she was carrying his baby and was due to deliver in about a week or so. Being coldly honest with herself, Devon knew that Jack hadn’t taken the truck for one reason and one reason only. The truck was still there, parked right outside of the rundown motel, because Jack couldn’t find the keys to it.
He wasn’t able to find them because she’d had this uneasy feeling that Jack was having second thoughts about the plans they had laid out for their future. Not knowing what Jack might impulsively decide to do, she had tucked the keys to the truck under her pillow—smack in the center so that even if he did suspect they were there, he would have had to move her in such a way that she was certain to wake up.
Looking back now as she scanned the desolate area—weren’t there supposed to be some people around this forsaken wilderness?—Devon couldn’t have said exactly what had possessed her to hide the keys, but maybe, somewhere deep down, she didn’t really trust Jack anymore. Oh, he’d smiled a lot and talked about these grand plans he had for the two of them, promising that everything would be wonderful once they got to Houston.
They’d left Taos, New Mexico, because Jack had come into their small apartment one morning telling her that he’d lined up another job—a much better job—and it was waiting for him in Houston. They’d been together for almost three years and they’d gotten engaged after four pregnancy tests had yielded the same answer: positive.
At the time, she’d thought that finding out she was pregnant would send Jack packing, but Jack surprised her. He stayed.
He’d even looked as if he was happy about it. The baby, the engagement, the promise of a new job—he made it sound as if all they needed was a new beginning to make everything work out.
She’d had no reason to doubt him.
No reason except perhaps the nagging, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach—something apart from morning sickness for a change—warning her that maybe, just maybe it was too good to be true.
And she had learned a long time ago that if something seemed too good to be true, then it usually wasn’t.
“Usually? Always. It’s always too good to be true,” Devon retorted, the realization all but tearing her up.
Tears began to gather in her eyes, threatening to fall, to make her come apart. Devon struggled to hold herself together. She didn’t even know where she was going, other than just heading somewhere “due east” because that was the direction they’d been driving in when they’d pulled up to that sad little motel.
It hadn’t been her first choice. She had located an actually decent hotel that was about ten miles up the road, but Jack had vetoed it, saying that hotel would eat into “their” capital.
The only capital Jack was acquainted with was the first letter to his name. The money was hers—or it had been before he’d taken it, along with the gold cross her mother, Amy, had left her and the earrings that might or might not have been worth something. Whatever actual dollar amount the jewelry was worth, both pieces had meant the world to her because they were all she had left from her mother.
But to Jack the jewelry was just something to be converted into cash at his first opportunity.
So he’d left her with her truck and taken everything else. Because she’d had no money to pay the desk clerk, she’d been forced to sneak out while dawn was still creeping in. She’d assuaged her conscience by promising herself that she’d find him, that no good, sweet-talking thief—not because she wanted him back, but because she wanted to pay the motel clerk and, more than that, recover her mother’s cross and earrings.
But where the hell could he have gotten to?
And where on earth was she?
When she’d tried to pinpoint her location on her smartphone’s GPS, Devon could have sworn that if her phone had had actual hands, it would have been scratching its head.
She was in the middle of nowhere—and getting more deeply entrenched.
More tears stung her eyes.
“Serves me right for thinking that just once in my life, things were going to go WELLL! OMIGOD!”
The pain, sudden and sharp and completely unexpected, had come leaping out at her from nowhere.
Devon had been upset and overwrought and paying attention to the road, not to the signals her body was sending her. In her defense, she’d been experiencing strange sensations and odd little pains off and on for a while now.
Scanning her memory bank now, she realized that her lower half had been feeling very, very strange, but then, that could have easily described the way her bottom had been feeling ever since she’d found that she was pregnant.
Focused on hunting Jack down, she’d had no reason to believe that this “strange” feeling was any different than all the other strange feelings she’d been experiencing all along.
Except that it was different.
She’d never quite had this pain before. Never felt like two giant hands had each taken hold of one of her legs and were now about to make a wish just before they pulled them apart in two opposite directions.
“Can’t you wait, Michael?” she begged, addressing her very swollen abdomen by the name she had selected. Not that she knew the baby’s gender. She’d just assumed that it was male because it had been giving her such a hard time from the moment she’d conceived him. “You’re not supposed to be here yet and, in case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere. I can’t do this alone. Sorry to disappoint you, little boy, but I am not the pioneer type.
“There, you have had the worst of it,” she told her unborn son as the pain settled down a little. “Except that your father’s a rat, but we’ll talk about that later. Like in a week and a half,” she stressed. “Please wait a week and a half.”
She went on reasoning with the baby that seemed intent on kicking its way out now. “Please, please, PLEEEASE!” she shrieked, unable to contain the pain.
Sweat was pouring down from her brow and her tears were mingling with it, pooling along the hollow of her throat.
Devon couldn’t believe that this was actually happening, that she was going to die in the middle of nowhere, giving birth.
“This is not happening now,” she yelled at her stomach. “Do you hear me? I’m your mother and I forbid you to come out!”
Another scream tore from her lips, taking a tremendous toll on her body. She was beginning to feel as if she was hallucinating.
“You’re not going to listen, are you?” she asked weakly. A deep, frustrated sigh emerged from the center of her very core. “Not even born and you’re already a typical male.”
The next wave of pain completely stole her breath away, making her pant.
Making her panic.
“No, no panicking. Panicking is bad,” she admonished herself, trying desperately to exercise some measure of control, putting mind over matter.
But it wasn’t helping.
Nothing was helping. She was coming apart at the seams, literally, and nobody
