"Lindsay who was that?" Danny asked, his mind prepping itself for competition, if he had any.
"What makes you think you have the right to know?" she countered, feeling satisfaction from his obvious jealousy. "Maybe I was screwing him; while you were screwing that whore."
He closed his eyes, and dropped his head, struck by her venomous words.
"Oh wait, I'm sorry, you weren't screwing her, you were guilt fucking her right? To help ease your guilt over something you had no control over. Like your dick has some magic potion or something?"
Frustrated Danny stood up and began pacing, "Goddamit Lindsay just tell me who the fuck that guy was!" he yelled, running his hand through his hair.
Narrowing her eyes at him, her chest beginning to heave, "You have no right to question me like I'm a perp. I am allowed to know people you have never met before. I'm allowed to have FAMILY in town."
His head whipped around when she said family. He breathed a visible sigh of relief. When he looked at Lindsay he noticed her face had contorted and suddenly she was leaned over the side of the bed as much as she could throw up. Clamoring to her he held her hair back, and ran his hand up and down her back, and used her momentary distraction to kiss her head. When she was done, he helped her lean back on the bed and went to the bathroom.
When he came back out, he had a garbage bucket in one hand and a wet wash cloth in the other.
She smiled weakly at him, when he put the wash cloth on her face, the dampness seeping through her pours seemingly calming her nerves.
"I told ya I was gonna take care of ya, Montana," he said softly to her, gently kissing her head again.
She was glad the wash cloth was covering her face; because she let a few stray tears escape her eyes. This was her Danny. The Danny she fell in love with. The Danny that flew 2,000 miles to her home state just because she needed him, without her even having to tell him.
She heard him come back into the room again, and set a glass on her bed side table. Then she heard a swishing sound by the bed, him cleaning up her vomit. Removing the cloth from her face, she looked at his balding spot on the back of his head. She smiled softly to herself remembering all the times she picked on him about it, her fingers knotted in his hair teasing him that she pulled a little bit harder they it all might just come out.
"I guess it's the morning sickness thing pregnant woman always talk about," she said softly, "That and the drugs maybe."
He looked up at her, noting she looked calmer now, a little paler but calmer, "Or maybe my kid has a weird sense of humor?" he joked. 'Or maybe his way of telling us not to fight.' He thought to himself, but didn't dare say it aloud. He knew they probably were going to have lots more screaming matches, or rather her yelling at him which he knew he more than deserved.
She laughed softly, and fiddled with her fingers a little. The uncomfortable rift between them like the giant elephant in the room it was.
"Montana, I uh," he started softly, "I'm sorry about yelling at you. And about getting mad about that guy."
"Brett. His name is Brett. He's just my cousin. Uncle Freddie's son," she said, "No guy is going to want a woman who has been shot and is carrying some man's kid," she said a bite sarcastically.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, "I do," he said honestly.
She looked up at him, her breath catching a little in her own throat, but then quickly diverted her eyes.
"Lindsay we need to talk about this."
A/N: Thanks DTD!!