Hi everyone :) Sorry to make you wait with another cliffhanger. I know, I'm the WORST :) Also, I think this story is nearing the end :/ I've had the best time writing it, but I think it feels finished (almost, lol).
Usually around this time in a story, I've already decided on the subject of my next one. But for some reason, I'm having a little writers block. I would be happy to hear any suggestions. Or maybe I will do a few Bless the Broken Road one shots?
Let me know what you think, and happy reading!
Chapter 28,
"Jay," Brooke whispered his name into the space between his neck and shoulder, her lips barely brushing against his warm neck as she spoke. His breathing had evened out almost an hour before, the rhythmic, slow rise and fall of his chest clear beneath her weight.
"Mmmm," he replied drowsily, barely awake. He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep for, how long she had been awake for, but her breath tickling his throat as she spoke caused him to wake and open his eyes.
When he did, it took him several moments to adjust to the darkness of the room. "What's going on?" He breathed, keeping his voice low to match hers.
Of course, after the fog of sleep had cleared from his brain, he realized that was a stupid question. He knew what was going on.
When she didn't answer right away, though, he wondered if she had fallen asleep. But after a moment, he felt it again; the brush of her lips against his neck, the soft whisper of breath on his skin as she spoke.
"I want you to be the father." Brooke rushed out the words, glad to finally have them out in the open. She had been counting down in her head for the last hour, 3, 2, 1, Speak. She had been trying and failing to find the courage to say the words aloud. "That's why I told you," she whispered the second part more slowly, hoping, praying he responded in kind.
But instead, she heard him take a sharp intake of breath, and let out a sigh, and then he didn't respond at all.
"You don't have to give me an answer now," she continued, filling the silence that had become thick and heavy in the room.
Except, she realized, she wasn't sure that was actually true.
She had no idea how the timing of the IVF process worked. She had no idea if she was even eligible for IVF. The doctor in Tree Hill had seemed to think she wouldn't be a candidate, at all. But then, she couldn't think like that.
She had done some reading, and she was pretty sure that when, not if, she started an IVF cycle, she would need the sperm 2 weeks later to fertilize her retrieved egg. On the one hand, that gave Jay 2 weeks to decide, but then, if he said no, how quickly could she get sperm from a sperm bank? Did they ship it? Did it come from across the country or down the street? How long did it take to thaw the frozen sample? Is that even how it worked?
She knew these were questions she would be able to ask the doctor tomorrow, and suddenly, she wished she hadn't brought this up to Jay until after she had had her appointment, after she had answers to these questions.
Then, maybe, she would have something more clear to offer him.
"At least," she finished, "I don't think you do."
She added that last part with the hope that he would finally chime in, that he would finally give her an answer.
But she was disappointed.
Instead, he just whispered, "Can I think about it?"
She noticed that his voice seemed calm, stoic even. And she wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Or if it meant nothing at all.
"Of course," she said, trying for more confidence than she actually felt. "Of course," she repeated. That time, she was pretty sure she had managed to pull the confident tone off.
Confident. Breezy. Nonchalant.
Everything she wasn't actually feeling.
She almost turned away from him, then. To give him the time he so clearly needed, to take the space she knew she needed, but didn't actually want.
She almost curled up into a ball facing the opposite wall of the apartment. The wall of windows, which were currently uncovered by any shades, would calm her down. It would put everything into perspective, making her problems seem small against the immense backdrop of the city lights.
But before she had a chance, Jay spoke once again. "Okay," he whispered back, his voice also attempting a breezy and nonchalant tone.
Except, he, too, failed to pull it off.
This time his voice seemed to hold a mix of fear, trepidation, and was also raw with emotion.
And the fact that he still cared calmed her down more than any skyline ever could, so instead of turning away, she stayed in the safety and warmth of his arms and allowed his breathing to lull her to sleep.
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The following morning, Brooke slipped out before Jay woke up. She scribbled a note on a small piece of lined purple paper from her Clothes over Bros notepad, and left it next to his iPhone on the night table.
She knew she should wait until Jay woke up, to see if there was anything more he wanted to say, but for some reason she just couldn't. Conversations in the dark of night always felt very different when they were cast in the morning light, and she wasn't sure she could handle it.
Plus, New York had woken up an hour before, and she had work to do.
She turned on the boring Cuisinart coffee pot, knowing it would make Jay smile when he woke up and saw his coffee already in the kitchen and waiting for him.
Maybe it would make up for the fact that she wasn't going to be in the kitchen and waiting for him.
You don't have to have breakfast together every morning, she told herself as she slipped on her brand new shoes and sipped her own coffee quietly.
Besides, she thought, Your breakfast days with Jay are numbered. You both better get used to it.
She tried to shake that thought from her head, but it sat stubbornly at the forefront. Right between her eyes.
She closed her eyes, then, and marveled at how much her life had changed in such a short amount of time. Three weeks ago, she had closed her eyes and felt Xavier's hands tightening around her neck. She had heard his voice, felt the pain he had inflicted and the fear he had instilled.
Now, when she closed her eyes, she still felt an overwhelming sense of fear, but this time she didn't see Xavier. She saw her future. She saw Jay. She saw everything she wanted and it finally seemed within reach.
She just hoped it didn't slip away.
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Jay sauntered into the kitchen nearly 30 minutes later, knowing he wouldn't find Brooke standing there waiting for him.
If his complete avoidance of her question last night hadn't been clear enough, the note she had left this morning was.
It had been in her familiar scrawl, on the same purple paper she always used, but it had been very different then her usual notes.
There had been no hearts, no see you tonights, just: "Went to the store early. Have a good day, B.D."
B.D.?
Since when did she sign her notes B.D.?
Even in her early text messages, she had signed off Brooke. But by now, she had stopped signing off at all.
That had always struck him as more intimate, anyway. Whenever his mother gave his father a card, whether it be for a birthday or an anniversary, or just a note left in the kitchen reminding him to bring something with him to work, she always signed it Love, Me.
Because, honestly, who else would it be from?
God. He didn't need her to sign B.D.
He knew who it was from.
Well, he thought. That's what you get for not answering her question.
Except, he hadn't been prepared for her question. He thought he had been. Even a week ago, he would have said he was ready for her ask that question, that he was ready and waiting with an answer.
But thoughts and doubts had wormed their way into his subconscious as the week dragged on, and by the time she had uttered the words, his own seemed to fail him.
He moved towards the coffee maker, and smiled when he saw a second note by the already full machine, his first real smile of the day.
"Good luck with your new partner today. I bet he's going to be great."
This one had no signature. No sign off. No B.D.
And this one was so much more personal. She had remembered.
Of course she remembered, Jay thought, as he slipped the note in his pocket and then reached for a mug and began to pour. Of course she had.
That was what was going to make her such an amazing mother one day.
It was the thing that already made her the best girlfriend he had ever had.
Fuck, he thought, as he took a tentative sip of his coffee. I can't lose her over this.
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"Fill these out," Beatrice handed Brooke a stack of forms the size of a college application, and that was on top of all the forms she had already sent in from her previous physician in Tree Hill. "And bring them back when you're done."
"Okay," Brooke said, taking the binder and the blue pen before finding her seat in the waiting room. Even though the stack was huge, she finished the paperwork quickly, citing the same information she had hundreds of times before. Age at first period, last menstrual period, sexual history, medical history, family history, etc., etc., etc.
It was only a matter of minutes before she handed back the binder and waited for her name to be called.
The waiting room was elegant, tasteful, and calming. It was exactly the type of place she had imagined, only better. Instead of having to stare at magazines with pregnant women or babies on the cover like she had in her Ob/Gyn's office, there were fashion and lifestyle magazines, news and gossip magazines, cooking and decorating magazines, and several best-selling books.
As she sat there nervously, her knee bouncing up and down, she tried to distract herself. She picked up the latest edition of B. Davis magazine and placed it on the top of the pile. Because, well, estranged or not, she was still her mother's daughter.
"Ms. Davis." A nurse appeared at the front desk, and Brooke immediately recognized the name on her nametag as the same woman that she had spoken to the week before. "My name is Chantal," she said, "I'll be your nurse through this process. You can follow me."
She was older than Brooke expected, but her voice was warm and smooth as honey, and immediately put her ease. She brought her into a small room that seemed more akin to a room you might see a therapist in, rather than a patient room in a doctor's office. There was no examining table to sit on, no stirrups to put your feet in, no curtain to undress behind.
Instead, Chantal motioned for her to sit on the large couch, and she sat opposite her in a comfortable looking blue chair. "We have a few tests we like to run straight away," she explained, "But then we will bring you back in here, and Dr. Lincoln will come in. He'll explain the whole process, and then when she's done, I'll come back in and we'll go over everything again." Her smile was warm, and Brooke found herself relaxing slightly.
She wasn't completely relaxed, but this nurse's quiet, calm demeanor was going a long way. At the very least, she had lost the need to fidget, her bouncing knee now resting still.
"Okay," Brooke replied, a smile of her own finding it's way to her lips.
Chantal motioned for her to get up and follow her. She directed Brooke to phlebotomy, another room that looked a lot less sterile than it had in her Ob/Gyn's office. Then, she directed her to a fancy, over the top bathroom so Brooke could retrieve a urine sample.
The whole process took only a few minutes, and soon she was back on the couch, sitting alone and waiting for Dr. Lincoln to arrive.
Alone, she thought. Alone.
It was her least favorite word in the dictionary, and she had never felt it more acutely than she did right now.
Because for the past three weeks, she had felt so far from alone.
And now that the feeling was back, it didn't feel like the familiar old friend it was. Instead, it felt awful. It felt more heartbreaking and isolating and terrifying than it ever had before.
Could she do this? Could she do this alone?
And just like that, the nervous bounce in her knee returned.
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"Halstead," Voight's voice bellowed across the bullpen, unneccesarily high considering Halstead's close proximity to Voight, who was standing at his office door.
Jay stood immediately, moving towards his Sergeant. Voight had been in his office with the door closed for quite a while with a young, male detective who was presumably going to be Jay's new partner.
"Detective Jay Halstead," Voight said as soon as Jay passed through the threshold. "This is your new partner, Detective Kenny Rixton. Go, show him around."
Voight gave Jay a glare that said Do not screw this one up, and Jay nodded his assent. "Yes, sir."
Then Jay turned to his new partner, taking him in. He looked a little scruffy, his dark brown hair overgrown slightly, his facial hair clearly a few days without a trim, his black leather jacket old and worn.
Jay reached out his hand to shake it, and took note of Rixton's firm handshake, the way he maintained eye contact the whole time, strong and confident. There wasn't a trace of fear in his eyes, instead he had that hardened look about him.
The same one Jay saw in the mirror those first days after he had returned from Afghanistan.
Jay liked him already.
"Come on," he said, nodding his head towards the door. "Let's go."
Taking Rixton around and introducing him to the rest of the team, Platt, and the other uniformed officers in distrct 21 caused a much needed distraction throughout the morning, but as the clock ticked closer and closer to noon, Jay found his mind drifting back to the appointment.
Brooke's appointment.
Brooke's appointment where she was going to pick a sperm donor.
A father for her child, that wasn't him.
The thought was starting to make him physically ill.
He tried to shove the thought away as he showed Rixton the interrogation room, as he set him up with a locker, as he showed him the cage.
But it was still there. It was always there.
The intensity of the thought kind of shocked him. He had always, always been able to shove personal thoughts away. He had been able to bury things, and bury them deep.
It was one of the things that had made him an excellent soldier. It was the thing that made him an even better detective.
But for some reason, today, it wasn't working.
The thought wouldn't stop nagging at him. Even as he continued to tell himself that he was doing the right thing.
Brooke had wanted this since she was 21. In truth, she had probably wanted it even longer than that.
And they had known each other three weeks.
He couldn't jump into this with her even if he wanted it. What if it didn't work out?
What if his involvement tainted this beautiful thing she had planned to create completely by herself?
But what if it does work out?
What if it makes it more beautiful?
Stop. Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop.
You can't to ruin this for her.
And so it went. His thoughts going back and forth, swirling around and around in his mind, until the clock struck noon, until he couldn't take it anymore.
He excused himself for a moment, and moved towards the locker room, collapsing on the bench the second he walked into the room.
The same bench he had found Brooke sitting on, heartbroken and crying over Sam, before he had pressed his lips against hers and started it all.
If he could go back, would he change it?
No, he realized. Not a single thing.
He was surprised by how quickly that thought had come to his mind. Almost as quickly, he jumped up, and rushed for the door.
He finally knew what he had to do.
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"Ms. Davis," Dr. Lincoln walked through the door, and reached her hand out to shake Brooke's. She was short and thin, her blond hair clipped neatly in a low bun. Unlike any other doctor Brooke had come across throughout this process, she wasn't wearing a white coat. Instead, she was wearing a plain, but flattering brown dress and low-heeled shoes. She looked young, put together, and as warm as Chantal had been.
Brooke knew right away this was the right place for her. This is where she was meant to be. These were the people that were going to help her become a mom.
"My name is Dr. Lincoln, and we have a couple things to discuss," she continued.
"We do?" Brooke was confused by her tone, by the words Dr. Lincoln had spoken before she had even fully stepped through the door or sat down on the couch.
"We do," she nodded.
Then she sat down and voiced the words that would change Brooke's life forever.
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"Stay in the car," Jay said, as he shifted the government-issued car into park and pulled the keys from the ignition. "I'll be back soon. My phone and radio are both on."
"Okay?" Rixton said, eyeing Jay suspiciously. "This a doctor's office."
Even though he said the words as a statement, Jay knew he meant them as a question. "I'll explain later," he said quickly, not wanting to take the time to explain. At least not now. Then, he opened the car door and shuffled out.
He rushed through the lobby, finding the Chicago Fertility on the directory by the door, that listeed the names of each specific office in the building full of medical offices.
It was on the fifth floor.
In a flash, he was by the elevator, pressing the elevator button repeatedly, as if pressing it again and again would make it move faster, even though he knew better.
After an eternity, the door finally opened. But of course, it managed to stop on every floor between the lobby and the Fertility center.
Every. Fucking. Floor.
A few minutes later, he finally managed to find what he was looking for. He forced himself to calm his breathing, to slow his heart rate before he walked through the door.
"Hi," he said as he moved towards the receptionists desk. "I'm looking for Brooke Davis," he kept his voice low in the quiet waiting room.
The receptionist shifted her head, raising her eyebrow and giving him a confused stare. "Ms. Davis left 20 minutes ago."
"What?" Why? What?
That couldn't be. Her appointment was at 12. It was supposed to be a whole hour long. She had taken the longer appointment so she could get all of her questions answered.
Hadn't she?
He looked at his watch once again, verifying that he had the correct time.
She was supposed to be here.
She was supposed to be here for another 20 minutes.
His facial expression must have been an exact representation of what he was feeling inside, because Beatrice was now giving him a concerned look.
"Sir," she said, softly. "Can I get you some water?"
"No, thank you," he answered, immediately, dismissively.
Water wouldn't help.
Nothing would help.
He was too late.
xoxo
Please Review :)
And let me know your thoughts on my next project, lol :) Hope you're having a great week!
