Chance: A Small Town, Enemies to Lovers, Protector Romance (Ghost Ops Book 2)
Chance: Chapter 8

Rory rinsedher mouth and patted her face with cool water. How the hell was she going to survive months of this?

Though maybe it wouldn’t be months. She needed to read up on morning sickness and pregnancy in general. Hell, she still needed an obstetrician. Probably needed to talk to Emma Grace about that today.

And then she needed to tell her brother. After him, probably had to tell Chance.

Though maybe she had that backwards and she should tell Chance first.

Dear God, Chance. He was on her couch. Except, no, he was up because she smelled coffee. She just hoped he hadn’t heard her be sick. How would she explain it if he had?

She could say it was something she’d eaten if he asked. Or maybe something was going around and she’d caught it. That would work too. Just until she could figure out how to tell him.

She finished her business in the bathroom, then went back into her bedroom and put on a bra beneath the T-shirt she usually slept in and some yoga pants. Mornings were still cool, but by June she’d be wearing shorts in the morning.

Rory twisted her hair up and clipped it, then sucked in a breath and prepared to go greet Chance since she was up. She could send him on his way and climb back in bed if she wanted. Or she could go poke around Gramps’s sheds and see if anything was obviously out of place.

Rory opened the bedroom door and gasped at the sight of Chance in the hall. He leaned against the doorjamb coming from the living room, arms folded, as if he’d been waiting for her. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his jeans hung low on his hips. Her eyes greedily roamed all that tanned skin, her fingers itching to follow.

She’d never been with a man as fit at Chance before, and it’d been every wet dream come true to explore all that hard muscle and sinew. She still dreamed about it sometimes.

He stared at her and she stared back. Maybe she should say something. Before she could, he unfolded himself from his lazy slouch against the door. Then he unfolded his arms. A pink box appeared, and her heart sank.

“Care to tell me about this?”

“I, um….”

Rory’s knees were suddenly liquid. She caught herself on the door frame before she could fall. But Chance was there, swooping her into his arms the way he had in the tent. She barely had time to appreciate the feel of his bare skin before he deposited her on the couch and stood.

“Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat? Are your blood sugars okay?”

“I’m fine.”

But misery exploded inside her head and heart. Being pregnant seemed so overwhelming suddenly. And this certainly wasn’t how she’d wanted him to replace out. She hadn’t buried the box in the trash. She hadn’t thought of it because she hadn’t expected Chance to be there.

Chance disappeared for a second and returned with water. He set the glass on the side table, then sank onto the chair across from her, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands hanging down.

Seriously, the man was too handsome. Why he’d been interested in her she’d never know, but she knew it couldn’t last with someone like him. Too pretty, too capable of having any woman he wanted. Why would he want a neurotic mess of a woman nearly past her prime who had a serious medical condition that wasn’t ever going away?

Not that she wasn’t healthy, because she was, but diabetes had the potential for complications as you got older. She didn’t know for certain that she wouldn’t experience any of them. It was a lot to take on. She was a lot.

“Are you pregnant, Rory?”

She picked up the water because she needed something to do. “Yes,” she said without looking at him.

A breath exploded from him. “Jesus. How the fuck?”

Anger flared to life. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact we fucked repeatedly for two weeks had something to do with it?”

“I meant how when you told me you had an implant. Or was that a lie?”

She wanted to throw the glass at him but she refrained. “It wasn’t a lie,” she grated. “Birth control isn’t a guarantee, apparently. And I’m the one who’s pregnant here, so I get to be even more pissed off at the manufacturer than you do.”

“Jesus,” he repeated, shoving a hand through his hair. “This can’t be happening. I can’t be this stupid.”

Hurt and anger warred inside her. “It’s not your problem, Chance. You don’t have to do a damned thing, okay? I’m keeping the baby and I don’t want anything from you. I definitely don’t want you to change your life and be pissed off about it for the next eighteen years or more.” She flicked a hand at him. “So you just go and do whatever it is you want to do and I’ll deal with this, okay?”

“Not my problem?” he growled. “Not my fucking problem? You’re pregnant with my kid. If you think I’m not going to be involved in that, you’re delusional. I’m in this as much as you are. You don’t want anything from me? Too fucking bad. You’re getting it. You’re getting so much of me in your life you’re going to get sick of the sight of me.”

“I’m already sick of the sight of you,” she clapped back. It wasn’t as true as she wanted it to be, but that little demon over her shoulder that always had to fight with him was right there, spoiling for it.

Her CGM beeped to alert her that her blood sugar was getting low. Chance was on his feet instantly.

“What do you need?”

“Breakfast, but I’ll take some apple juice to start.”

He was back with a glass and she drank it down before setting the glass on the table. “If it’s still low in fifteen minutes, I’ll need more of that.”

He sat again. “Why does that happen?”

She looked at him. “Honestly? Stress. It can affect blood sugar quickly. That’s why I tipped over into ketoacidocis so quickly when Kyle Hollis kidnapped us. I can’t control it, unfortunately. And this situation is stressful.”

“But ketoacidosis is caused by high blood sugar, right? This is low blood sugar.”

She wasn’t upset that he wanted to understand. “That’s right. I have too much insulin in my system and not enough sugar. Stress can make the numbers go either way, unfortunately. That’s why I have to pay attention. It’s early. If this was happening later in the day, it’d probably too high rather than too low.”

He rubbed his hands along both sides of his head and then folded them over the back of it as he leaned forward and stared down at the floor. Her heart thumped.

“Is it even safe, Rory?”

She blinked. “What? Being pregnant?”

He nodded without looking up. She sighed.

“Not as safe as if I didn’t have diabetes, but it’s manageable. Type 1 diabetics used to be encouraged not to get pregnant, but that’s not the case anymore. I’ll be considered high-risk and I’ll have to be monitored more often, but I should be okay.”

“Have you seen a doctor yet?”

“No. I just took the test yesterday. I was planning to ask Emma Grace for an obstetrician recommendation. I’ll need one who specializes in high-risk pregnancies. I’ll need to talk to my endocrinologist too.”

His mouth was a flat line when he looked at her. “This changes everything. You realize that, right?”

Her heart thumped. “My life is changing. I know that. I’ve thought about it, and I’m ready for it. This is what I want.”

“No, babe. Not your life. Our lives. I’m in this now, and you aren’t cutting me out. Like it or not, you’re going to have to learn to deal with me without losing your shit every time you try and talk to me.”

“I don’t lose my shit every time I talk to you,” she snapped. “But you don’t automatically get to start bossing me around just because you knocked me up.”

His eyes flashed. “I’m going to boss you around about some shit, like it or not. Like those high res cameras and the hard drive. You’re fucking getting them and you aren’t paying for it. Second thing you aren’t going to like, but I’m not taking no for an answer. You ready for it?”

“I doubt it but go ahead.” He stood, towering over her so she had to crane her neck back to look up at him.

“I’m moving in.”