Dramatic, Mushy, Complicated Love by Leah Sharelle (fantasy novels to read .txt) 📕

pale, her eyes normally so bright, were now tired and sad. I came close to falling to my knees when she looked at me, running towards her, seeing her so different and yet the same. The way she whispered my name like a prayer gave me hope that I had not completely lost her.

I didn’t mean to jump down her throat or speak so sternly to her. I didn’t mean to accuse her of keeping our child from me, but she was pushing me away by not letting me drive her or talk to her and explain myself. Didn’t she know I needed her to breathe? The last few weeks proved that, day after lonely day without her.

Following the luxury European car driven by a dead man, I knew where we were heading to, but I didn’t trust whoever those two guys were not to pull a swiftie. Whoever they were to Meadow, I could tell she trusted them, and she wouldn’t let just any random blokes hold her hand or call her silly names of endearments. I thought at first one of them was her ex, Matt; jealousy reared its ugly head, and I was ready to take them both on–anything to get their hands off Meadow.

Seeing that he was indicating to turn into a carpark, I copied swinging my car into the park directly beside them and quickly jumped out of the car, only barely taking time to cut the engine and shove the transmission into first. Getting to Meadow before one of the douche’s did what I was focused on doing.

Darting around the car, I grabbed the handle and yanked open the door, my breath catching in my throat when Meadow looked up at me through her lashes.

“Good driving, Spunk.” Her sass didn’t come with the bright smile or the spark in her green’s, but I would take anything as long as she kept calling me that name.

“I didn’t trust them to try and lose me,” I admitted gruffly, “here, baby, let me help you.” Holding out my hand, Meadow placed hers in mine and allowed me to assist her out, thank fucking God! The stupid chatter from the morons continued from the footpath, and I did my best to ignore it. I hated that they had been looking after my girl and not me, but also grateful that she hadn’t been alone. My mother’s games had obviously taken their toll on Meadow, not helped by my less than stellar support.

For the past two days, I had kicked my arse over and over after dealing with Mum. Finding out the truth of it, finally realising how blind I have been where my family was concerned really knocked the stuffing out of me. I had two days to come to terms with the fact that my mother may not ever be present in my life, spending all of yesterday at the cemetery sitting on the edge of my father’s marble grave talking it out with him.

My main question is why? Why would Mum be so cruel, so conniving, and so hateful, going to the lengths she did? Was it forgivable? It took me hours to decide that only one person had the answer to that.

Meadow.

I was going to let her decide for the both of us, and no matter what she decided I vowed to accept and go along with it.

“Something tells me they are in cahoots with Spring and Ace,” Meadow grumbled, easing to her feet, “they are just taking their roles in this play a little too seriously.”

Wrapping an arm around her waist, I was shocked to feel the bones at her hip were much more noticeably prominent. And it didn’t escape me how she leaned against me for support, her tired sigh breaking my heart.

Gently tightening my fingers at her hip, I growled under my breath, “Meadow, when was the last time you ate?”

“I can’t keep too much down these days; just green tea and gummy bears seem to make the baby happy.”

Biting my tongue, I refrained from voicing my disapproval. Meadow didn’t need me jumping down her throat again and not over something she really didn’t have any control over. Later, when we are back at my house … our house, I will have my say, but until then, I was here to support her and find out as much as possible about our unborn child and what I had to do to get Meadow physically healthy again.

It didn’t take long to get signed in, then we took a seat in the waiting room, Meadow in my lap because I gave her no other option when I pulled her down on me, wrapping my arms around her while filling in her details. The whole time the two morons tossed out insults and pathetic attempts at scaring me. I ignored them and concentrated on the papers and Meadow. I lost count of how many times I asked her if she was okay, did she want something to eat, did she need to go to the toilet, remembering that was a common complaint for Ace’s sister when she was carrying her baby last year.

Each question was answered with a soft no and a headshake against my shoulder. It worried me how much of her light was extinguished, and I missed her throwing her sass back at me, standing up against my overbearing need to protect her. The independent streak I loved the most about her, nowhere to be seen.

“Meadow Tessler?” A nurse appeared at the entrance to the waiting room, calling out and looking around.

“That’s me,” Meadow answered, smiling at the young nurse.

I choked on my laugh when she gawked at Meadow sitting on my knee, appearing taken back by our display. Meadow giggled too, rolling her eyes at me, almost like her old self but, when the nurse sniffed and tilted her chin up in a snobbish display, Meadow tensed in my arms. I immediately knew that she was thinking about my mother, and until