "HELP!" I screamed, "HELP!" My throat was raw from the cries.

"Shut the fuck up!" he screamed.

"HELP ME! OH GOD, PLEASE, SOMEBODY HELP ME!" I've never screamed louder in my entire life. I could only pray someone in the building heard me.




Nick

Little known fact number one: I hate grocery shopping.

I had a pencil in my mouth and consulted my check list of shit I knew I needed at home, which I'd scribbled in the parking lot because everyone knows its a bad idea to go shopping hungry without a list. The thing is, I was hungry when I made the list so it was pretty much the same difference. My cart was half full already and I wasn't even halfway through the grocery store. I was on the cereal aisle (one of the ones I often end up adding the most extra crap to my cart on) when my phone vibed.

I juggled the three boxes of cereal I held in my arms, the list, and spit my pencil into my hand as I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I looked down at the display. Some random number I didn't recognize. I dropped the phone into the cart. I never answered numbers I didn't know.

I threw the three boxes of cereal into the cart and crossed out one box of cereal from my list. Three times.

Down the rest of the aisle, around onto the next. I was in the process of adding a bag of frozen french fries to my cart when my phone rang again. I looked down at it. It was the same number.

I sighed and picked it up.

"'lo?" I said.

"Is this Mr. uhh... Nick... Carter?"

"Uhh-huh." I opened the freezer and pulled out my assorted bags of frozen veggies. "Who's this?"

"My name is Scott Edwards and I'm a doctor at Memorial Hospital."

I raised an eyebrow. "Uhh... yeah... look, Dr. Scott Edwards at Memorial Hospital, if this is like some kinda weird marketing call, there's literally nothing you can sell me. I have health insurance, I eat healthy, exercise four times a week, and I'm quite verile so I don't need any purple pills. Have a great night."

"Mr. Carter!" Dr. Edwards yelled, stopping me from hanging up, "A miss Ashley Jackson is here and you're listed as her emergency contact person."

"Say what?" Now he had my attention.

"Ashley Jackson was just admitted to the hospital," he repeated, "And you're listed as her emergency contact."

I'd literally dropped her off not even two hours ago. How in the hell..

"What's wrong? What's the matter? Is she okay? Is the baby okay? Where's her husband?"

"Mr. Carter, we would like to talk to you, as soon as you get to the hospital."

"I'll be right there."

I left my cart of groceries right where it was and ran for the door.

After: You Do Not Deserve It


Nick

Ashley held my hand so tight as we ran into that hospital. Dr. Jorryn pushed the wheel chair with an urgency that made my adrenaline rush seem slow-moving. He got to the double doors leading to the exam rooms and turned so he was going in back-to. "You both need to wait here," Dr. Jorryn said.

Ashley's eyes widened, "No!"

"Just for a couple minutes, sweetie," the nurse said, bending so Ashley could see her. She reached for Ashley's hand, which was clutching mine, "You need to let go, just for a couple minutes and then I'll come out and get them for you."

"Nick!" Ashley wailed. She looked at me, begging me to make them let me in.

"Please," I said.

Dr. Jorryn shook his head, "We'll come get you in just a few moments."

"Come get me rather," Chris said pointedly. "As I'm the father."

Dr. Jorryn looked between Chris and I, "Yes. Well. We'll come get one or both of you, depending how things go in here." He pulled Ashley backwards and her hand slipped from mine.

"NICK!" she shrieked, "Please!"

"I'm gonna be right there, in just a minute, baby, I promise," I shouted as Dr. Jorryn turned her in the hallway on the other side of the doors and they slammed closed, blocking her from view.

I could hear her crying from here.

I covered my face with my hands. "Fuck," I groaned into them. I ran my hands back through my hair, and turned to look at Chris. He was standing just a few feet away, looking riled and dishevelved. It suddenly occurred to me like what shit we both looked like, all banged up from our fight. There was blood on Chris's shirt, though I don't know if it was his, mine, or Ashley's. Maybe all three. My face ached, and I used my hand to feel my jaw, which was really sore from one or two of the punches Chris had thrown back at the apartment.

I'm happy to report that Chris looked a lot worse than I felt, though.

Because, you know, I kicked his ass and stuff.

Chris wandered over and threw himself into a chair. He glowered down at his feet.

I stayed where I was.

Chris looked at the seat next to himself, then up at the reception desk, then glanced at the TV, then back at the seat next to him. He looked up at me. "It's your fault, you know."

"What is?"

"This," Chris said.

"How is this my fault?"

Chris pointed to the seat beside him. "Right here. Right here in this very seat. A year and a half ago, she sat right here, in tears, shaking so hard..." He drew a deep breath. "She was sitting right there when she started to fall for me."

I stared at the seat. I pictured Ashley sitting there.

I pictured Ashley falling in love with Chris as I hung from my seatbelt in the airplane on the front lawn of some suburban house, miles away, my face pressed to the window, the flames scarring my face. I pictured my world turning upside down. I pictured where the story had all begun.

I looked at Chris. "Why couldn't you just have treated her right?"

"Because, if she ever really did love me," he said, "She stopped."

"She chose you," I reminded him.

"Only because she was pregnant."

I sank into the chair next to him.

Chris looked up at the double doors they'd taken Ashley through.

"She didn't really choose me," he said. "If she'd had a choice, it would've been you. She chose you every time she had a choice to make. Every time." He looked over at me. "Even before you were an option, she always chose you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ashley's chosen you since the day you met her," Chris said simpy. We fell into silence, waiting.




Ashley

The exam room door closed behind Dr. Jorryn. I was sobbing into my hands. "I want Nick," I begged, "Please, I need him."

"I'll go get him in just a second," he said, "But first we need to talk." He came over and helped me up out of the wheel chair awkwardly. I clutched my stomach. Almost as soon as I stood up, a pain ripped through me and I doubled forward, shrieking. "Steady... steady..." Dr. Jorryn held me up, he didn't complain as I held so tight to his hand that I thought for sure it must be near breaking.

When the pain had passed, I loosened my grip on him, and the nurse swooped in and helped me change from my sweats and tank top to one of those ugly gowns with the weird floral stripey prints.

Dr. Jorryn helped hoist me onto the exam table, and to get my legs into those terrible stirrups, and he pulled over a swiveling stool and he was suddenly down there, under the gown, his fingers touching me.

I grabbed the nurse by the wrist, "Please, I need Nick. Please."

She looked at me apologetically.

The doctor ducked back out. "Okay Ashley, the bad news is that it looks like you've got a ways to go," he said, pulling his gloves off his hands. "The good news is you're far enough along for the epidural." He smiled reassuringly at me. "It's going to be okay."

"It hurts so bad, though," I said.

"I know." Dr. Jorryn picked up an ipad from the counter behind him and looked it over carefully. "McKenna, will you please run and get me an epidural kit?" The nurse nodded and hurried out of the exam room. Dr. Jorryn looked at me. "Let's get you numbed up, shall we?"

"Oh God yes, please." I nodded. "Can I have Nick now?"

He rolled the stool over closer to my head end and took a deep breath. He took my arm and turned it so he could see some of the bruising and swelling. "What happened?" he asked, running his hand across my skin.

I looked at my legs.

"Ashley," Dr. Jorryn said quietly.

I licked my lips.

"Is he hurting you?" Dr. Jorryn asked.

"Nick would never hurt me," I said quickly, horrified at the very thought, "Nick is the most gentle, amazing man in the entire --"

"What about the other one."

"Chris," I said.

"Is Chris hurting you?"

I fell silent.

Dr. Jorryn studied me. "How long?" he asked, not needing an explicit answer.

"I deserved it." I looked up at Dr. Jorryn, "He really didn't mean to. He just... I pushed him... I all but cheated on him... well, I have cheated on him now... I just... I mean... I..." I broke down, my shoulders shaking. Another pain rocked through me, and Dr. Jorryn squeezed my hands tight in his own as I cried out.

Dr. Jorryn took my hand. "Ashley," he said quietly, "You do not deserve it."

"But --"

"You do not deserve it," he said firmly. He said it so heavily, so finally, that I almost believed him.

I looked up at him with pleading eyes, "I beg you," I said, "I need Nick."

Dr. Jorryn nodded. "As soon as McKenna gets back with your epidural kit, I'll have her get him."

I nodded.

"It's going to be okay, Ashley," he said. "We're going to help you."

Before: A History of Violence


Nick

I was fucking terrified.

I had no idea what to expect. I mean she'd been fine not even two hours before, at least I thought she'd been fine. I thought of how jumpy and nervous she was. Was that some sort of symptom that I'd just overlooked and ignored? Should I have noticed something and been driving her to the doctor's instead of just casually sitting across from her chatting and laughing and dropping her off a block from the apartment building? Had the walk back to the apartments been too much for her? Had it been too much for the baby?

Why hadn't she removed me from her emergency contact and replaced me with Chris, like she'd replaced me with Chris on every other level?

I literally ran from my car into the emergency room, my sneakers pounding the pavement as hard as my heart was pounding in my chest. I came to a skidding stop against the receptionist's desk. "ImHereForAshleyJackson?" I gasped the words out all in one long string of air.

She calmly clicked the computer screen and scrolled through patients.

She coudln't scroll any faster than that? Jesus.

She turned to the other receptionist beind her, "Grace... where'd they move that domestics case to?"

Domestics?

"Oh they admitted her..." the other receptionist rolled over, clicked onto a second computer and took her time scrolling through. "They called the emergency contact..."

"That's me," I chimed in, in case they'd forgotten me.

The one called Grace nodded, and snapped some gum in her teeth and kept scrolling through the computer. Finally she waved at the screen. The first one read whatever it said, got up, smiled sweetly, sadly at me, and said, "Let me show you to Dr. Edwards' office."

"Can I see Ashley first?"

"Dr. Edwards specifically requested to speak to you first."

"Um okay."

She led the way to the elevator, which we rode to the fifth floor, walked down a long corridor, through a set of important looking doors, down another long corridor and came to a stop outside of an office door. There was a little placard on it that read Dr. S. Edwards with a bunch of those letter credentials after it that I have no clue what they meant other than this guy was really smart.

The door opened and a guy that looked like Monk stood before us. He once-overed me, then smiled at the receptionist. "Thank you, Ashton."

She nodded and walked away.

"Come in, Nick," Dr. Edwards said, stepping back into the office and waving me forward.

I stepped inside. It was a somewhat tiny office, considering all the letters on his credential. His desk was covered with Pez dispensers and paperwork in large coloful stacks of multishaded papers. He lowered himself down into the desk chair, waving for me to sit across from him in a leather chair. I sat. And he took a deep breath.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked.

I had no idea what he was talking about. "...what, exactly?" I asked. "Ashley being sick or whatever? She was fine two hours ago. We were at the cafe and she was fine then."

Dr. Edwards steepled his fingers together. "Ashley tells us that she fell down in her apartment," he said.

"Is she okay?"

"Well, yes and no."

I waited for him to continue. He didn't. I said, "And by that you mean..."

"A neighbor called 911 and reported that there was some pretty intense fighting going on in the apartment that the EMTs found Ashley in. She was alone, claiming she'd been just yelling to get someone to come help her, but..." he paused.

"....but...?"

His eyes met mine. "Does her husband have any history of violence?"

I swear to Christ, my heart stopped.

"What?" I choked, my voice struggling to leave my throat.

"The patterns of her injuries are not consistent with her claim that she fell down. And she has several healing bruises and a fairly large welt on her lower back that are also inconsistent with her story... but consistent with a domestic violence case."

If I ever... ever... see that fucking bastard again I will fucking kill him.

Dr. Edwards leaned forward, "Ashley refuses to tell us anything other than the story that she fell down and caused the injuries that way and unfortunately unless she requests to press charges, there isn't a whole lot we can do to help." He took a deep breath. "But I will say this, she's damn lucky she didn't lose that baby tonight. There was a lot of fetal distress caused by this incident and we only just saved the baby." He shook his head. "I wanted to speak to you before you went to see her to tell you this so that you could possibly convince her that coming clean on the matter would be what is best, not only for her, but also for the baby."

I nodded.

He stood up. "Let me show you to her room."

I got up and followed him back through the maze of hospital corridors feeling numb and stunned and confused and sick.

I had seen symptoms after all. Lots of them.

And I'd just driven away.

Dr. Edwards showed me to the hospital room, peeked inside, and nodded. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help you. My extension is 332." He struck out his hand and I shook it. Just as he was about to let go he said, "She seems like a good girl. Take care of her."

My tongue felt like sand paper, "I'm trying to," I answered.

When he'd walked away, I stepped inside the room.

She was aslee, an oxygen mask over her mouth and nose. I was reminded of when we were filming the video for Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely and Brian was taping his part and it scared me because it looked so real and I remembered when he was sick and in the hospital with his heart condition and I didn't go. But this was real.

I walked over to her bed, pulled over a plastic chair, and sat down. I looked at her hand. I thought about taking it, holding it, but I hesitated, wondering if she'd mind that. Finally, I decided that she wouldn't, and I gently picked it up, holding it in my own. Her skin was cold, and I cupped my hands around hers, trying to warm it up. Her fingers curled instinctively around my hand.

She groaned and her eyes fluttered open. "Nick?" she mumbled.

"Hey," I said quietly.

"What happened?" she asked, blinking around the room.

"You tell me," I replied.




Ashley

It was like looking at a guardian angel, like a knight on a white horse had ridden to my bedside. I clutched his hand, tears filled my eyes as I stared up at him. I was so fucking thankful to see him.

I'd truly feared for my life when I started screaming for help back at the apartment. I'd thought for sure I wouldn't get out of there, that Chris would kill me. When the EMTs burst through the door, he'd stormed out and left me laying there on the floor, coughing and choking, the impressions of his hands on my neck still burning on my skin.

I don't know why I lied for him.

"I... fell."

"That's a lie." Nick's face was sad, not angry. I looked down at my hand clutched in his. My throat ached. "Ashley," he said, his voice almost pleading.

I looked into his eyes. Those deep, beautiful blue eyes. "Please," I begged, "I don't want him to go to jail. They'll send him to jail and he doesn't... he couldn't... he just..." I couldn't wrap my mouth around words. "He'll go to jail like my father and my baby... my baby needs..." I couldn't finish my sentences, I choked and started crying.

Nick stood up and climbed onto the sliver of bed beside me, he pulled me into his chest and I pressed my face against him, sobbing. My tears wetting his shirt and making it cling to his skin. He rubbed my arm and squeezed me tight to him his chin resting on my head as he held me. "Why didn't you tell me, Ashley?" Nick asked, "Why didn't you ask me for help?"

"I was afraid," I gasped.

"Of me?"

"Of admitting I made a mistake," I said.

Nick pressed his cheek to my head and held me all the tighter. "How long has this been happening?"

"Since just after my birthday."

We were quiet for a long moment. Then:

"It was because I called you, wasn't it?"

I didn't answer.

Before: Living Arrangements


Nick

Three days. That's how long you could see Chris's hand prints on her neck. That's how long it took for her to recover, for the fetal distress to calm, and for the doctors to allow her to go home on the promise that she have someone with her to take care of her. Someone besides her husband. You know, the fucking bastard that did this to her.

I spent all three days beside her.

"You can go home, you know," she said around seven-thirty on the second day, when I was yawning, leaning back in a hard plastic chair - the only chair the nurses could seem to find for me - and watching some goofy show she had on the TV screen. I'd just watched her eat her dinner (a soppy turkey sandwich with a green Jell-O cup, a tiny cardboard box of milk and a side of green beans floating in semi-clear liquid; aren't you jealous?), and the nurse was clearing away her tray.

The nurse cocked her head, interested in what my response would be.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said. We were holding hands, and I tapped our laced fingers against the bed beside her. "I'm perfectly fine right here."

"You should at least get some food," Ashley said, concerned.

"I'm okay," I said, shaking my head.

Truth be told, I didn't dare to leave her alone. I've watched my fair share of horror flicks and suspense movies where the moment the girl is left alone the guy sneaks in the window and kills her or kidnaps her or has her poisoned by his secret double agent parading as an over interested nurse. I eyeballed the nurse, and she quickly sprang back to work clearing off the trays.

I know, I was being ridiculous, but really, there wasn't much of anything that I would've put past Chris after this.

"I could have them bring you something," the nurse piped up. "You don't have to leave."

Ashley squeezed my fingers, "You should eat," she said.

I nodded and asked for the same turkey sandwich they'd provided Ashley with and the milk (notice I left out the green beans and their questionable liquid), and the nurse hurried out of the room to go put in the order for me.

Ashley was staring at me, an unreadable expression on her face.

"What?" I asked.

Tears threatened the corner of her eyes. She smiled and muted the TV. "You," she said, shaking her head, "You're so..." she swallowed, nearly overcome. She drew a deep breath.

"You're so... too," I said.

Ashley squeezed my hand. "You've been my savior since second grade, Nick, and you don't even realize it. Over and over and over again you just keep riding in on your white horse with your shining armor and --"

"I didn't save you," I said, shaking my head, "Ashley, I'm just here."

"Being here is a kind of saving," she answered. "Notice who isn't here."

"That mother fucker better not dare show his face around here," I said.

Ashley looked down at her lap.

"Ash, you should report him," I said quietly. I sat forward in my seat because what I had to say on the topic of reporting Chris was urgent. "Guys like that... they don't deserve to be free."

"I'm afraid to," she said.

"Why?"

"Because. You've seen movies, Nick," she said. And I realized my Secret Window-esque fantasy that kept me from leaving her side was running through her mind, too. "I can't."

"They have restraining orders, they have ways to keep him from ever coming near you again..."

"Nick, again, you've seen the movies. Restraining orders don't do shit. He'll... he'll fucking break into the apartment and kill me or something and..." she shuddered to her very core just thinking about it.

"Move in with me."

"What?"

"Don't go back to the apartment. Move in with me. I'll keep you safe."

"But --"

"I'll protect you. It's not like I'm going anywhere anyways, Ashley, I'm gonna be lonely, and you need someone to take care of you for the next couple days, right? So move in with me."

Ashley stared at me. She clearly didn't know what to say.

"Just say yes," I suggested.

Ashley blinked. "I -- yes," she stammered.




Ashley

The nurse documented my injuries the next day with a camera. Nick got kicked out and I stripped to my panties and bra and stood with my arms apart as she took close-up photographs of the slowly-fading marks on my neck, the welt on my back, the bruises up my legs and my arms and the sides of my face.

I felt violated.

The photos were printed off within the hour and paperclipped into a manilla file.

The nurse introduced me to an officer from the local police department, who asked me to write down exactly what happened, what he'd said to me, what he'd done. Nick was allowed to sit next to me during that part and I saw him reading over my shoulder and I'm pretty sure I heard him whisper, you better run you fucking bastard under his breath - so quiet that the officer didn't hear him - when he'd looked over during my description of my husband kneeling on my arms and attempting to choke me with his bare hands.

Nick got up and paced over to the window, staring out. I glanced over at him. He put his hands down on the sill, leaning heavily on his hands, his head hanging down. All I could see was the curve of his shoulders and his back as he stood there. I don't know why, but he reminded me of a greiving widow.

I pushed the paperwork to the officer who was preparing the kit.

"What happens next?" I asked, nervously.

The officer put the papers into the folder. "I find him," the officer said.

I felt sick. Find him sounded so sinister.

"Take care," the officer said, and he left the room.

Nick was still standing by the window. When Nick turned back, he looked somehow older after the moments he'd spent gazing across the city, and I wondered what he'd been thinking about.
Dr. Scott Edwards knocked at the door before entering. He was holding a clipboard and followed by a posse of younger, less experienced-looking doctors. He came to the end of my bed. Dr. Edwards smiled at me, "You get to leave today Ms. Jackson. Assuming you've made living arrangements?"

I looked at Nick. "Yeah," I said, "I have."

Before: Do You Still Dunk Your PBJ Crusts?


Ashley

I don't know how or when he did it and he never told me (other than to say "it's what happens when you have strings to pull") but by the time we got to his house that afternoon, someone had been in and set up the guest bedroom for me. There were flowers on the side table and fresh yellow sheets and a quilt. The guest bedroom overlooked the ocean view his back yard afforded and there was food in the fridge and the smell of dinner wafted through the house.

His dog, Nacho, had greeted me at the door and followed me onward through the house, bouncing excitedly.

"Hey," I said for like the zillionth time, bending to pat the crazy little pug. "Hello, hello... I've said hi to you like fifteen times, yes I have... yes I have..."

I looked around as I ran my hands over the dog, his skin shaking side to side under my palms. I'd never seen Nick's house so spotless.

Even as I thought the words, Nick dumped his jacket over the back of a chair, kicked off his shoes, leaving them laying in the kitchen, and pushed open the back sliding glass door to his patio. The rush of the ocean sound filled the room. I smirked at the trail of crap Nick had managed to leave behind in less than a minute of being home. Nacho rushed to get out onto the patio, his ears flapping behind him like flags as he hurried out, skidding across the tile on his claws. He bounded down the side steps of the patio, out to the sand and salt water grass below to do his business.

I heaved myself back up from my crouching position - easier said than done, given my girth - and waddled out to stand beside Nick. The ocean seemed to stetch forever. Nick was leaning over the railing, watching Nacho down below. "Get up here!" he yelled at the dog, but Nacho ran the opposite way. "Aw damn it," Nick muttered, and he shuffled down the steps to the sand. I watched as he ran after the dog, sand kicking up behind him as he flapped his arms and crowed, laughing as Nacho bolted back toward the house, narrowly escaping Nick's clutches like a greased pig at a county fair. "Get back here!" he yelled, laughing.

I smiled, watching Nick.

If only things had gone differently, I thought, this would be it. This would be life. Everyday.

Nick spent a good ten-to-fifteen minutes out on the sand, barefoot and chasing after the dog before he finally caught Nacho after he'd dropped belly-up in the sand, tired. Nick scooped him up and carried him upstairs, both of them panting and covered with sand. Nick put Nacho down, and Nacho shook off sand and bulleted into the house, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

Nick's face was flushed from the running he'd just done. He put his hands on his hips, then looked at me. "Well," he said, "Let's get you inside. You want a be--" -pause- "Water?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Water would be good."

Nick laughed. He led the way into the house and pulled out one of the stools at the breakfast bar in his kitchen for me. He walked around and opened cupboards and got out plates and lifted the lid on a crockpot set up in the corner. He stirred it. "Well it ain't poison," he joked.

"What is it?"

He shrugged and scooped it into a bowl. It looked like beef stew. He pushed a bowl across the counter to me and opened a drawer, producing a spoon, which he put in the bowl. "Eat real food," he commanded, "Those sandwiches were like sponges with turkey flavoring." He turned back and got himself a bowl, too, then opened the fridge and produced two bottles of Fiji brand water. He came around and sat beside me on the other stool. Nacho buzzed around our feet.

I felt so natural, like we did this every night, when in fact I don't think I'd ever done anything so normal with him. Certainly not in years at least. I remembered times when we were kids, when we'd go to his house and his mom would have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for us and we'd sit in the kitchen table and dunk our crusts in the milk. I looked over at him, and wondered if he still dunked PBJ crusts in milk.

I was about to ask when he said, "I think you made the right choice today."

I knew he was talking about the kit, about my choice to come clean about what Chris had done to me. I felt like shit about it. I chewed and stared at my bowl. After a moment, I pushed the bowl away. I looked at Nick. "He only did it because he loves me," I said.

Nick almost choked on his food. "What?"

"Chris," I said, "He only did it because he loves me. Because he's afraid of losing me."

"With love like that, who needs hate?" Nick asked.

I looked away. Why couldn't he see the betrayal that I was guilty of? I struggled to my feet.

"Where ya going?" Nick asked, concern in his voice.

I waddled down the hallway, "Bed," I replied, "I'm tired."

Nick watched me go, wordlessly.




Nick

I put the soup away in the fridge and dumped the bowls into the sink. Nacho had trotted off after Ashley and left me alone in the main part of the house. I stood in the doorway at the patio, staring out at the ocean and wondering how Ashley could possibly think that Chris truly loved her, when he'd tried to kill her not even three days before.

I wondered how long it would take the police to find him, if he was stupid enough to go to work or any of the other places Ashley and I had told them that he frequented, like the bar or the apartment or his mother's house. Somehow, as much as I wanted this to go quick and smoothly, I had a feeling Chris was smarter than that.

Ashley's defensive attitude toward him scared me, too, because it frightened me what a hold he had over her. Saying he hurt her because he loved her... I shook my head and wondered how many times he'd had to say that to burn it into her mind like that. And I'd realized that what was missing from her eyes was the fire that she'd always had. Ashley had never been a weak person. She'd always been so strong, and it was devastating to me to see her broken down like this, to see her frightened.

Moreover I began to recognize things that I hadn't when I took her to coffee, or that I had noticed but mistaken for nerves. In the car, I'd reached over to change the radio station and she'd flinched when my hand moved her direction. Like she was afraid I'd been about to hit her or something.

Suddenly Nacho was back at my feet. I crouched down and patted him and he licked my hand before running off and jumping on the couch. Ashley came around the corner a moment later. She looked exhausted and her eyes were red and puffy like she'd been crying. "I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" I asked, confused by the apology.

"I think I just got mad at you," she replied.

I laughed, "You aren't sure?"

Ashley rubbed her eyes. "Well I mean - I can't tell if I'm mad at you or myself or Chris. Maybe all three at once." She sighed. "It's just so complicated. I feel so overwhelmed right now."

"I know. It's a big situation, there's a lot of stuff going on at once, it's easy to get overwhelmed."

"Nick, what does me living here mean?" she asked.

"It means you're safe," I answered.

"No, I mean, like, about us."

I shrugged. "What do you want for it to mean?" I asked.

Ashley put her hands on the back of the couch, leaning. Nacho climbed up on the back of the cushions and snuggled against her hands. She absently patted him. "I don't know," she answered. "I mean, I'm still married."

I nodded.

She was staring down at Nacho as she spoke. "Do you still dunk your PBJ crusts in milk?" she asked.

"What?"

"When we were kids, you used to dunk your crust in your milk," Ashley said. "I was thinking about it before and ...I just was curious."

I shrugged, "I usually cut the crust off now. Nacho eats them."

Ashley rubbed Nacho's head, then turned to face me. "I guess we'll see where this goes."

"I guess so," I answered.

After: Epidural


Nick

"Ashley's chosen you since the day you met her," Chris said.

Silence.

Dead silence.

I stared at his hands. One night, a damn long time ago, Chris and I had been smoking and I'd really noticed his hands. I remember the night clearly - well, as clearly as one can possibly remember a night like that, that is - and I remember thinking it was extremely profound how we all have hands just like that, how we all had these fingernails and knuckles and palms and stuff. I remember studying my own hand, comparing it to Chris's, and thinking how weird it would look if we traded hands, if his hands were on me and my hands were on him. I remember thinking that was weird because really all hands were kinda the same thing. But now, sitting there in the waiting room at the hospital, I realized that not all hands are the same. Not even close.

Chris's hands for example had tried to kill Ashley.

I rubbed the back of my neck and stared down at my shoes, trying to push the image of him choking her out of my mind... mainly because if I kept it there much longer, I was going to have to choke him.

"Funny, ain't it," Chris muttered, "How we've kinda come a full circle here?"

"How so?"

"Well eighteen months ago, Ashley and I sat in these seats worrying as one about you. Today, you and I sit here worrying as one about Ashley," he paused, "About the woman we love."

"Don't. Don't do this," I said, shaking my head.

"Don't do what?"

"Act like you love her. You don't love her."

"I love her," he said defensively.

I shook my head, "You don't, though. If you did, you'd never hurt her. You'd let her go before you'd ever hurt her. You'd let her go because you just want her to be happy, even if that meant your whole life shattering." I swallowed, "You'd walk her down the aisle to marry the other guy if that's what made her happy." I looked down at the floor. "So don't you say you love her because you don't. You posess her, sure. But you don't love her."

Chris shifted in his seat. "Why the fuck didn't you tell her before the night of the wedding?"

"I tried to," I said.

Chris leaned back in his seat. He sighed.

"How could you look at her and strike her?" I asked.

Chris chewed the inside of his mouth. "I don't know. But when I'm mad... damn. It feels good when I'm mad. And it's easy once you do it once. It's like a high. You take a hit, and you can't stop yourself from going back for more."

"You're disgusting."

Chris shrugged.

I looked away from him, rage burning in my stomach. In a messed up way, I understood in the most infantesimal way though: at that moment, it would've been a high to beat the shit out of Chris.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm getting what's coming to me."

I turned back to him, my jaw gritted.

"That doctor guy... Did you see his face when he saw the bruises? No way in hell is he gonna let me walk out of this hospital a free man."

I raised my eyebrow.

"You know he's calling the cops. Or maybe already has."

"So why haven't you run yet?" I asked.

Chris shrugged, "Knowing she's okay is more important."

"She was just fine until you tried to choke her."

Chris looked away.

The double doors leading off to the exam rooms openened and a nurse came out. She wasn't the nurse who'd been with Dr. Jorryn originally, this was a new one. She looked around the room. "Who's here for Ashley Jackson?" she called. Chris and I both stood up and jostled each other trying to get to the nurse first. She looked perplexed.

"Which one of you is the father?" she asked.

"That'd be me," we both said at the same time.

Chris turned to me. "Unless your sperm is in me then I'm pretty sure that would be me," he snarled.

"You wish my sperm was in you," I snarled back.

The nurse clicked her fingers to get our attention back on her. "Which one of you is the actual father? I know it isn't both of you."

Chris grinned gloatingly as grudgingly thumbed at him.

"Okay, now see, that wasn't so hard was it?" the nurse asked. "Come with me," she said, and she led Chris through the double doors.

I swore, loudly enough several heads turned, and kicked the trash bin by the receptionist's desk.

The doors opened again.

"Nick?"

I looked up.




Ashley

Okay so I did not get the memo how fucking huge epidural needles look until the anethesiologist was prepping mine.

I felt my eyes go wide.

"Where exactly does that thing go?" I asked. I don't think they heard me.

The anethesiologist touched my back with an alcohol cotton swab. I jumped. The swab was cold and I hadn't been expecting human contact back there. He had me turned on my side, facing the door, my gown pushed up. I hugged the pillow.

"Where's Nick?" I begged. I did not want that thing shoved up my ass or something without Nick being there.

It was like magic, my asking. The words were only just out of my mouth and the door opened and Nick spilled into the room, his face pale with worry, his eyes wide, hair a mess, shirt flecked with blood and wrinkles from the fight. He crossed the exam room so fast, and grabbed hold of my hands. Dr. Jorryn pushed a chair over for him and Nick grabbed onto it and dropped into it, staring into my eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm getting an epidural for the --" as I was about to say the word pain, one ripped through me and I cried, squeezing Nick's hands in my own. He winced, but didn't complain, and I made a mental not to make a point of thanking him later.

If I made it through this.

"What's an epidural?"

Dr. Jorryn answered, "It's an injection in the lower back to numb the pain she's feeling and will feel during delivery."

Nick looked up at Dr. Jorryn to ask another question, but the anethesiologist was holding up the epidural needle and Nick's eyes went wide. "Mother of crap," he exclaimed. He looked at me, "Don't look."

"I've seen it," I answered.

"Jesus."

"You'll feel a small pressure," the anethesiologist said.

I closed my eyes.

Nick held my hands tight.

I felt like someone was shoving a pen through my back. I grabbed Nick and squeezed my eyes shut, my hands shaking. Sweat was pouring down my face. "Oh God... oh God..." I sobbed.

Nick rubbed my shoulder.

"It's gonna help you feel better," Nick said, leaning his head close to mine. Our foreheads touched. I could smell his breath, feel his eyelashes moving as he blinked. "It's gonna be okay."

"Okay... there... see... needle not so bad, was it?" Dr. Jorryn asked.

"It fucking still hurts!" I wailed. These doctors were quacks. They were giving me placebos. They were trying to torture me. They wanted me to feel every inch of my body tearing open. I wanted to break something.

"It takes just a moment," the anesthesiologist said. "Here, let's have you roll over, it'll help distribute the epidural in the cavity."

"Rolling over hurts!" I wailed.

Nick squeezed my hand, "It's gonna help you, baby, it's gonna help you."

With Nick's reassurance and the help of the two doctors, I rolled my fat self from my right side onto my left. Nick reached around me, hugging me, his chest against my back. He laughed. "What could possibly be funny right now?" I demanded.

"Your tushies showin'."

"STOP LOOKING AT MY TUSHIE!" I cried.

Nick laughed, "Okay okay."

"Close the gown," I demanded.

"I already did," Nick said.

"You did not!"

"Yes I did!"

"I didn't feel you close it," I argued.

Dr. Jorryn smiled down at me. "I guess the epidural's working now."

I blinked.

Well shit! That was a lot better...

Before:


Ashley

I woke up like clock work at 4am.

Normally, I would've climbed out of bed as gingerly as I could to keep from waking Chris, snuck out the door, and padded down the hall to the kitchen. Normally, I would've spent the next half hour preparing his breakfast so that when he got up it was ready and all he had to do was eat, shower, dress, and head off to work at six.

I woke up and rolled out of bed gingerly before I realized I was alone in that bed and that the bed was at Nick's house and that there was no breakfast to make. I felt strangely empty, like my mission in life had been struck void. I went to the door and creaked it open. The hallway was dark. I snuck down it, being extra careful to tiptoe past Nick's open bedroom door. I didn't want to wake him up. I wondered why he slept with it open until I saw Nacho poke his head out the door and look up at me with his big eyes.

I motioned at him to shhh.

Nacho followed me the rest of the way out to the living room and he leaped up onto the couch as I dropped into the cushion. "Oh God I may never get up, Nacho," I said. Nick's couch is like heaven. I'm not even kidding. Even not pregnant his couch is next to impossible to get out of because it's just that soft.

Nacho curled up on my feet as I swung my legs up onto the cushions and he licked my toes for a moment before putting his head down and snoring for the next twenty minutes, louder than you'd think a dog his size could snore. I turned on the TV, keeping it muted, and flipped through the channels until I found a mildly amusing infomercial and proceeded to laugh as two people cluelessly cooked spaghetti and failed to drain it properly, making them the perfect candidates for these new pot lids that doubled as strainers.

It was about an hour later when Nacho leaped up and his ears flopped and he garuffed and jumped down off the couch, abandoning his roost and making my feet feel cold. I heard him tear off down the hallway.

A moment later, Nick emerged from the hallway, his hair standing up at ridiculous angles, wearing only skin-tight boxer-briefs and an undershirt. "Yes Nacho... Jesus, yes, holy crappin' hell dog, like you never been out before... my God..." Nick staggered by, eyes barely open, pushed the back slider door open and Nacho's coller jangled as he ran out. "Go... go... Jesus..." A second later, Nacho was barking like a madman and seagulls flew by the window, cawing in loud disapproval.

Nick turned back around and I got a good look at his full... physique... and felt my mouth go dry. I looked away quickly. Holy shit, I thought. I mean, I've seen... you know... all... of Nick before but it'd been a really long time and honestly last time had been... well... less than conventional... and... you know, dark.

He stood in the doorway and scratched himself.

Well, that was less than becoming.

I closed my eyes. "Nick," I called.

I heard him jump with surprise. "Fuck," he said, and he thundered down the hallway.

Evidently my presence had been unnoticed.

Nick came back down the hall a moment later in jeans and a t-shirt, though his hair was still all messed up. He tried to play it cool, went back to the slider door and stood there, staring out. "NACHO!" he yelled. Pause, then, "NACHO!"

I struggled to sit up. I couldn't.

"NAAAAAAAAAACHHHHOOOOOOO!"

I grabbed onto the back of the couch, and tried to pull myself, but couldn't. "Nick," I whined.

"NAAAAAAAAAAACHHHHHHHHHOOOOOO!!!!"

"NICK!"

He turned, "Whatup?"

"I can't get up."

Nick glanced back at the beach. "Nacho, get your ass up here!" he turned back to me and walked across the room, holding out his hands, "Here." I wrapped my hands around his and he pulled me carefully to my feet, steadying me as I wobbled. Unlike a weeble, I would fall down. "There you go," he said, smiling. Then he returned to Operation Get the Dog Inside.

I couldn't help but wonder why he let the dog out loose like that if he had such issues getting him back in.

"NACHO!"

I went out to Nick's kitchen and dug around in his fridge until I'd come up with everything I needed and proceeded to make breakfast while he yelled for Nacho and eventually went down to the beach for another romp. He came back just as I was putting the last of the eggs I'd just made onto the plate. Nacho was panting, and laid down in the dark hallway, sprawled out. I put the plate down on the bar counter.

Nick looked at it fro where he was standing catching his breath from getting Nacho back upstairs. "What's that?" he asked, sniffing and moving closer, intrigued.

"Breakfast," I said.

"For me?"

"I know I'm fat but I'm not fat enough to eat two plates of this," I laughed.

Nick grabbed the fork I'd put on the counter and leaped onto the stool. "Oh shit, I fucking love breakfast," he said, shovelling food into his mouth.

I smiled, watching him eat, a boyish grin on his face.

And I realized Chris was right.

If Nick asked me to, I probably wouldn't say no... like, to anything.




Nick

I'd barely finished eating breakfast when my phone rang.

"Yo, sup?" AJ.

"Hey," I said. "I'm kind of bu--"

"So have you decided to stop this nonsense and come back yet?" he plowed on. Clearly asking me what's up had been a formality.

"No," I answered. "Quite the opposite, I actually ---"

"You're gonna change your mind, man," AJ interrupted again, "I'm serious."

"Yeah Nick, you have to change your mind," Rochelle said.

Does AJ ever call anyone without Rochelle on the line? I wondered.

"I'm not changing my mind," I said.

Rochelle sighed. "Nick, you can't let the haters get you down. You can't let the fans break your spirit. This is such a huge part of you!"

"Listen to my wise monkey, man," AJ commanded, "She knows what she's talking about."

I sighed, "I'm sorry AJ, it's just not gonna work. I'm just... there's too much going on..." I looked at Ashley, who was still pushing the last of her eggs around on her plate. "Like a lot going on..."

Rochelle piped up, "But it's the Backstreet Boys, it's you guys, it's the five of you. Finally together just to be torn apart?"

"Maybe I'll come back like Kev did, I dunno. Just ...not right now, that's all."

"Nick, do you want more juice?" Ashley asked.

I shook my head.

AJ must've been eating or drinking something because I heard him choke on whatever it was, then hack and spit it out. "Who was that?!" Rochelle squealed.

"...Ashley..." I said.

Rochelle let out a shriek that evidently even Ashley heard because he turned around and tilted her head at me like a dog does when a person plays a harmoica.

"Okay yeah no I gotta go now then bye," I said and I hung up quickly.

I ignored it when they tried calling back a second later.

"What was that?" Ashley asked.

"Rochelle. Being... you know... Rochelle...like..." I replied. I paused. "She saw a mouse or a bug or something."

Ashley laughed, "You sure that was her and not AJ?"

Actually I wasn't but okay.

I laughed.

Ashley poured more juice in her own cup and sipped it. She reached behind herself and rubbed her back. I studied her, taking the last sip of my own juice as I did. Then I realized she was wearing the same stuff she'd been wearing at the coffee house four days ago.

"I'm gonna go get dressed," I said, standing up, "Then we're gonna go."

"What? Where?" she looked confused.

"To get your clothes," I answered.

Nacho followed me down the hall.

Before: Close Encounters of the Worst Kind


Nick

Ashley's apartment was a mess.

I stood in the middle of the dining room, looking around at everything everywhere. The evidence of their fight. I could see blood on the floor, stained into the carpet. It made me sick to imagine that was probably Ashley's blood.

She went into the bedroom to get her things and I stood in the dining room, pacing, waiting for her.

There was a time when this apartment was a second home to me because I spent that much time there. I knew the dips and wears in her couch more than I knew them in my own - I spent just as much time on it and she'd had it way longer than I'd had mine, too. There was a time when I'd just walk into this place and grab food or drinks out of the fridge like it was equally mine. Now I had the distinct feeling of being in a place where I was not only unwanted but where I did not want to be.

"Need any help?" I called up the hallway.

"No I'm okay," Ashley replied. "Chris took all his clothes too."

"So he took off then," I said.

"Evidently."

I paced.

Then there was a sound at the door. I stopped pacing and I walked quickly to the door, pressed my foot against it to keep it from opening, holding the lock steady with my hand, and peeking out the peephole. In the hallway was Chris.

I glanced back at the doors of the dining room.

"Hey Ashley, I'm going out for a smoke," I called.

"Okay," she replied.

I quickly opened the door, stepping into the hall, pushing him backward in one fluid motion, and closed the door behind me. I shoved Chris into the wall across from Ashley's door, and pegged him there, my hand on his chest. "What the fuck do you want?" I snarled.

"I need to talk to Ashley."

"Tough shit."

"She's my wife."

"I'm calling the cops." I pulled out my cell phone.

"C'mon man, she's my wife." Anger flashed in Chris's eyes.

"You're fucking lucky that I don't throw you on the floor and kneel on your chest and choke you with my bare fucking hands," I snapped. "Sound familiar?"

"Is that what she told you?" Chris asked, "That I did that to her? She's lying."

"Don't you dare."

Chris looked at me, blank faced at first, but slowly a snarl grew, his lip curling as he stared at me, "Of course you would be here," he hissed, "What were you, circling like a vulture, just waiting for the moment I was out of the picture to swoop in and steal her?"

"I guess a vulture's an accurate word considering you damn near killed her." I hit send on the LAPD's contact entry on my phone and held it up for him to see. "I hope you enjoy jail."

"Fuck off," Chris spat. He shook me off him and went for the door of the apartment. I grabbed him and shoved him back against the wall. "She is my fucking wife, keep your big fucking nose out of our business."

I got right in his face, "Look Chris, you don't know what it's taking me not to drag you out to the parking lot and end you. You fuck with Ashley, you fuck with me. You hurt her, you hurt me. You break her and you answer to me." My eyes were boring right into his. "You are filth."

Chris stared back into my eyes. "You don't have the balls to kill me."

We stared. His eyes were taunting, teasing, daring...

"LAPD. Can I help you?"

Chris waved his arm quickly, pushing my hand off his chest, and he sauntered down the hallway, his middle finger up in the air as he went. He disappeared down the stairs.

A part of me wished I'd killed him.

A part of me woul always wish I'd killed him.




Ashley

I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, having pulled my suitcase out from under the bed. I'd opened it and added a couple more things to it. In the process of adding things like socks and underwear to the case, I found two things.

The first was the one that should have scared me the most, but somehow seemed less threatening now. It was a box of bullets. It was way in the back of the drawer, on Chris's side, under his socks. My mouth went dry as I stared at the box. I pulled it out and turned it over in my hands. When the hell had he gotten a gun, I wondered.

The second thing was the huge envelope of things that the prison in Kansas had sent me, things that belonged to my father. I hadn't gone through it yet, hadn't even opened it. I'd received a letter telling me it was coming and when it arrived, I'd just shoved it into my drawer and never looked at it again.

I put a hand on my belly looking at the envelope.

If they caught Chris, I realized, my baby might one day feel the pain of getting a letter like I had gotten nearly a year ago, telling me that my father had died in a prison cell. Alone.

And it would be my fault.

"Hey Ashley, I'm going out for a smoke!" Nick yelled.

Normally, I would've yelled at him for smoking. But this time I was too busy staring at the envelope, wrapping my mind around the concept of Chris becoming my father. So instead of saying no, I yelled back, "Okay!"

I heard the front door close.

I took hold of the pull tab on the envelope and pulled it open. The plastic gave way under it and the flap opened and I lowered myself to the floor carefully, my legs sprawled out on either side of me, and dumped the contents of the envelope onto the floor. Several zip-locked baggies fell out, a large manilla envelope and a small, personal sized envelope with scrawly, messy handwriting on the front, spelling out my name, crookedly.

I picked up one of the bags, examining it. Inside was a plain gold wedding band. It looked so much like the one that was on my left hand, just a gold loop with no detail or special markings. I put it aside.

I picked up the next bag, it was an old lighter, like the heavy kind with the flip lid and it was engraved, though the engraving was really old and hard to read because the metal itself had worn so much in that spot, like it'd been used as a worry stone, like it'd been rubbed for years and years and years. I pictured his hand wrapped around it, his thumb running over the engraving over and over and over. I squinted at the engraving. H, with love M.

My mother had given this to him.

I put that one aside and picked through the other artifacts. An old wallet with a license with a photo ID of my father from 1980. Inside was a ten dollar bill and a faded receipt for diapers and milk from a store that no longer existed. An old watch whose battery had died long ago on two-thirty-seven. A polaroid so faded from time that I couldn't even see what it was of in the lighting in my bedroom.

I went with the manilla envelope first of the two envelopes. His messy, crooked handwriting scared me. I was afraid of what he might have had to say to me. I mean, how could it be anything good, after the way I'd stormed out of that jail, those terrible words I'd said to him, blaming him for everything that was wrong in my life. I opened the manilla one first because it was safer. Inside was a stack of paperwork. A death certificate, forms and letters showing the jails he'd been shuffled between over the years, police reports that matched those in my file at the group home.

I heard the apartment door open and close and Nick walked across the apartment, his footfall heavy. He came around the corner and stood in the door way. "Are you almost ready?" he sounded annoyed.

"Sorry," I said, "I'm taking a long time, I'm sorry."

He looked at the stuff all around me on the floor and everything. "What is that?" he asked.

"Things the prison sent me after my father died," I replied. "Things that belonged to him."

Nick glanced back down the hallway, then carefully lowered himself down onto the carpet beside me. He picked up the baggie with the watch and looked it over.

I pushed the paperwork back into the manilla envelope and picked up the letter. I stared at the envelope, at the way his letters looped around on the H, L and Y in my name. At the period at the end of my name. Like I was a full sentence. Ashley.

"What's that?"

"A letter, I guess, from him," I replied.

"What's it say?"

"I haven't looked yet."

Nick's eyes roamed over the envelope. "Well...?"

I shrugged, "I don't know if I care to see."

Nick stared at me. "You gotta open it."

"Why?"

"Because..." he paused. "Ashley, remember when we went to go see that one movie where Tom Hanks is stuck on a desert island and falls in love with the soccer ball?"

"Yeah."

"Remember that one box from the ranch lady there that he never opened?"

"Ugh. I hated that he never opened it. I always wanted to know what was in it," I complained.

Nick pointed at the envelope in my hands. "That is my ranch lady box."

I laughed. "You want me to open it so you know what's inside of it."

"Yes, basically."

I tucked it into the manilla envelope, "Well you're gonna have to wait because I'm just not ready yet." I gathered up all the other things and put them into the shipping container.

"You're killing me smalls," Nick whined.

I wagged my hands at him, "Help me up?"

Nick stood up, and held out his hands to me. I clutched them, and he pulled me up. "Uppppsy-daisy," he said as I got to my feet. We stood there, chest to chest, and I stared up in his eyes, his hands still holding mine. For the briefest moment, I thought we might kiss, and a part of me really, really wanted us to kiss. I wanted to feel his mouth on mine.

But instead he backed away and zipped up my suitcase and uprighted it, and said, "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," I said, "Let's go."

Before: Kick in the Belly


Ashley

I put the envelope on top of the desk in the spare bedroom at Nick's house and left it there. I could tell it was bothering Nick that it hadn't been opened because every morning that week he stopped at my door and looked over at the envelope longingly.

The pattern of me getting up early to relax with Nacho until Nick staggered down the hall a couple hours later to let him then chase after him for 30 minutes outside repeated every day, though Nick remembered to put on sweatpants after the first day. Nick would come help me up off the couch without even being asked before going out after the dog and come back in excited for his breakfast, which I cooked while listening to the sound of his laughter and calls for Nacho through the window.

I liked that I was falling into a routine. I liked that the routine was with Nick.

But there was this nagging, underlying guilt that went with it. And I felt that guilt everytime my baby shifted, every time he-or-she kicked me.

Nick and I were sitting on the couch one night, watching March of the Penguins on TV, Nacho laying across my lap, snuggled into me, when the baby kicked and Nacho sprang up and growled at my stomach. Nick looked over, "The fuck Nacho?"

"The baby kicked him," I said, laughing. Nacho looked warily at my stomach and trotted over Nick's lap and sank onto the small space between Nick's hip and the arm of the couch, his eyes on me, like the baby might come out swinging at him at any moment.

"The baby -- what?" Nick looked perplexed.

"The baby's kicking around in there and Nacho was really close so he felt it," I laughed.

Nick looked at my stomach, he looked up at me. "It's kickin?" he asked, his voice interested in a hesitant this-is-weird kind of way.

"Yeah," I said, "You wanna feel?"

Nick looked like he wasn't sure. He licked his lips, weighing the options, then put the remote down on the coffee table and turned to face me and stuck out his hand and put it on top of my stomach. "Not there," I said, "That's too high." I took his hand and guided it lower... lower...

I saw Nick's eyes widen.

I stopped at the bottom of my stomach and Nick had his eyes closed.

We sat like that for several long moments. Then the baby kicked and Nick's eyes popped open, wide, and a look somewhere between being freaked out and really excited came on his face. It was exactly how I'd always pictured he'd look if he got abducted by aliens - like holy crap but YES THEY DO EXIST!

"Holy shit," he said, laughing as the baby kicked against his hand again, "That's so cool."

I laughed as he leaned closer, like he was trying to see if he could see the kicks or something. "What'cha doing there?" I asked. He had his head in my lap, looking at my stomach.

"I wanna talk to it," he said.

"You going for acoustics?"

Nick laughed. "Hey in there..." The baby kicked back. He grinned. "Hey it's answering me. Think it's speaking in morse code?"

"According to the user manual, all babies come equipped with morse code," I answered dryly.

"There's a user manual?" Nick looked up.

I snorted. "No," I laughed. "I'm just kidding."

"Oh." Nick turned back to my stomach. "Your momma's making funna me," he said.

Kick kick kick.

Nick's grin was wide.

I watched him laying there, talking to my stomach, laughing as the baby kicked imaginary answers to his questions, the creases in his skin around his eyes folding with his smile... and I felt like my heart might explode. In all the months that my stomach had been growing and the baby had been getting bigger and bigger in there, Chris had never once taken the time to do this. The first time the baby kicked and I'd told Chris, so excited, he'd replied, that's creepy as shit and refused to feel the baby.

"I'm your uncle Nick, by the way," Nick was saying to my stomach, "And I'm gonna love you a whole lot, okay? If you're a boy I'll teach ya how to get alla the ladies... if you're a girl, I'll kick every guy who tries to use my moves on you in the nads..."

"Nickolas, don't teach my unborn baby dirty words," I scolded.

Nick laughed, grinning up at me. He leaned back up, on his knees beside me on the couch, hand still on my belly. He leaned forward... eyes closed... and kissed me.

It wasn't a long kiss, or a terribly romantic, wet one or anything like that. In fact, it was rather brief and innocent in nature, and he pulled away only slightly, our lips still touching, his eyes still closed... "You're amazing," he breathed, so softly that I only just heard the words, and I wasn't entirely positive I was meant to. He shifted, backing away completely, sitting back where he'd been on the couch before.

I stared at the TV.

"Ashley," he said. I closed my eyes. I could feel tears burning them, trying to escape. I swiped the tears from my eyes. "Why are you crying?" he asked, "Oh no, did I do something stupid again? I'm sorry," Nick said thickly. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

I turned to look at him, "You're just so... so..."

"What? An asshole? Douchebag? Jerkoff? What am I?"

"Look at you!" I said, and my tone was coming out more angry than I meant for it to, "Feeling the baby kick, talking to it... letting me stay here, feeding me, taking me to get my stuff..." I waved my hand at the TV, "Watching god damn penguin movies with me..."

He looked at the TV, then turned back to me, shrugging. "Crazy? Stupid? Annoying?" He paused, thinking, "Ashley... am I being a dick?"

"You are so fucking perfect."

Nick blinked at me.




Nick

Nacho was scratching at the backdoor, begging to go outside. I got up, peeling myself away from her reluctantly, "I'm coming Nacho," I said. I looked at Ashley, "Need help up before I bring DingDong out?" I asked.

Now that I was up off the couch, Ashley looked... I dunno, sad. She nodded, "Yeah, I think I need to go to bed."

I pulled her up off the couch carefully. It sounds stupid, but I really liked being able to help her in little ways. I liked that she needed me for something. Because Ashley's so strong that it seems like she hardly ever needs anything. I saw helping her off the couch as a priviledge more than a duty. I put my hands on her back to steady her, and I stared into her eyes. "I hope you aren't mad at me," I said.

Ashley shook her head, "I'm not mad at you."

Nacho scratched at the glass door and whimpered. "I'm comin' Nacho, hold on a second," I said. I looked into Ashley's eyes, "Are you okay?"

She nodded.

"You sure?"

Ashley took a deep breath, "I just... I feel... guilty."

"Guilty?"

"Yes, and also happy. But guilty. Mostly happy, though."

I stared at her, "That's a lot to feel at once."

Nacho whined.

Ashley looked at the door, at the sunsetting on the horizon of the water. "How many steps is it to the beach?" she asked.

I looked over my shoulder, "Not many..."

"Can I go out with you an Nacho?"

"Of course you can." I held her hand and led her slowly to the door. Nacho slipped out the moment the door was open enough for him to squeeze through. I grabbed a flashlight off the table by the door and Ashley followed me out onto the porch and we went down the stairs one at a time together to the soft beach sand below. We both kicked off our shoes and walked across the sand, the flashlight illuminating our feet. Nacho ran circles around us, kicking up dirt and barking at the few gulls that were left out there.

Ashley took a deep breath of the salty air.

"So why do you feel guilty and happy?" I asked.

"Because of Chris," she replied. "I'm happy because of you, guilty because of Chris."

I sighed. I hated thinking that she still felt something like loyalty to him, after everything he'd done to her. "My dad hit my mom once," I said.

Ashley looked up at me. "You never told me that."

"It scared the piss out of me," I said. "Literally. I wet the bed for like a week."

"What was the fight about?" she asked.

"My dad had a bad day at work, and my mom couldn't get Aaron and Angel to sleep and Aaron was screaming bloody murder all evening, and my dad got pissed and he was yelling at Aaron to shut up and of course the more he yelled the louder Aaron screamed and my mom told him not to yell at the baby, and my dad just whomped her good right into the wall. Backhanded her, you know?"

Ashley stared up at me. We stopped walking. I shoved my hands in my pockets. I'd never told anyone this before in my whole life. "What happened then?" Ashley asked.

I looked at Ashley. "Well, I told my dad not to touch her again, and he left."

"Nick Carter, protecting women since 1987," Ashley said.

I laughed mildly. Then I looked up at her. "He never did it a second time. He didn't dare to. But my mom said later, when they got a divorce, that was the night she stopped loving him. Because any man who would hit a woman wasn't a man."

Ashley drew a deep breath. "He's just so jealous..." she shook her head. "He just wants me to love him so bad, he'd do anything to make it so, and when I don't, it just... he gets so angry..."

"He can't force you to love him."

"I want to love him like he wants me to," she replied, "At least I did. I wanted to all last year..." Ashley's eyes looked up at me. "Then that night... those twelve hours, Nick... when it was you and me and we drove to Nevada and..." she laughed, "And you bought those condoms..."

"Hey I still have those," I joked.

"I just realized there's nobody in the world that I love the way I love you, you know?"

I stopped chuckling from my joke.

"But I had to love him, because..." she put her hands on her stomach. "You know?"

"For the baby," I muttered.

"For the baby," she nodded, "But he just... I don't know, he knew it was an obligation, I guess, and it was never good. He was just always waiting for me to run away to Vegas with you again, I guess."

"It doesn't make what he did any better," I said.

"No, but it's the psychology behind it," Ashley answered.

Nacho trotted over and sat at our feet, staring up at us, tired from having run in circles while we talked, or else confused because I wasn't chasing after him for once.

"You know my mom stayed with my dad because of Aaron and Angel, and Leslie was young then, too..." I said. "BJ and I were old enough to know better. That's why BJ's so close to my mom. But the younger three, they didn't know what was going on. They only saw the results. My parents fought all the time, and it wasn't worth it because they weren't happy and we weren't happy. Nobody ended up happy."

Ashley bit her lip.

"My point is, if you're happy, Ashley, your baby's gonna be happy, too."

"But a baby needs a father," she said thickly. "I don't want my baby not to have anyone."

"Your baby has me," I said.

Ashley stared up at me.

"You both will always have me."

After: Stuff Started Changing


Ashley

It took about twenty minutes before the vomiting began.

During that twenty minutes, the epidural was great. The contractions were more like mild cramps than full on pain, and I had Nick's hand in mine and Dr. Jorryn came in and checked on me to see how I was doing down there and he said everything was coming along really good.

But then stuff started changing.

It started out like a little bit of nausea and I tugged Nick's hand and waved my arm, "I'm gonna be sick," I choked and before he could even react to my words, I rolled as much as I could - easier said than done when you're paralyzed from the boobs down - and threw up over the side of the bed. He jumped back in surprise as the vomit hit the floor and splashed at his feet.

He looked up at me, and I started crying.

"Oh baby..." he pouted and reached, hitting the call button for the nurse. He walked around the bed and held my hand on the far side from the throw up and rubbed my back. I stayed curled, ready to throw up again over the side of the bed if I had to.

A monitor behind me started beeping.

"What is that?" I asked.

"I dunno, whatever this thingy is," Nick said. I glanced over my shoulder. He was pointing at a big computer-like screen that displayed my heart rate, the baby's heart rate, and a bunch of numbers with codes and blinking lights that I didn't understand.

McKenna peeked into the room, "Hello," she called, stepping around the curtain that blocked me from the outside world. She spotted my pool of sick. "Aw, honey." She picked up the phone and dialed a number, "Hey could you come to Room B in the delivery ward with cleaning supplies?" she asked, and hung up the phone. She pushed my hair out of my face. "We're going to take care of it," she said, smiling into my eyes.

Nick squeezed my hand. "See, baby, they gonna take care of it."

Another nurse, a male, came in the room and motioned for Nick to move, so he stepped around me again and hovered behind McKenna, who was sitting on the edge of my bed. The other nurse started hitting buttons and stuff on the beeping machine until the machine stopped.

"I'm gonna be sick again," I groaned, clutching my stomach. McKenna opened the cupboards under a small sink in the corner and pulled out a pink bucket and stuck it under my mouth just before I threw up again. The barf splashed off the bottom of the bucket and flecks of it hit my face. McKenna handed the bucket to me and disappeared, returning a moment later with a washcloth, which she dampened in the sink, and came over, wiping my own throw up off my face. I looked up at her. "Why's this happening?"

"Your blood pressure is really low," said the male nurse.

"Ashley, this is Gideon," McKenna said. "He's one of the nurses that's going to help later in the delivery room."

"Hey," Gideon said, waving.

"Hi Gideon," I mumbled. I looked at McKenna, "Why is my blood pressure low?"

"It's from the epidural," McKenna explained, "It's normal."

"It's a little lower than average so you're probably feeling more nauseated than most epidural patients, but it is normal," Gideon agreed. He was still pressing buttons.

McKenna was staring up at the screen. She looked back down, at my bucket. "Uhhh... I'm going to call Dr. Jorryn," she said calmly, and she got up, leaving the bucket in my hands. I threw up again.

I stared into the bucket.

Blood.

Nick sat down where McKenna was, holding the bucket for me. "It's okay, baby. She's gettin' Dr. Jorryn, maybe that means it's almost time," he suggested. He looked down at the bucket. Then he looked at me. And for a split second, I saw the fear in his eyes.




Nick

Now I'm not the smartest person in the planet, but I know one thing for sure: It ain't good when you puke up blood.

In fact, I know that it's the opposite of good, it's damn bad.

I tried to be nonchalant about the bucket. I didn't want to scare her. I could see she was scared already, she didn't need me being scared too. So I took a second, looking up at the clock counted to ten with the ticking of the seconds, then stood up and said, "I still like the name Matthew. Or Samantha if it's a girl. What do you think?"

"I hate the name Samantha," Ashley muttered.

"Lucas," I said.

"Nick."

"It can't be Nick, silly, that's my name," I said.

Ashley's eyes filled with tears, "Am I dying?" she asked.

"No," Gideon answered. "Of course not. It's just low blood pressure, that's all." He smiled.

A nurse came in that we hadn't met yet with the cleaning supplies and she sooshed me out of the way while she quickly cleaned up Ashley's puke on the floor. It only took a moment. She had this crazy powder stuff that went on it and just swept up easy. It was the Chuck Norris of cleaning supplies. When she was done, she smiled timidly at Ashley and I, then rushed out of the room.

"She totally recognized you," muttered Ashley.

I laughed.

Ashley looked up at me. "Nick, if I am dying, you promise you'll be with my baby?"

"You aren't going to die."

"Promise me."

"Ashley, I promise you if you die, I will be with little Phin or Mikayla."

"Promise me you won't name my baby Phin or Mikayla."

"I promise that, too." I bent down and kissed her forehead.

Dr. Jorryn came in the room, all but sprinting, with McKenna right behind him. Gideon turned around and I saw a Look pass between the three of them. Dr. Jorryn said, "Hello Ashley, how are we feeling? Is the epidural still helping?"

"I'm throwing up blood," Ashley muttered, "What does that mean?"

Dr. Jorryn said, "Well, that's what I'm here to find out."

Before: For The Baby


Nick

It was a couple days after our talk on the beach and nothing else had transpired between us since the kiss. But I was itching for some more of that action. Everything she did was turning me on. I've said it once and I'll say it again: I'm not the kind of guy that gets turned on by pregnant chicks, but Ashley was seriously rocking it like I'd never seen before. She was absolutely gorgeous and everything she did - every move she made - made me want her more.

I'd gone to buy more groceries and Ashley called me while I was standing in the dairy section putting the yogurts she'd asked for into the shopping cart. "Hey," I said, "I'm getting your yogurt right now."

"Do you have a heating pad anywhere in the house?" she asked, her voice sounded tight.

"Uhh no, why? Are you okay?"

"My stomach hurts," she complained.

"Is that... you know, normal?"

"Yeah, it's just cramps. The baby's been moving around all day and it just has my stomach all nauseated and urghh!" Ashley replied. "But it is normal. I read like twenty websites about it. And the heating pad is one of their suggestions."

"Can I get anything else to help?" I asked.

Ashley was quiet a moment. "I don't think the other suggestions would really help me."

"What were the other suggestions?" I asked.

Ashley was, again, quiet. "One website said sex might help."

We were both quiet.

"I'll get you a heating pad," I answered.

"Thanks," she said.

We hung up.

I walked down the aisle from the dairy, forgetting like seven things on my way by including milk and bread and eggs - three of the cornerstone items I'd been sent to get - and went to the pharmacy and health section. It took me a few minutes to find the heating pads. I picked one up and looked at it. There were like thirty different shapes and intensities. I looked at them cluelessly.

"Can I help you?"

I looked over. A store employee was kneeling on the floor a few feet away, restocking the pain relief pills.

I held up the heating pad, "Pregnant woman has cramps. Suggestion?"

"Congratulations!" he said, and he was so sincere I didn't have it in me to tell him it wasn't my baby. The guy got up and looked at the heating pad. His name tag said Cody. He picked up another heating pad and studied it for a moment. "Hmmm," he said. "Well you can't use a heating pad directly on your abdomen when you're pregnant because you can't raise the core temperature of the baby."

"Core temperature, okay." I nodded.

"So either you need to make sure you wrap this in a blanket or a towel or just warm up the area where she's going to lay down instead of putting it right on her. And it has to be on a really low setting."

"Low setting, got it." I nodded again.

"When my wife was pregnant," Cody went on, "We used an ice compress on her abdomen, then applied the heating pad. The cold made the low setting feel warmer, and actually helped loosen her muscles better than just using the pad did."

"Okay..." I nodded again. Cody handed me the heating pad he held in his hand, "You might consider sex, too," he said.

I stared at him.

"The contractions caused by orgasm actually losen the muscles in the abdomen and might help ease her discomfort," he explained.

Fate was teasing me.

"Thanks," I said. I threw the heating pad into the cart.

"And hey, congrats man," Cody added as I practically ran away.

When I got back to the house, Ashley was in tears, stuck on the couch again, with Nacho laying right by her stomach. "It hurts," she said, looking up at me.

I threw the bags of groceries on the floor in the kitchen and came back out to the living room carrying her heating pad, which I unrolled from the box and plugged in. "Don't put it on yet," I said as she gasped with excitement.

"Why?" she whined.

"Cody said it's not safe."

"What? Who?"

"Cody, he's my bud from the grocery store," I answered. I went into the kitchen and put a handful of ice in a bag and wrapped it in a dish towel. I went back out to the living room. "Here, he said to put ice on you first." I handed the ball of ice to her and shooed Nacho away.

Nacho glared at me as he waddled down the length of the couch, then sat on Ashley's feet.

Ashley held the ice pack I'd made onto her stomach. "Oh fuck that's cold," she gasped as it touched her abdomen.

"Cody said it'll help make the heating pad feel warmer," I said.

Ashley winced as the ice made full contact against her stomach.

Two hours later, alternating between ice and heating pad, Ashley's stomach was still hurting her. I sat nervously on the coffee table beside her, looking at her. I wanted to mention the other remedy, but I didn't wanna sound like a jerk either.

Ashley looked over at me. "Make it stop," she begged, tears in her eyes.

"Should we go to the hospital?" I asked.

Ashley shook her head.

I bit my lip. "Well..." I said.

Ashley's eyes met mine, and it was in that moment that I knew we were both thinking the same thing. "It wouldn't be horrible," I said, "I mean, by way of remedies go, this is better than some of the stuff they used to do, like, you know, spearing people in the head and stuff, right?"

Ashley stared at me. I could tell she was like struggling internally.

I stood up, "I mean, if it helps, right?"

Ashley licked her lips, "And it would be strictly business. I mean, it's not like - you know... more. It's just... for the baby."

"For the baby." I nodded.

Ashley shifted her eyes away from me. "I mean, it's better than the heating pad is for the baby."

"Cody said it was."

"Who?"

"Grocery store buddy."

"Oh yeah." Ashley nodded. She took a deep breath, then looked up at me. "Okay," she said. She held up her hands and wiggled her fingers.

I pulled her to her feet, and we stared into each others eyes as our chests bumped. I leaned down and my mouth pressed against hers, my hand slid to her back, pulling her closer to me. She wrapped her arms around me, too.

"For the baby," Ashley whispered as we pulled apart.

"For the baby," I repeated, as we walked slowly down the hallway to my bedroom, followed by Nacho. I pushed the door opened and used my foot to block Nacho from joining us. "Stay out here, buddy," I said, and I closed the door on him. Ashley walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of it. She looked up at me, her eyes wide with apprehension and... was it excitement?

I stood in front of her. "We don't have to do this," I said.

"No, I want to," she said too-quickly. Then, after a pause, she said, "I mean, I want to, you know, for the baby."

I nodded. "Of course." I helped her onto the bed, and I crawled on, too, leaning over her, staring down into her eyes. She was so fucking beautiful.

"For the baby," Ashley whispered.

"Strictly for the baby," I answered. My hands were shaking as I laid them on her... and thought, this is so not just for the baby.




Ashley


Nick's hands moved across me, igniting my nerves like a wildfire spreading across dry plains. I could barely breathe by the time his fingers had made their way under my shirt, moving across my round stomach to the underside of my breasts. He cupped his hand around my bra, his mouth moving against mine. He was so gentle. He had such wide hands, and long, nimble fingers, I felt like an instrument he was playing. I gasped for air against his mouth and he sucked on my lower lip as he reached behind me and unhooked my bra.

I felt equally dirty and delicious as he pushed my shirt up over my head, exposing my pregnant belly and my chest to the night. He leaned back and pulled my bra away, tossing it over his shoulder. He stared down at me, not at my breasts but at my eyes, his hand returning to cup my bare breast against his palm. He smiled at me, his eyes roving across my face, taking in my features. "I love you so much," he whispered, and the words sounded so sincere, so beautiful...

"I love you," I whispered back.

This was so not for the baby.

Nick licked his lips, a grin playing across his face, lifting even his scarred lip in a way that made him look a little like Elvis. I reached over for the hem of his shirt, sliding it off of him. He assisted, lifting his arms to allow the shirt to come off. Once his chest was bare, I put my hands against it, touching his skin, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed rhythmically. I ran my hand down his arms, over his biceps to his elbows and back up again until I'd laced my fingers together behind his neck and pulled him closer so I could kiss his neck. He hummed a moan, and I felt the vibration of his voice box against my lips at his adam's apple. I kissed his chin.

Nick pulled away again, and he crawled backward, untied the drawstring on my sweatpants and slid them off my body. He laughed when he saw my underwear. They were black with a bright yellow Batman symbol on the front. He bent down and kissed my knee and a quiver ran through my body, like he'd electricuted me. He laughed at my reflexive movement. "Sensitive," he commented.

"You're powerful," I replied.

Nick laughed again, his eyes sparkling. He leaned forward and hooked his fingers around the sides of my underwear, pulling it down so that I lay there, naked in all my pregnant glory before him. I have no idea how he could possibly think I was sexy when I looked like a beached whale, but the look in his eyes told me that he found me sexy. And the look in his eyes made me feel sexy, against all odds.

I pointed at his jeans, "Your turn, Mr. Carter," I said.

Nick slid off the bed, reaching for the button of his jeans. He paused, looked at me, and shook his hips in a gyro as he unbuttoned it. "Look," he said, "I'm Magic Mike."

"Magic Nick," I corrected him.

He let the jeans slide down his hips and off his body and he stood there in boxer-briefs that clung to his thighs and profiled his manhood. He reached for the strap of those but I shook my head, "Come closer," I commanded.

Nick took a couple steps forward until he was pressed against the mattress. I reached out and ran my hand along his thigh. He groaned and his hips instinctively thrust forward into my hand. His eyes were rolled up, his mouth open. I crawled as best I could - which wasn't very well or graceful, by the way - to the edge of the bed and reached for the waistband of his shorts. I pushed them down, my hand gliding across his ass to his thighs. The soft cotton dropped to the floor and he was freed, right there in front of me, all of him for the taking. I looked up at him as my hands grasped him and he bit his fist to keep from shouting. I smiled.

It only took a few moments of touching him before he was hard as a rock, the muscles in his thighs tight as he stood there, panting above me. I let go of him and slid my hands up his sides to his chest again, running my fingernails along his skin. His body seemed to roll with my touch, pushing forward the part I was touching.

His eyes opened, and he had a hungry, excited look in his eyes, and I knew he was about to take me completely. And I was so damn ready for it. I relaxed into his grip as he wrapped his arms around me and crawled onto the bed, turning me with him. He leaned over me, his arms at full extension to keep him hovering above my stomach. He stared down into my eyes, and knelt between my legs, his hands pushing me apart. He crawled backwards and he dipped below the horizon of the orb of my stomach, and a moment later I felt his mouth on me, and my entire world seemed to shatter around me. I tried to grab hold of him, but I couldn't reach him around the baby bump. My heart was pounding so hard it throbbed in my ears.

"Oh God Nick," I moaned.

I swear it was like seeing stars bursting forth in the heavens, like a cold rain in the middle of the dead heat of winter, the kind that makes you wanna dance through the puddles and twirl around with your arms outstretched to catch the diamonds of water falling all around you. It was like flying, like shooting through outerspace.

My mind couldn't even wrap around the waves of pleasure that washed over me, rocking my body, shaking me to the core.

And then he was there, hovering above me again, his beautiful face focused solely on me, our eyes locking, his hands bracing himself up. I felt him slide into me and I brought my legs up around his waist, claiming him as mine by tightening around him, seizing him as my own. He licked his lips again and I reached up and ran my hands across his face, holding it steady to stare up at him. He had sweat across his brow as he moved in and out of me, his eyebrows cinched together in concentration, his eyes rolled back up. I ran my hands down to his neck, kept one hand there and put the other on his shoulder. I carefully massaged his neck as he moved.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, but it was perfect. Every moment of it was perfect. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't have to. I was Nick's and Nick was mine and everything else in the entire world had faded away. Nothing else mattered, so long as Nick was there. I felt safe, like nothing could hurt me because Nick would not let it. I felt beautiful for the first time in so long...

Nick grunted and stopped moving, his arms shaking, his face melted from the look of determined focus to an unearthly calm, and he let out a moan that would've sent any woman over the edge with its musical beauty. I gasped, feeling him climax, hitting my breaking point, too, and he collapsed to my side, shaking and gasping, curling up against me, his breath hot against my skin. My hands shook as I reached over to touch him, to rub his arm, to recover him. He swallowed, and peeked at me from the folds of the pillow his face was half sunken into. He smiled weakly, crookedly.

"You are the most amazing man in the entire world," I whispered.

Nick's smile widened and his eyes twinkled, even as the lids fluttered, threatening to fall asleep. "You are.. so.. beautiful," he said between gasps of air. He reached around me and pulled me closer, accommodating for my stomach my further curling around me. He kissed my nose, my cheek, then laid back so that he was once again half hidden in the pillow.

"I love you," he whispered.

But before I could even try to reply, he'd fallen asleep in my arms.

"I love you so much Nickolas," I whispered, stroking his hair.

Before: Gun Shot


Nick

I woke up to the sound of Nacho scratching the bedroom door. I opened my eyes and there was Ashley. My heart about stopped. It had felt too perfect, too much like a dream, and I think some part of me had convinced myself that it had been. I stared at her, breath caught in my lungs, heart shuddering. Nacho continued scratching. I inched backward slowly, disentangling my legs from around her legs, and I crawled off the bed carefully and snatched my boxers off the floor as I snuck out the door.

In the hallway, I pulled my underwear on as I followed Nacho toward the living room. He bounced happily along like he was a rubber ball until we got to the slider door and I let him out. I heard him scramble down the steps.

I turned back into the house and opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of juice, which I unscrewed the cap on and drank, staring at the red digital numbers on the microwave informing me it was a little after midnight.

I stuck my head out the door and looked around. "Nacho," I called quietly. I hoped he'd just come back in and make this easy on me. I didn't really feel like parading myself out on the beach front with my boxers in the moonlight and I didn't want to wake Ashley up, either. "Naaacho..." I hissed.

I stepped out onto the patio. "Nacho." My voice was more firm.

To my left, in the taller grasses that line the slope behind my house, the grass that lined the steps down to the beach, I heard something moving, coming closer.

"Nacho," I snapped.

The lil fucker was like right there and not coming.

Then I heard him barking.

And he was not right there. But something else was.

I froze, torn between two instinctive urges. One, go get Nacho before whatever it was got him, and two, run like fuck back into the house.

Before I could decide which to do, I heard Nacho at the foot of the stairs, growling and barking loudly.

There was a gun shot that echoed across the backyard.

Nacho stopped barking.

My heart stopped and I bolted down the stairs. There was footfalls right in front of me, though it was too dark to see anything other than a vague shape moving ahead of me.

Following it was probably not the best of the two instincts to follow, given what I'd just heard, but I couldn't stop myself. "NACHO!" I yelled, and I tripped and fell about halfway down, eating sand. I saw the footsteps in the sand leading off around the far side of the house and I saw Nacho. He was bleeding but he was alive, so I scrambled to my feet and I picked him up and ran back up the stairs.

Ashley was in the kitchen, eyes wide, only my t-shirt on. "What the hell was that?" she gasped.

"Someone fucking shot Nacho," I gasped, putting him down on the table. Nacho was bleeding. He looked panicked. I held him down, trying to look at him, to see how bad the wound was, to figure out what the hell I could do to fix him. "Hey, lay still, lil buddy," I begged him as he struggled, trying to get up. "We gotta get dressed," I said, spinning on my heels, "We gotta call the cops. We gotta take him to the vet. There's a 24-hour clinic across town." I scooped him up, not wanting to leave him alone on the table, "We gotta call the cops. We gotta take him to the vet," I repeated, panicking. Ashley followed me to the bedroom and I put Nacho down on the bed. He wasn't struggling as hard and I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, but my hands shook as I pulled my pants on over my boxers and grabbed a new shirt out of the closet as Ashley struggled with her sweatpants.

"Can you hold him in the car?" I asked, "So I can drive."

Ashley was standing by the bed. She looked over at me. "Nick."

"We gotta get him to a vet, he'll be okay."

"Nick."

I was pulling blankets out of my closet. I knocked over a bunch of shit, and it tumbled down all around me, making a big mess on the floor. I took the blanket over to the bed.

My throat constricted.

I closed my eyes.

I shook my head.

"No."

"Nick," Ashley's voice was gentle.

"NO!" I yelled. "WAKE HIM UP!"

"Nick, I can't."

"PLEASE!"

"Nick... I'm sorry..." Ashley was crying now.

I threw the blanket on the floor and left the room.

I couldn't quite wrap my mind around what had just happened. I walked quickly back out to the living room, then back to the bedroom door, turned, and started pacing the hallway. Who the fuck would ---

I turned back into the bedroom. Ashley was sitting on the bed, crying. She'd wrapped him in the blanket I'd thrown on the floor. He was just this bundle of blanket now.

"Does Chris own a gun?" I asked.

Ashley looked up, the answer written all over her face.




Ashley

"We can't stay here," Nick said.

"Where the hell are we going to go?" I wailed.

Nick started grabbing things out of the closet, tossing them into a duffle bag. "I dunno we'll go to AJ's for tonight, I dunno where after that. We'll figure it out. We can't stay here though." He threw a bunch of stuff into the bag. "We need to call the cops."

I could hardly breathe, my sobs were deep in my body, they seemed to be tearing open my internal organs. "But Nick --"

"There's no way in hell I'm resting while I know he's out there with a gun," Nick said, his hands and voice were shaking.

"Nick, this is all my fault..." I cried.

"It's not your fault, it's that fucking psychopath," Nick said. "I can't believe he would ---" his eyes landed on the bundle that was his dog on the bed. He closed his eyes. His voice shook. "He would've shot me if it wasn't for Nacho barking."

I felt sick at the thought of it.

"Nacho saved my life," Nick said thickly.

"I'm scared to go outside Nick," I whimpered. "I don't think we should go. I think we should stay here. We should call the cops and stay right here."

"The car's in the garage. We don't have to go outside. We'll call the cops from the road."

"The garage is easy enough to break into, I broke into your garage," I said.

"I can't. I can't just -- we can't just stay here," Nick said, "What if he gets in? There's no telling what he'd do --"

"Nick!" I wailed, "Stop! You're scaring me worse."

He paced. Back and forth and back and forth. "Who the fuck sold that crackhead imbacile a gun anyways," he muttered, "Who the fuck..."

"Nick, please."

"Ashley... I have to protect you." Nick came over to me, put his hands on my shoulders, stared into my eyes. "What if it was you that was letting Nacho out tonight? What if I hadn't let Nacho out at all? What if he got into the house? Ashley... he's crazy, I wouldn't put nothin' past him... And... if anything ever happened to you...if I ever lost you....I would die. I would seriously... I would cease to live. There'd be no point."

I felt my throat close up.

"Now please," he said, "Let's get your things, and let's go. Because I can't just sit here and wait and see what happens. I need to get you out of here, I need to get you safe."

I nodded because I didn't know what else to do.

Before: Emergency Cigarettes


Ashley

Nick was seriously scaring me. He was an emotional wreck. I literally don't think I'd ever seen him act this way before in all of the years that I've known him. He rushed me out into the garage, body-blocking me the way his bodyguards do at concerts, and he made me duck down in the car as much as I could, made me cover my head. He ran to the driver's side and opened the garage door and backed up down the driveway so fast I felt like I was on some kind of crazy ass amusement park ride. His tires squealed on the pavement of the street as he turned and drove away.

I stared back at the house, at the open garage door, at the sliver of the ocean visible from the front yard, and I wondered where Chris was, if he'd intended to kill Nacho, if he'd intended that bullet for Nick or for me or if he'd even intended to shoot the gun at all or if it was just a negotiation tool.

There was no telling.

Nick drove in a crazy pattern, making loops around city block as we travelled north toward AJ's house. He kept muttering about losing him, getting him off our trail. When he was sure we weren't being followed, he drove quickly to AJ's, and called the cops as he drove. I clutched the handle over the door and kept my hand on my stomach. I really, really had to pee. The baby was sitting on my bladder, but I knew there was no stopping Nick at this point. He'd be as likely to let me into a public restroom alone right now as he would be to spontaneously combust, and honestly I think combustion was more likely given his current state.

When we finally got to AJ's house, Nick practically leaped out of the car, helped me out, and, doing the body-blocking thing again, he led me up to the front door. I put my hands on my stomach and twisted my legs, jiggling, trying to hold it, because I mean my back teeth were floating for crying outloud. Nick knocked violently, urgently on the door. He kept glancing back over his shoulder.

"Nick he's not coming here, relax," I begged him.

Nick didn't reply. He knocked again, even harder and more urgently. If he knocked much harder, his knuckles would probably break. Or he'd break the door maybe or something.

It took a few minutes, but finally the door opened and AJ was standing there in these stripey pajamas like they wore in 50s sitcoms. He stared at us for a long moment. "What the fuck...?" he asked.

"Let us in, I'll explain inside," Nick said. AJ stepped out of the way and Nick ushered me in quickly, "Close the door," Nick snapped.

AJ raised an eyebrow and closed it, locked it when Nick glowered, and followed us as Nick pushed me further into the house.

"Bathroom," I begged.

AJ pointed, "Down that way, third door on the left."

I bolted down the hallway he'd indicated. I pulled open the bathroom door and hurried inside. It wasn't until after, when I was washing my hands, that I really started letting everything sink in. And by everything, I mean everything. I mean, I'd woken up to the sound of the gunshot, naked in Nick's bed. I'd gone from severe stomach cramps to incredible sex with Nick to utmost horror hearing that gun shot -- I'd thought for sure it was Nick when I heard it, I thought for sure when I got to that kitchen I would find Chris -- to AJ's house. I felt dizzy at the recap. I turned on AJ's sink and splashed my face with water.

There was a knock on the door.

I opened it. Rochelle was standing there. She ducked into the bathroom and closed the door again. "Are you okay?" she asked, worry in her eyes.

I nodded.

"Nick just told me and AJ what happened," Rochelle said. She looked me over. "Ashley, I'm so sorry. I knew Chris was being controlling, but I didn't know he was hurting you." She had tears in her eyes. "You must be so scared."

I nodded.

"Oh honey.. c'mere." Rochelle wrapped her arms gingerly around me. And I bawled like a baby because it was the closest thing to a hug from a mom that I'd had in years. I pressed my face into her tattooed shoulder and she rubbed my back as she spoke, "I can't even imagine how scary this all must be for you. It must be so hard..."

"I keep thinking if I'd just go back to him this craziness would stop and everyone would be safe," I sobbed, "If I'd just gone back before, Nacho wouldn't be dead.."

Rochelle's voice was concerned, "No... No," she said firmly, then, "No."

"But if I was just with him, he wouldn't be stalking around Nick's house in the middle of the night, he wouldn't be trying to get to me, he'd have me and he'd be happy..."

Rochelle shook her head, "Sweetie, you can't go back to him and magically fix everything, it doesn't work like that."

I was shaking. "But he's after me, right, I'm what he wants, so maybe it's better if we just let him have me, like a sacrificial thing. I don't know."

Rochelle guided me so I was sitting on the edge of the bath tub, and she sat on the closed toilet lid. She had her hands on my shoulders, "No," she said, "You are not some sacrificial lamb, Ashley."

"It would be so much easier, and I'm not important, not as important as you guys being safe," I choked.

Rochelle shook her head, "You have no idea how much you mean to Nick if you think for even one second that's true. He called us up almost everyday last year asking for advice about how to tell you he loved you. After he ran out of the wedding, me and AJ had to pick the guy up off the front lawn of the church. I'm not even kidding you. He's been a wreck since you've been gone. That man loves you so much that he let you go because he wanted you to be happy, and then he finds out six months later that you aren't happy... and I mean that's all I knew about it before tonight, but I knew he was devastated that you were unhappy. That's all that man wants in the world is your happiness..."

I felt a tear cross my cheek. "Chris said that's all he wanted, too," I croaked the words.

"Chris loved you at one point, but something's changed in him, sweetie, and I don't think he is capable of doing anything more than hurting you now." Rochelle's voice shook. "There's no love where there is fear because love does not cause fear."

My throat ached.

Rochelle pulled me into her hug again. "So don't even talk about going back. Please. We all love you too much for that."

I nodded.




Nick

AJ was sitting on the third step up on the stair well. I was pacing the foyer. He was staring at his feet. "I can't believe he shot your dog," AJ muttered. He was patting one of the member of his menagerie as he said this.

I couldn't even think about Nacho right now. I felt so sick to my stomach at the thought that the last thing I'd thought about the lil guy was that he was a lil fucker for not coming in the house. I hated the thought that I'd never run after him on the beach trying to get him inside or hear him bark at the TV when someone said "hello" in just the right tone. I doubled my pacing time.

"Nick, sit down," AJ pleaded, "You're gonna get dizzy man."

"I can't sit," I said.

"You're so high strung right now, Jesus," AJ muttered. He looked around. "C'mon."

"What?"

"Come with me." AJ said. He went out to the kitchen, grabbed a box off the top of his fridge, opened it to reveal a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and waved for me to follow him out the back door. We stepped into AJ's wide backyard and we sat down on these squat, yellow plastic chairs beside a plastic kitchen that had a bunch of plastic food scattered across the plastic counter and on the ground. AJ lit up and handed the pack and the lighter to me. "Rochelle made me quit, but this is the emergency pack," he explained.

I lit the cigarette and took a long drag.

I already felt better.

AJ leaned back, tipping the plastic chair under him.

"So how's it been going? Like before tonight obviously. It's hell, the pregnant ladies, ain't it? Rochelle was so emotional when she was knocked up, it was crazy man..."

"You were emotional too," I accused.

AJ grinned.

"Actually... we um. We had sex. Tonight. Before."

AJ sat forward, the chair clunked on the patio. "No shit, get out, did you?"

I nodded.

"What's that mean?" AJ asked. "Are you like, you know, together now?"

I shrugged, "I don't know."

"Did you say shit, like that you could maybe be together? Did you guys talk about it or just you know do it like wild rabbits?"

I laughed, "AJ..."

"I need to know this shit, man."

"Well she had cramps and the guy at the pharmacy said the heating pad wasn't the best solution but that sex works and we tried a heating pad but it didn't work and so... we kinda decided sex was an okay remedy... and... we said it was just for the baby, to stop the cramps but..." I bit my lip.

AJ's eyes were wide.

"I told her I loved her."

"Like during?" AJ whispered.

I nodded.

"Oh shit, Nick, it's about fucking time you two hooked up. It's about fucking time." He leaned back again, grinning, "Ohhh shit."

I took another drag off the cigarette, a long one, and puffed the smoke out slowly.

AJ looked over at me. "So where are you guys gonna go?"

"I don't know," I answered.

"Well you're welcome to stay here," he offered.

It was tempting, but then I looked around the backyard, at Ava's toys everywhere, and I thought about how AJ and Rochelle just open their back door and let her out to play and how I'd done the same with Nacho and the thought scared the shit out of me and I shook my head, "No. We can't stay here. In fact, I'm not even sure we should've come here at all." I stood up.

AJ stood up, too, "What? Of course you can come here. We're family, bro."

"Yeah, I know," I said, "But Chris knows that, too."

AJ stared at me.

"I'm sorry," I said, "We need to go to a hotel." The panic was starting to set in again. I threw my cigarette down and scraped it out with my toe.

AJ followed me into the house once he'd put out his own cigarette, and I went to the bathroom door and knocked and Rochelle called, "Be right out."

AJ leaned against the wall. "Did you call the cops?"

I nodded. "On the way over."

The bathroom door opened and Rochelle and Ashley came out, both bleary eyed. Ashley looked me over, then came over and wrapped her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. I squeezed her closer to me, laying my cheek against the top of her head. She felt so soft. "We gotta go to a hotel," I said quietly.

Rochelle sniffed AJ. "Have you been smoking?"

After: Kaleidoscope


Nick

The room exploded with activity.

And everything happened so fast from that point. It was like a kaleidoscope of color and sound and blood. So much blood.

Within seconds, Dr. Jorryn was joined by about fifteen other doctors and they were all jostling to get closer to Ashley first. I got shoved back and my fingers lost contact with Ashley's and I heard her crying out my name but there was nothing I could do to get over to her. I felt helpless, standing about three feet away as the doctors crowded around her, holding her plastic bucket with the blood and vomit in it. I put the bucket down on the counter, unable to stand the smell of it any longer, my heart racing.

"Please, God," I whispered, "Don't take her. Please." I closed my eyes. I've never been one for praying, but this, this was worth praying for on the off chance that someone was out there to hear it when I prayed.

Scary words were being tossed around. Words I didn't understand the meanings to. I've never seen so many doctors in one room before. I wondered if this is what it had looked like when I finally arrived at the hospital after the plane crash, those foggy hours between Dave the EMT and Cynthia the nurse. I wanted so bad to launch myself over the crowd of them, grab Ashley and run her to safety.

Of course, given recent events, I wasn't exceptionally good at keeping her safe.

"We'll have to open her up and get the baby out of the way, then we can stop the bleeding..." Dr. Jorryn was saying, and I saw Gideon getting a tray with scary looking tools and my heart about stopped.

"What's happening?!" I shouted, "What's happening!" None of the doctors heard me. They kept on with their frenzy. They were like pigeons in New York over a spilled pack of french fries from McDonalds. "Please!" I yelled, "Someone tell me what's happening!"

Suddenly the door banged open behind me and, of all people, Chris rushed into the room, breathless.

I looked over at him. "What the fuck is happening?" he asked.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I demanded.

"I had to know she's okay," he replied. "That I didn't.... kill her...."

I was about to lunge at him becaus it felt like the only thing left for me to do in this god-forsaken moment, when McKenna came running over from the clusterfuck going on around Ashley. "We need to get you boys out of here," she said in a rush.

"NO!" Chris and I both yelled at the same time. "I'm not leaving," I added, hurriedly, "I refuse. She's calling me."

McKenna's eyes were serious, "We have to open her up, this is already a really dangerous situation, your presence is only complicating things."

"Please!" I begged, "I can't leave her."

"And I can't go back out there," Chris said, thumbing over his shoulder.

McKenna looked at him, "I thought -- but they called --"

"You thought I was already arrested, right? Yeah. Well. I needed to see Ashley first."

"Arrested?!" I looked between Chris and McKenna.

"Yeah they called the cops. That nurse that came out earlier, she was bullshitting us. She was leading me into a fuckin' ambush." Chris glowered at McKenna. "I'm not leaving until I know she's okay. I can't wonder for the rest of my life in prison."

"Maybe you should, you fucking bastard," I growled.

"Boys," McKenna snapped, "I seriously need both of you to --"

"McKENNA!" Dr. Jorryn yelled, "Get over here! We need hands -- NOW!!"

She turned and bolted to the bedside. I heard a collective panic rise through the doctors. "What's happening!" I shouted, and I forgot about Chris because he didn't even matter at this point. My sole purpose in life was to get to Ashley. I ran for the bed, trying to push between doctors, trying my damnedest to get to her because it suddenly occurred to me, louder than any other noise in the room, that Ashley was silent.

"ASHLEY!" I yelled, "ASHLEY!"

But she didn't answer.

Then the ongoing beeping from that damn monitor stopped.

And the doctors all stepped back, hands up, and I heard Gideon yelling, "Charge it to two hundred!" There was a cry, but it wasn't Ashley's... it was a baby cry. And Dr. Jorryn ran past me to the corner of the room where there was a teeny tiny bubble of a bed, clutching something small and covered with blood in his hands. McKenna went with Dr. Jorryn. Gideon was holding up paddles, and the screen was showing one solid flat green line.

I could see her through the break in the crowd of doctors, her head turned to one side, eyes closed, mouth partially open like she'd been in the middle of saying something.

"ASHLEY!" I bellowed. "DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME!!"

Before: Someday You'll Be Like Frank Barrone


Ashley

We got a hotel on the far side of Los Angeles. Nick called his security guard buddies and asked one of them to come watch out for us, and by the time we got to the hotel room, Jason was already outside of the room. "Everything okay?" he asked Nick as he dragged both our bags down the hall.

Nick shrugged, "I'm tired, man."

"Well get some sleep," Jason said, "I got your back."

I nodded a hello Jason's way and he nodded back, smiling apologetically, and Nick led the way into the room. He ditched our bags by the door and walked in and sat down on the bed. "Jesus Chris," he muttered, throwing himself onto the mattress.

There were two beds. I stood in the doorway, hovering, unsure what the protocol was at this point. Did I get back in bed with Nick, or did we go back to being in separate beds? I watched as Nick kicked off his shoes. He looked over at me. "What'cha doing?" he asked.

I ran my hand along my forearm. "I don't know which bed to get into," I mumbled.

Nick stared at me for a long moment. "Whichever one you want to," he replied. I wanted to get into Nick's bed. But I wasn't sure that was right. I stood there longer. "Ashley, it's okay. Just do whatever you want to do."

"I want to sleep with you," I said.

Nick smiled. "Then get over here." He patted the bed.

I got up next to Nick and laid down, and he curled up against me, his head on my chest, his arms around me. I stroked his hair. I closed my eyes, wanting to rewind and make this be those first moments after the sex, when everything was perfect and wonderful and he was telling me he loved me before he fell asleep. My fingers stroked through that beautiful blonde hair of his like they were moving through water and I lingered on the smell of him.

"Ashley," he whispered.

"Nick?"

"Are we... together?"

I was quiet. "I think so."

"Are you gonna marry me?" he asked, "I mean, not right now, I mean someday. After.

"Yes."

I heard him let out a sigh of relief.

"You're gonna ask me again, right?" I said, "Like, really ask me?"

"Do you want me to?" he asked.

"Yeah. When it's time to, not right now."

"Okay."

"I mean right now I'm still married to Chris."

"Yeah."

"But when it's time to, please ask me again. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And I'll say yes then, too."

"I can't wait."

"Me either."

We were both quiet for a long time. It's funny because that was probably one of the most meaningful, huge conversations that Nick and I ever had in our entire lives, and it was also one of the most awkward feeling things at the time. I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad or excited or scared or ...any other mixture of things that I could be. I just knew that I was in a bed, with Nick, in a hotel room, far away from what was everyday life as I'd once known it.

"I'm sorry," I said, "About Nacho. I feel responsible."

"You aren't responsible," Nick whispered. His throat caught around the words, though, and I know that hearing Nacho's name had stung. "He was a good dog, wasn't he?" Nick choked.

"The best," I replied.

My fingers were still woven through Nick's hair. He moved his head so that his face was pressed into my chest, and I felt him shake, and I realized he was crying as warm tears hit my skin, soaking through my shirt. I wrapped my arms around him, just holding him to me because I didn't know what else I could possibly do. There's a very limited number of times I've ever seen Nick cry, like really cry.
"I just wanna be happy with you," he mumbled, his voice muffled by my chest. "Is that really so much to ask?" His body shuddered against mine.

I leaned down and pressed my face into his hair.

"Someday," I whispered, "When we're real old and sick of each other and stuff, I'll remind you that all you wanted in the world was to be happy with me."

"You won't have to because I'm never gonna forget that," Nick replied.

"Someday you'll be like Frank Barrone and wanting to ship me off to the nursing home," I laughed.

Nick shook his head, "I'd rather die than be without you for even just a minute."

We were both quiet, and I thought that he might've fallen asleep. But then a thought came to me and I whispered, "Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you be my baby's father?"

He rolled to look up at me. "Really?"

"Yeah. You'd be the perfect father for my baby."

The grin spread slowly across his face, and fresh tears filled his eyes, but I had a feeling maybe they weren't bad tears this time.




Nick

It felt weird not getting up to bring Nacho out the next morning, when we finally woke up at almost noon. We had room service delivered and I thanked Jason for standing by for us before he took off. Now that it was daylight, my wits were returning and I felt like panicked than I had the night before, and Ashley and I agreed it would be best to go back to the house that afternoon.

We ate breakfast on the beds, and watched TV, and laughed a lot. It was like some pressure I hadn't realized was there was off of me. Ashley had all but answered my future and now it was just a matter of waiting for it to come, and I felt so happy for the first time that even the threat of Chris didn't seem like such a big one anymore. It felt like, finally, we might make it.

When we got back to the house, there were two cruisers parked in the driveway. I helped Ashley out of the car and we went inside. I opened the back door and found a cop snooping around in the grass by my stair well. "That's where he was," I said, stepping out onto the patio.

The cop looked up. "Nick Carter?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied. I trotted down the steps toward him.

The cop held up a striped sweatshirt, "Does this look familiar?" he asked.

Ashley was suddenly behind me, "That's Christopher's," she said.

"It was here in the grass, looks like it was left behind when he fled. We'll enter it into evidence," he said, and he put it into a big clear bag that he pulled out of his pocket.

"Did you find anything else?"

"We followed the footprints off about a mile down the waterfront, then they cut through a backyard and we lost trace of them from there, but it doesn't look like the gunman stuck around." He paused. "You said he fired a shot?"

"He killed my dog," I replied.

The officer looked stricken, "I'm sorry, man," he said.

I swallowed back emotion, "He came out of the grasses there, onto the landing of the steps... about here..." I stood where I'd seen the vague shape of Chris. "And Nacho came running up the beach... he was barking at him, and growling, and Nacho's what tipped me off Chris was there at all, and Nacho got right to the end of the steps and Chris just shot the gun at him. I panicked and kind of lunged forward from where Ashley's standing now and Chris ran when I started forward and when I got to the landing here, I fell and went down the last few steps. I landed in the sand next to my dog and Chris was already fleeing down the beach by then..." I sighed. "I just took Nacho inside, I thought Chris was gonna wrap around the house and come in the front or something. I was worried about Ashley."

"There's no evidence that it was for certain Chris," he said slowly, "There's no record of Chris owning a gun. We ran everything we could trying to confirm it was him."

"He owns a gun," Ashley piped up. "I found extra bullets at the apartment."

"Is there anyway we could get in there and get those bullets to submit them as evidence?" The officer asked.

"Let me get my keys," Ashley answered, and she waddled into the house.

I looked at the cop. "You're gonna get him, right?"

The cop nodded. "And as long as she still wants to press charges when the time comes, he's looking at a good long time in jail."

Ashley came back out onto the porch a moment later, struggling with her keyring. She pulled the apartment key off and held it out to the officer, "Here," she said, "They were in the top drawer of the dresser in our bedroom, under his socks."

The officer slid the key into the breast pocket of his uniform, and pulled a couple of business cards out of the same pocket, which he handed one of to each of us. Office Gene Thomas, LAPD Case Investigator the card read. "In case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call me directly." He tipped his cap and whistled and another cop I hadn't noticed came out from under the porch. "Let's go, Douglas."

"Stay safe," Douglas said to us as he passed by, headed around the side of the house.

"Thanks," I replied.

Officer Thomas took a deep breath, "I hate to ask this, because I know it's hard... but... could we take the dog as well? We need to retrieve the bullet... run some ballistics...."

I felt my throat tighten. "Will you... bring him back... so we can bury him?"

Officer Thomas nodded.

"Okay. He's inside." I led Officer Thomas up the stairs and through the house to the bedroom door. I stopped outside. "He's in here... on the bed." I didn't want to see him move Nacho.

Ashley had followed us, she touched my arm, "It's okay, Nick," she said quietly, "I'll show him out."

"Thanks," I mumbled, and I ducked away.

Before: Negotiate


Ashley

I got the first text around ten-thirty that night.

We need to talk.

I stared at my phone, marveling at the balls it took for Chris to contact me right now after what he'd done.

I glanced over at Nick, who was mostly asleep on the couch, his eyes drooping, head nodding forward, then waking himself up to look around, a slight panic to his eyes. He always grabbed for my arm when he woke up. Like he wanted to make sure I was still there. Then he'd nod off again.

I texted Chris back. I have nothing to say to you.

Please.

I sighed.

Carefully, because I didn't want to wake Nick up, I struggled until I was at the edge of the sofa and rolled myself up onto my feet. It felt weird not to have Nacho jump up and follow me and I felt anger rise up in my gut. Oh I'd talk to Chris alright, I'd talk to his ass real damn good. I waddled down the hallway slowly, checking back over my shoulder that Nick hadn't woken up, and locked myself in the bathroom.

For good measure, because I knew Nick would get pissed if he knew what I was doing right now, I turned on the shower.

Then I dialed Chris's speed dial number.

"What?" I said.

Chris's voice was pleading. "I need to talk to you. In person."

"You're lucky you got a phone call."

"Please. Come back to me. I'm sorry."

"Go to hell."

Chris's voice was desperate, "Ashley I need you, I need you, please! I've been going crazy without you. You keep me stable. You're the only person I could ever be with, you're the only one that I love. I need you in my life. I love you so much, the thought of losing you makes me want to kill myself."

"You mean instead of killing dogs?" I said pointedly.

"I didn't mean to hurt the dog."

"You shot him, how could you not mean to hurt him?"

"I was aiming for Nick," he replied sharply.

I felt my skin crawl. So Nick was right. If it hadn't been for Nacho, then Chris would've killed him. I almost threw up. I somehow managed to keep my voice level, "Why are you doing this, why can't you just..." I couldn't even come up with words to finish the sentence, my voice broke and I stayed silent.

"What? Just let you go? I love you too much for that." Chris sighed, "I can't let you go I can't stand the thought of you not in my life. Ashley, I love you. Don't you see that?"

"No I see that you enjoy hurting me," I answered.

"Only when you've earned it. It's like a little kid Ashley, they do wrong and they get a spanking."

"I'm not a little kid."

"Ashley," he begged, "I love you."

"Just leave me and Nick alone, please," I begged, "Please. If you love me then love me enough to let me go."

Chris's voice was thick, "I can't do that Ashley. I won't let him have you. I refuse to let him have you. He doesn't deserve you after what he did to you."

It took me a moment to realize what Chris was talking about, that he was still pissed about Nick kissing that other girl after having sex with me in Las Vegas. It was so long ago, and so much had happened since, that I'd not only forgiven Nick but I'd completely forgotten it'd ever happened. He'd proven himself a thousand times since.

"Who the hell are you to talk about not deserving me after what's been done to me, Christopher?" I snapped.

"I need you, Ashley. Nick doesn't need you. He doesn't love you. It's a challenge to him to see if he can win you, and when he does he's gonna throw you away like you're nothin'. He doesn't love you like I do, whatever he says. Please, don't make a mistake. Don't leave me."

There was a knock on the door. "Ashley? You in there?"

"Be right out!" I called.

Chris's voice was cold, "Is that him?"

"I need to go."

"Tell him if he doesn't leave you the fuck alone --," Chris hissed.

"He doesn't need to leave me alone, you do," I replied.

"Tell him to keep his fucking dirty hands off my wife," Chris snapped.

"Ashley?" Nick called, "Who are you talking to?" Concern was in his voice.

"Good-bye Chris," I said.

"I'll fucking kill him!" Chris bellowed as I hung up the phone.

My hands were shaking. I didn't like how serious he'd sounded as he'd said the words. This was too quickly becoming far too... I dunno, it felt like General Hospital or something. I couldn't believe I was legitimately living these moments.

My phone vibrated in my hand. I looked down. I'm serious. I'll fucking kill him.

I felt my stomach twist. Please just leave us alone, please don't hurt him. Please Chris.

"ASHLEY?" Nick sounded really worried now.

I may be willing to negotiate with you.

"I'll be right ---"

Nick opened the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" He looked at the shower, running away by itself, and at me, sitting on the closed toilet seat. The bathroom was steamy.

"I'm okay," I replied.

Nick looked around the room some more, panic still in his eyes. "I thought...." he stopped and let his voice trail off. "Nevermind. I'm being stupid." He took a deep breath of steam-filled air. "What's with the sauna effect?"

"I just felt dry in my sinuses," I lied.

Nick accepted this, though I don't know if he believed me or not. He took a deep breath then looked at his watch. "Are you tired? I'm tired. I think it's bed time."

"Go ahead, I'll be right there."

"Okay." He hovered in the doorway a moment longer, then turned and left the bathroom.

Negotiate how? I typed back.




Nick

Ashley came to bed a few minutes later. She crawled onto the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, laying there, staring up at the ceiling. I went to put my arms around her and she muttered, "Not tonight, Nick."

"I wasn't trying anything," I said, "Just... hugging."

Ashley was quiet.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," she replied thickly.

I nudged myself closer to her. She didn't say anything. I could tell something was wrong, but she obviously didn't wanna talk about it, so I just stayed still, trying to send her telepathic messages that when she was ready I'd be there for her.

The next morning, Ashley was still not very... Ashley-like. I tried to make her smile, but nothing was working.

It was about one in the afternoon when Ashley came into the kitchen, where I was signing the last of the contracts to release myself from tour obligations with the Backstreet Boys, and said, "Would it bother you if I went out for a little bit?"

I looked up from the contracts, "Out?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "You know. Out."

I stared at her. "Why would I mind if you went out?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, you were talking some big stuff the other night about protecting me, I didn't know if you were allowing me out of the house," she said. "Chris never liked me leaving the house without him."

"I'm not controlling you," I said, my feelings hurt that she'd think I was even slightly like Chris. "I wouldn't stop you from going somewhere. I just want you to be safe..." I paused. "Where are you going?"

Ashley shrugged. "Just... you know... out."

"Did you want me to take you? Drop you off somewhere?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"You sure?"

"I'm positive, I just feel like getting out and being alone for a little while, that's all," she said.

"Okay."

"Maybe I'll call Rochelle and see if she wants to get her nails done," Ashley said.

"You might do better calling AJ," I joked.

Ashley laughed. She looked down at the contracts I was signing. "Wow, so you're doing it for real, huh?"

"Yeah," I said, looking down at them, too. "There's a clause in here says if I back out now I have to wait at least three years before I can rejoin the band if I wish to." I sighed. I ran my hand over the page. "That's the part that scares me to sign. I mean, what if this is just a phase I'm going through and a month from now I'm homesick for the damn bus?" I looked up at Ashley. "You know how I get when I'm off tour."

She nodded.

"What should I do?" I asked her.

Ashley hesitated. "If you don't sign them... you have to go to Europe, don't you?"

I nodded.

Ashley touched her stomach.

"I can't go to Europe right now," I said, turning back to the contracts. I raised my pen.

"Why? You can go to Europe." Ashley's voice was suddenly desperate. "Nick, you should go to Europe!"

"But -- I can't. You and the thing with Chris and --" I put my hand on her belly. "Our baby."

Ashley's eyes filled with tears. She looked up at me. "I just think your hesitation might mean that you need to think about this more, and maybe Europe will be the experience you need to help you make the choice better. And you could always fly back from wherever you are when it's time for the baby. I can call you and tell you. In Europe you'll be --" she paused, "-- you'll be able to make a choice."

I sighed and leaned my head against the counter. There was too many damn ifs, too many catches...

"They're already halfway through that tour, though," I argued. It was amazing how fast the time had flown by since I'd gotten home; the Boys had already been touring for almost two weeks without me, and the only reason AJ had been home at all the night we went over there was because he'd flown home during a five-day break.

"It's not like your fans are gonna rebel against you coming back," Ashley said.

"I'd have to fly over there," I said, "Alone." I couldn't picture being on a plane without someone else there.

Ashley touched my hand, "You can do it."

I looked into her eyes. The way she fiercely believed in me was incredible. I'd never had anyone believe in me like Ashley did. It made me feel like a superhero of some sort, like I was capable of damn near anything. She was like magic. "I don't know if I can stand being apart from you that long," I whispered. "Especially since I only just got you back in my life."

Ashley took a deep breath, "You could live without me, if you had to," she said.

I shook my head. "Maybe, but not happily. You are my happiness. You are my heart."

Ashley's eyes were teary again.

"I love you," I said, and then I put my hands on her belly, "And I love little Aiden or Haley."

Ashley shook her head, "No those names aren't right."

"Noah or Tracy?"

Ashley laughed, "Nick, no."

"Dallas?" I suggested, "That could be a boy or a girl."

"Nickolas."

"Nawh, that's my name."

Ashley laughed. She looked up at me. "I love you. I'd do anything for you, you know that?"

I grinned, "Would you name the baby Brooke? Or Greyson?"

"No," she smiled, then her smile turned into a smirk as she said dryly, "I'd do anything.... but I won't do that."

"Okay Meatloaf," I laughed. Then, "Ohhh... we should have meatloaf for dinner when you get home from out," I said excitedly, and I bounced toward the fridge to see if we had the ingredients.

Before: Don't Call Her Again


Ashley

I could tell Nick was reluctant to let me go, but I gotta give him credit where credit is due because he did. Nick thought I was going out with Rochelle. When he gave me a kiss on the cheek at the door and told me to call him if I needed anything, I felt guilty and I almost blurted out where I was really going. I felt strangely alone as I climbed into the cab I'd called to bring me to the coffee house, where Chris had decided we would talk.

The cab pulled me up to the curb in front of the coffee house and I climbed out, thanking the cabbie. Chris's old beat up car was parked at the curb, so I knew he was waiting for me. I took a deep breath before going inside. The door dinged as I stepped inside.

Chris was across the room at a table. I made my way over and lowered into the seat opposite him. He looked up from the menu, his expression a mixture of excitement and desperation. "You came," he said, standing up.

"Yeah," I said.

"I'm glad," he said. He reached across the table for my hand. I pulled it away. He kept his hand there anyway, like he hoped I'd put my hand back down in his or something. "I've missed you."

I didn't answer.

"You look beautiful," he said.

"Yeah, the bruises finally faded," I said.

Chris frowned, "I'm sorry."

"What do you want," I said.

Chris wiggled his fingers. I looked at his hand. "Hold my hand," he said. I reluctantly put my hand down in Chris's and he closed his fingers around mine. "See, isn't that better?" he asked.

I wanted to shake my head, but I didn't dare to. I was luckily not made to respond as a waitress approached the table. "Can I get you something else besides the refills?" she asked. She was holding coffee and put two coffee cups down in front of us.

"Just the coffee is fine," Chris answered.

The waitress smiled and walked away.

I looked over at him. "What do you want?" I asked again.

Chris looked into my eyes. "You," he answered simply.

"I'm not something that can be had," I replied. "Chris, I'm not yours anymore. You ruined that when you raised your hand to me."

He stared at me. "No, Ashley, you ruined that when you allowed him to come between us." He grabbed my hands tighter, pulling me forward into the table, clutching my hands in his. "Remember how happy we were before he came back into the picture last year? Remember your birthday, when I proposed to you, and you were so happy...?"

"Chris, that was a long time ago and a lot has happened..."

"Yeah... you ruined our marriage. You ruined our family." Chris looked at me with pleading eyes, "Please. Just call off this whole police thing, and lets you and I try one more time. Let's make this work between us. For the baby."

I looked him in the eyes, "It's not going to work, Chris, because I don't... I don't love you anymore."

"But I bought a crib," he said thickly.

"Chris..."

"I want to be a good father," he begged, "Give me a chance to be a good father, Ashley."

I looked down at the table.

"Has he offered to buy a crib? Has he painted the baby's nursery?"

I shook my head.

"He only wants you as long as it's a challenge, Ashley, I'm telling you."

I shifted. "Chris. It's not like that with Nick."

"It is."

"It isn't."

"Just... come back to the apartment. See the baby room."

I sighed. "Chris."

"Please."

I got up.

Chris stood, too.

"Nick's expecting me back for dinner," I said, "He's making meatloaf."

"Just... fifteen minutes," Chris said. "Just let me show you what I did."

I took a deep breath. "Fifteen minutes," I allowed. "But that's it. I go home after that."




Nick

I took a deep breath and scrawled my name across the line on the contract, finishing my time with the Backstreet Boys for a minimum of three years.

I stared down at the loops and dips of my name across the line.

It felt so... final. I picked up the contract and shoved it into the manilla envelope it came in, licked the seal and closed it. Now it was final. I threw the envelope on the counter and stared at it.

I picked up the envelope, ripped it open, and took the contract out and threw it into the trash bin. How could I even think about quitting the Backstreet Boys?

I spun out of the kitchen and snapped my keys up from the hook by the door, shoving my wallet into my back pocket and jogged across the driveway to the car. Ashley had left a couple hours before, and I was going crazy staring at the stupid contracts. I drove downtown to the grocery store.

The parking lot was full, so I parked like a decade away from the doors. I jogged across the lot to the door, and grabbed a basket once I got inside. I strolled down the dairy aisle, grabbed a bottle of whole milk, some eggs... swung up the baking aisle for the bread crumbs... My phone vibed, and I looked down at it. It was a text from Ashley.

egl;;p

I stared at the message. What the hell was that?

nice typing skillz ;)

I turned back to my mission: Get meatloaf supplies. The grocery store was crowded so it took me a couple minutes to get to the back of the store where the meat counter was. I ordered a pound of lean hamburg from the counter and pulled my phone back out of my pocket.

help

My brow stitched together. I opened my contacts and found Ashley's listing, pressed it and waited as the ringback tone played...

She's a good girl... loves her mama
Loves Jesus... and America too...
She's a good girl... crazy 'bout Elvis...
Loves horses and her boyfriend too

"Hamburg," called the guy from the counter.

I grabbed the ball of paper-wrapped meat from him and dropped it into my basket. Why wasn't she answering?

My phone vibed again, reminding me that I had an unanswered text message.

help

I hung up and pressed the call button again.

She's a good girl...

When she didn't answer again, I called Rochelle. She was gonna go get her nails done with Rochelle. That's what she'd said, wasn't it? It took Rochelle three rings to answer. "Hello?" she asked. I could hear Ava shrieking in the background.

"Ro, it's me, Nick," I said. I was still standing in the meat department at the grocery store. People were passing by me, like colorful blurs.

"Oh hey, Nick, what's up?"

"Is Ashley there?"

Rochelle was quiet a second, "Umm, nope. The only person here besides me is Ava."

"Sorrythenbye." I hung up, and just like that panic was starting to settle into my gut. Ashley could be anywhere in the city. Ashley could be alone. She could be laying on a street corner having the baby. She could be....

I felt my stomach flip and I dropped the basket right there. It clattered to the floor. I'm sure the eggs broke. Some people looked over at me with nervous or angry expressions. "Hey, you, you okay?" asked the guy from behind the meat counter. But I didn't respond. I darted between a couple people pushing their buggies by and rushed up the aisle to the front of the store. People were turning, watching me run. I slammed into the automatic door because it didn't open quite fast enough.

As soon as the door opened, I bolted across the parking lot. Car horns honked as I only just dodged them as I ran. I came about an inch from having my knees taken out by a Chrystler. I slammed my hands on the hood, stopping myself from falling, and continued running to my car. I threw myself in and pulled out my phone, calling again.

She's a good girl... loves her mama
Loves Jesus... and America too...

"Answer!" I yelled. I started the car. I didn't know which way to go.

The phone picked up.

"Ashley? Ashley?!"

"Don't call her again."

After: Dogface. Ashley. Please.


Nick

I pushed between the doctors. They gave easily now that they were in a frenzy. I got to the bed and I grabbed hold of her hand. Gideon was backing away, a frustrated expression on his face. "No!" I yelled, "No, wake her up! WAKE HER UP!"

Gideon looked at me, "I can't, man."

Everything felt heavy around me. I pulled Ashley's hand up to my face. It was cool, but she was always cooler than I was. I held her hand on my cheek, I reached up and turned her face toward me. "Ashley," I begged, "Ashley wake up baby. Please." I stared at her eyes, closed, her thick lashes, her narrow nose, her freckles... "Please. Please. Please," I whispered. My breath sounded ridiculously loud, echoing off the palm of her hand. Tears were pouring down my face.

"The story can't end like this," I begged. I turned my eyes up at the ceiling without moving my head. "You said the story wasn't over," I said. "You said it wasn't over yet. This can't be how it ends. This can't be it."

The monitor hummed a steady monotone.

I looked down at her, at her slightly parted lips. "What did she say?" I begged, looking around. "What did she say?" I looked at the doctors, my hand still clasping Ashley's.

They looked at one another, like they weren't sure how to answer. Finally one stepped forward. Her name tag said her name was Lorraine. "She... she said I love you."

I turned back to Ashley, "You can't steal my line," I whispered, my eyes flooding with tears. "That was my move.... you can't go steal my moves..."

Gideon was standing beside me, his hand on her wrist.

"Come back," I whispered. "If you're lookin' through that viewfinder at me... if you can hear me somehow right now... please come back. Do whatever you have to. Do anything. Please. Ashley... we deserve a chance." Then, out of desperation I whispered, "Hey, up and at'em Dogface, you can't go out like this one me, you know? You gotta win this battle cos we got a whole war raging on... We got a baby over there who needs their mommy," I could barely breathe. I thought my heart might burst. "Dogface. Ashley. Please."

I closed my eyes.

I heard crying behind me, and I looked up and there was Chris, tears pouring down his face, his hands covering his eyes. He looked down at me, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry."

Then several things happened at once:

The door burst open and there was a guy in a big vest with a gun aimed directly at Chris. "Hands where we can see them." And Chris tossed his hands in the air.

And I felt Ashley's chest rise suddenly, as a great gasp of air filled her lungs.

And the doctors came forward again, pushing me out of the way, and I stumbled backwards.

Before: I Would Rather Die Than Be With You

Ashley

He'd cleaned the apartment.

Everything was where it belonged, and the air conditioner was running, keeping it cool in there. He'd cleaned the carpet, gotten the blood up out of it somehow, and there was a radio playing softly somewhere, giving the apartment a welcoming ambiance. And it smelled nice, like pancakes. He must've lit one of my candles that I had around the apartment. It's my favorite scene, the pancakes candle.

"You gotta see the room," he said, and he took my hands and he pulled me down the hallway to the spare bedroom at the end. Chris pushed the door open.

He'd painted the walls pale green, and there was a border running around the room with little froggies on it about midway up and there was a crib in the corner, a wooden crib with a mobile hanging over it with little stuffed frogs and ducks hanging from it. There was a rocking chair with green upholstered cushions and a gliding ottoman beside it. A big stuffed teddy bear holding up a heart that read I Love You sat in the chair.

It was beautiful. It was the result of a lot of work. I wanted to love it. I wanted it to be everything I'd dreamed of, I wanted it to be enough.

Chris stepped up behind me and I felt every muscle in my body tighten in fear.

There was nothing that would ever be enough.

I turned to face him. "Chris," I said, putting my hand on his chest.

"I know," he said, "It's okay, you don't have to say you're sorry."

"What?"

He pulled me into him, pressing himself against me, he snaked his tongue into my mouth and his hands gripped me tight to him. I struggled to pull back, and he struggled to keep me there, refusing to release me. When he finally let go, and I stumbled backwards, I caught the side of the crib for support, almost tumbling to the floor. I gasped. "Oh God, Chris, I'm sorry," I said.

He looked at me, and I could see desperation in his eyes. "But... I did this."

"And it's beautiful," I choked, "But... Chris... it's not enough."

"How can it not be enough? It proves I love you, it proves I was thinking of you and about the baby and that I love you both."

I took a deep breath. "I need to go." I headed toward the door of the bedroom, but Chris blocked me.

"No," he said, "You aren't going back to him."

"Chris, you can't tell me what to do," I said.

He reached behind him, and I saw him pull up his shirt and he withdrew the gun from the back of his pants. His hands were shaking. "I think I can tell you what to do actually," he replied.

I stepped back. "Christopher," I said quietly.

"I told you Ashley, I told you I refuse to let him have you."

"So what're you going to do? Kill me? So nobody has me?" I asked, my voice shook because even though I was trying to make it sound like I didn't believe it, I was very afraid that was exactly what he was about to do.

He was stepping towards me, and I was stepping away with each step he took, until I'd backed into the dresser, and he was still advancing. There was no where to go and soon he had me completely pressed between the dresser and his body. He put his hands up, the gun pressed between his fist and the wall. He leaned in, so close I could feel his breath on my face. "Why don't you just love me? Then I don't have to kill you or Nick," he whispered.

I closed my eyes. I tried to open my mind. What should I do?

Chris leaned closer still, "Just...give me a chance... to make it all up to you..." he said huskily.

I opened my eyes. His eyes were closed, he was about to kiss me. He was off his guard. My moment was now.

I swung my arms with every ounce of force I had in my body and brought them both down across the length of his arm, making him drop the gun. The gun fell behind the dresser. I shoved him as hard as I could and he fell backwards. He hit the wall behind himself, and I ran. It felt too familiar. It felt like last time I'd been here. I reached for my phone in my pocket as I hurtled down the hallway, my hands shaking. I knew even if I managed to somehow get out of the apartment, even if I managed to somehow get down the stairs and out onto the street before Chris caught up to me, he'd still catch up to me before I could ever get away.

I needed help.

So as I ran I texted Nick. Just one word. Just one word. Help. Because that was the only word I could think of to say.

As I hit send, I heard Chris crash out of the baby room. I turned the corner into the dining room, my feet carrying me as quickly as I possibly could move. I grabbed the apartment door, which he hadn't remembered to lock behind us, and I swung it open and rushed into the hallway. I felt my phone vibe.

nice typing skillz ;)

I looked at the text I'd sent him.

egl;;p

Awesome. Well that was helpful wasn't it.

I retyped it.

help

I had planned to type more, but Chris caught up to me, so I squashed the send button, desperate to get Nick's attention. Chris swung me into the wall so hard the wall shook behind me and I felt something shift inside me. "My baby!" I cried, "Chris, my baby!"

He either didn't hear me or didn't care because he proceeded to slam me against the wall again. And again. I struggled, trying to free myself from his grasp on my shoulders. I tried to scream and he covered my mouth. "Shut the fuck up," he said coldly. He dragged me back toward the apartment. "I already fucking told you that you aren't going back to him."

My phone rang.

Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere
Just a city boy, born and raised in south Detroit
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere...

It was Nick. I struggled, trying like hell to hit the answer button. If he could hear what was happening... if he could just hear it... I could yell to him, I could tell him somehow where I was, he would come...

But we got into the apartment and Chris knocked the phone out of my hand and it went flying and slid under the couch.

"NOW LISTEN TO ME," he snarled, "YOU BELONG TO ME! YOU BELONG TO ME!"

"I DO NOT BELONG TO YOU!" I screamed.

"YOU ARE MINE!" Chris was right in my face, "YOU ARE MY WIFE!"

"Fuck you!" I yelled.

I heard my phone go off again.

Born and raised in south Detroit...
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere...

I rushed forward, trying to get to the phone. But Chris swooped ahead of me and faster than I ever could've struggled to bend down to pick it up, he lifted it up off the floor and hit the button that silenced the phone. He held it in his hand, "You. Will. Obey. Me. You. WILL. Love. Me. You WILL. Stay. With. Me."

I screamed the words as hard and as loud as I possibly could. "I WOULD RATHER DIE THAN BE WITH YOU!"

He reeled. He looked like I'd slapped him across the face. He stood there, frozen, staring at me, and I stood there, frozen, staring back. I was panting. And I felt something happening deep inside me, something I couldn't explain. It was like a rumbling, like knowing that something huge was about to happen. I felt the baby moving.

I put my hand on my stomach.

Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world...

"Fuck," Chris spat the word. He answered the phone. "Don't call her again." He hung up. And he turned and he threw the phone so hard that when it hit the wall it shattered into about a hundred pieces that showered across the floor. He turned back to me, livid.

"Go on then," I snapped, "Kill me why don't you. Get it over with. You hate Nick so bad, then kill me and he'll never have me. But neither will you."

And Chris lunged at me.

I hadn't really thought he would. I didn't really think he had the balls to.

I guess I had higher expectations than he ever really deserved.

And the next thing I knew I was falling backwards.

And I'd crashed through the coffee table.




Nick

They could be anywhere. Los Angeles is a huge city. They could literally be anywhere.

I started driving, my hands sweating against the wheel, my stomach turning. I didn't even know where to start, I couldn't think straight. I probably shouldn't have been driving. I felt dizzy and lost and confused and fucking terrified.

I tried to logically work out where she was. She could be at the apartment, but why would she go there? There was no reason to go there. And he had to know that was the first place I'd look. That didn't even make sense to go there. She could be back at the house, but had I really left long ago enough that something could've happened? But then again the whole thing with Nacho, that had taken less than an hour and I'd been gone about that considering traffic, and yeah traffic was bad so I had to make this choice fast or else by the time I found her... I shuddered to think of her facing down a gun with Chris as pissed off as he'd sounded on the phone. I hated to think of her with him at all. And the baby.

My cell rang.

I looked at the ID.

It was the coffee shop by Ashley's apartment.

The one where I took her every year for her birthday coffee.

"Hello?" I really, really wanted it to be Ashley on the other end somehow.

"Hello, this is Breeanna, from The Coffee House... is Ashley there?"

"No this is her --" what was I to her? "--boyfriend, I guess," I said.

There was a pause. "Well I'm just calling because Ashley left her purse behind today when she was here, and Hillary, my manager, looked through it and this number was on a paper in the purse."

"THANK YOU!" I shouted ecstatically, and I hung up.

Before: I'll See You Again In Awhile


Nick


I tripped running across the parking lot. I caught myself on the cement, and leaped to my feet, refusing to let even this stop me. I got to the door and tried to wrench it open, but the building is secured, so I started hitting buttons associated to random names on the panel. Zachary Coleman, Stacey Austin, Alana Johnson, Kyla Wilson. These were all names of people I didn't know, all people who weren't answering their fucking buzzers. "PLEASE!" I yelled, "PLEASE!"

Then someone was coming up the walkway. "Do you live in this building?" I yelled, running toward them, my bloody palms raised in a panic.

The guy was good-sized, he looked alarmed, "Yeah..."

"Please I'm trying to get in to Ashley Jackson, it's an emergency," I begged.

He eyed me. "She the pregnant girl on the third floor?"

"Yes!"

"Are you the fucker that's always yelling at her up there?" he asked roughly.

"No that's her exhusband, I'm her friend," I said, "Please, she called me and I can't get in and she's upstairs and --"

The guy studied me a moment. "Wait a second, you're that guy from -- shit, what's it called -- Nsync, right?"

God fucking damn it, at that moment I'd be from whatever band he wanted me to be from. "YES, PLEASE JUST LET ME IN!"

"Okay, okay, no need to get your knickers in a bunch," he muttered, "And hey, by the way, I liked that movie your brother was in. With the teddy bear."

Awesome now he thought I was Donnie Wahlburg. "Yeah thanks," I shouted as I ran up the stairs the moment he got the door open, my heart racing.

I fell up the stairs twice in the six flights that I took to get up to the third floor. I got rug burn on my arm. I thundered down the hallway to the door and I could hear thumping, banging. I could hear Chris yelling.

I backed up, took a deep breath, and I plowed my way through the god damn door.

I have broken down exactly three doors in my lifetime....




Ashley


I don't know if it was a dream or if I was dead or what happened, to be honest. I just know that as I crashed through that coffee table, I lost all sense of what was happening to me. I couldn't feel it as Chris pulled me out of the broken pieces of the table and started punching me... I couldn't hear his yells... instead I felt like I was falling in and out of sleep and when I blinked I alternated between the dining room of the apartment and some place else... some place that sounded like music... some place with bright sunlight and that smelled like water and some sort of floral scent.

And finally Chris threw me into the wall and I slid down it to the floor and I had no strength in my body. I couldn't have gotten back up if I tried. I just slumped to my side and I felt my dining room carpet under my cheek, rough and cool from the air conditioner. And I closed my eyes and let myself fall completely into the dream.

In the dream, I was laying on cool stone and I blinked and sat up and looked around.

"Leslie," I said thickly.

She was standing a few feet away. I felt a shiver run through my body.

"Am I dead?" I asked. And the words, even as they came out of my mouth, reminded me of when Nick told me the story about what he'd seen when he'd been in the crash, about Leslie and the viewfinder and seeing me and he'd asked those same words.

Leslie shrugged, "Do you want to be?"

I didn't know how to answer. I touched my stomach. But... it was normal... it wasn't... I wasn't... "Where's my baby?" I looked up, panicked.

"She hasn't been born yet," Leslie said.

"She?" I gasped.

"She's really beautiful... or she will be," Leslie said, "If you decide to go back."

"I can decide?"

"Yes."

"I mean nobody's going to blame you if you go now. You have every reason in the world to want it all to end. You've been hurt by so many people so many times. You deserve a rest if you want it..." her voice trailed off like she hadn't finished the thought.

"A rest would be nice," I admitted.

"Yeah," Leslie said quietly. "I understand. Rest it is."

I closed my eyes, feeling... free. I felt the sunshine on my face. "Nick said it was nice here, but I didn't expect it to be this nice."

"Yeah, it's perfect. Except for one thing."

"What's that?" I asked, opening my eyes.

Leslie shrugged, "Well, Mike's not here." Mike was Leslie's husband. I felt my throat tighten. "I miss him, you know? I know we were separated but... I guess deep down I had hoped that we'd work it out and that... I don't know, that things would get better." She paused, sighed, and said, "Now he's with someone else, and... I don't know. I mean, I can't hurt here. But I do miss him."

I pictured missing Nick like that.

"I think the hardest part was knowing that I'd left him without telling him that I loved him one last time."

"Wait -" I said, changing my mind.

"But I do need you to go back for just a little while because your little girl needs to be born first. So Nick has something. You don't want to leave him alone, do you?"

"No, I - I can't, I - wait - I --"

Then I heard Nick's voice, calling me.

"I'll see you again in a while," Leslie said.

I opened my eyes and I was back in the apartment and I realized it'd all been a dream. I started sobbing, overcome with... was it relief? Was it fear? What had Leslie meant by she'd see me again in awhile? Was I really going to die? Had it really been my choice? Was I going crazy? I needed Nick.

And just like that, like I'd wished him into existence, Nick was leaning over me, his face panicked. My heart was slamming in my chest. What had I just done? "I made a mistake," I sobbed.

Nick looked down at me, his eyes were so soft, so gentle. I knew he didn't know what I was talking about, that the mistake I'd made was choosing to die.

After: It Means Life


Ashley

"Welcome back."

I opened my eyes.

I was back on the cool stone and that watery floral scent filled my nose once more and Leslie was standing there again. I hands shook. "Please," I said, "I made a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"I don't want to die," I begged.

Leslie stared at me, silent.

"I was wrong. I don't want to die. I need rest, but not here. I need rest in my life. I need -- I need Nick." I paused. "And he's going through so much right now, with the band and because of Nacho and, well, me..." I paused. "I think we need each other, Leslie."

Leslie nodded. "I think you do, too."

"So see," I said, my throat raw, "I made a mistake."

"So wake up," she said.

I realized suddenly that this was the part Nick never told me. How it was he had managed to wake up. I closed my eyes and opened them, only to find that I was there in the midst of my vision still, Leslie still staring at me. I tried again... and again... and a sort of panic seemed to start taking over. "I can't wake up," I said, scared.

"You can do it," Leslie said encouragingly.

"How?" I asked, desperately.

"Just... think about how much you need and love your life," Leslie said, "And... go back to it."

I closed my eyes.

And a moment later, I sat up, sucking in air that burned my lungs. It made me dizzy. The light was there, blinding me from above again, and I heard the doctors shouting and for one fleeting moment before they descended upon me again, I saw Nick's tear stained face.

I panted air, feeling like I could never swallow enough of it.

It seemed like forever before the doctors slowly, one by one, disappeared from my bedside, as each one's tasks were completed. And soon a space opened up wide enough that Nick squeezed in and he grabbed my hand the moment he got to the side of the bed. He had tears streaming down his face like rivers. He kissed my palm and my forearm and my elbow and then leaned down and kissed my mouth, laughing through the tears and the kisses. "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus," he muttered, "I thought you left me."

"I thought I did too," I said hoarsely.

Nick leaned down, hugging me in an awkward way, his face pressed against mine. "I love you," he said thickly. "Oh fuck do I love you."

"I love you," I replied.

Dr. Jorryn appeared at my side. "That was a close call there, Ashley."

"What happened?" I asked.

"There was a lot of internal bleeding we didn't anticipate..." he stare down at me gently, "You were hemorrahging. We had to take out the baby to get to the spot you were bleeding from... You flatlined for about two full minutes," he added.

"Longest two fucking minutes of my life," Nick muttered into my skin.

"But you're strong, you're very strong, Ashley," Dr. Jorryn said.

"Strong and beautiful," whispered Nick.

Dr. Jorryn cleared his throat. "Speaking of strong and beautiful..."

And a nurse came over, and she handed Dr. Jorryn something. "Thank you, Presley," Dr. Jorryn said. He turned to me. "Ashley... Nick... would you like to meet your little girl?" Nick moved as Dr. Jorryn turned toward me and carefully lowered my little baby onto my bare upper chest.




Nick

I leaned down to look too.

"Holy shit," I whispered.

Ashley wrapped her arms around the baby softly. I felt tears in my eyes. And I was so in love with her I couldn't believe that much love could exist. Even with all the love I had for Ashley, I couldn't imagine ever feeling this much love. It was unearthly.

"She looks just like her momma," I whispered. The baby had Ashley's eyes and a narrow nose and a patch of bright, bright red hair.

"Beautiful, beautiful baby," Ashley whispered.

I stared at her, my arms still awkwardly around Ashley. "She needs a name," I whispered. "We can't just keep calling her baby."

"Might I make a suggestion?" Dr. Jorryn asked.

We both looked up at him.

"Zoey," he said.

"Zoey," I tried the name out on my tongue.

"It means life in the Greek," he said.

I looked down at Ashley.

"Zoey," she whispered, and she smiled, "I like that. What do you think?" she looked up at me, then back down at the baby.

"I think Zoey is perfect," I answered thickly.