When Snow Falls (Whiskey Creek #2)(90)
Author: Brenda Novak

He was waiting for her with that syringe. Escape was close.

Or was it really slavery? She had a terrible feeling she’d never have children if she went through with this, that she’d drift into obscurity. Already, she could see the track marks on her arm, felt self-conscious enough to hide them from the doctor. Was this what she really wanted to be? A drug addict? Someone who couldn’t contribute to life? Who had no one to love and no one to love her?

“Is that your boyfriend out there?” the doctor asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Presley had to clear her throat in order to speak. It felt as if she’d swallowed an orange. “No.”

“A friend?”

“More or less,” she replied.

The doctor continued to study her chart, then set the clipboard aside. “It appears you’ve sustained some injuries.” She came over to examine Presley’s black eye. “Want to tell me what happened?”

Presley averted her gaze. “Car accident.”

When there was no response, she looked back at the doctor. Eyes slightly magnified by her glasses, she studied Presley without responding. Then she said, “Are you going to stick with that story?”

Presley bit her lip. “It’s as good as any other.”

The doctor’s fingers curled around her upper arm as a way to gain her undivided attention. “If you need help, I know of a shelter nearby,” she said softly. “After we finish here, we could sneak you out. He’ll never know where you went.”

Presley opened her mouth to deny that it was Dick who’d hurt her. But what was the point in lying? “I—I’m fine.” It wasn’t as if he’d ever forced her to stay. And there was that syringe in his pocket. How could she get by without it?

“You can have a few minutes to decide. Consider doing yourself a favor, giving yourself a chance at a better life.”

When tears suddenly welled up in her eyes, she tried to blink them back, but they streamed down her cheeks, anyway.

The doctor bent her head to see into Presley’s face. “Is there any family we can call?”

Presley thought of her sister. Cheyenne had always been there for her. But how could she turn to Cheyenne after what she’d done?

“No,” she murmured.

“Okay.” The doctor gave her a gentle pat. “Just relax. This won’t hurt a bit.” She encouraged Presley to lie back and place her feet in the stirrups, but a jolt of sheer panic made that impossible. Her heart had jumped into her throat, racing so fast she was afraid she’d pass out.

The doctor paused. “It’s a relatively simple procedure.”

But her baby—Aaron’s baby—would be gone when it was over. That meant she could go back to life as she knew it. But was that really worth the trade-off?

“Are you having second thoughts?” the doctor asked.

Presley pictured Aaron. He didn’t care about her, and he definitely wasn’t ready for a child. As far as he was concerned, they’d just been having fun, getting high, having sex, laughing. He’d said so, many times, whenever she wanted to get serious.

Raising a child was a lifelong commitment. But she was thirty-three years old. When was she going to grow up?

“Ms. Christensen, I’m getting the impression you don’t really want to go through with this,” the doctor said.

“If I don’t…if I decide to keep the baby…do you think it’ll be okay?”

“You’re not even showing, so you can’t be very far along. That’s good. Are you using?”

She nodded and turned her arms.

The doctor examined the track marks. “You’d have to stop. Now. No alcohol, either.”

“And then you think my baby would be healthy?”

“There are no guarantees, but I’d say there’s a good chance. Certain tests can give us an indication, so you’ll be able to make a more informed decision later on.”

A good chance…

“Take some time to think about it. You can always come back another day.”

But what would she do even if the baby was perfect? She wasn’t capable of raising a child. Cheyenne might be willing to stand by her, but she couldn’t go back to Whiskey Creek. Not for any length of time. She’d be showing in a few months.

“I—I need some help,” she whispered.

“Rehab?” the doctor asked since she’d already turned down the shelter.

She needed her sister. To tell Cheyenne the truth about what Anita did. To walk out of here and never look back. To put her heart and soul into loving those around her, loving her baby, instead of destroying herself.

Most of all, she needed to fight her craving for what was in that damn syringe.

“Can I use your phone?” she asked.

31

Cheyenne wasn’t sure what to expect when they arrived at the address Presley had given her. It turned out to be an abortion clinic in Phoenix. Since it was well past ten, the clinic should be closed, but there was a light burning inside.

She dialed the number Presley had called her from hours earlier, when they were leaving Los Angeles.

“Hello?” The woman who answered had a thick Mexican accent.

“This is Cheyenne Christensen. I’m here to pick up my sister.”

“Wonderful. She has been waiting for you. I will unlock the door.”

Taking a steadying breath, she shot Dylan a look that begged his forbearance—she felt because she should go in alone—and got out of the car.

The woman who met her at the door seemed to be in her forties, had dark skin, long black hair and bright, shiny eyes. She introduced herself as Maria Sanchez, the receptionist at the clinic, and thanked Cheyenne for coming.

“I’m so grateful to you for staying with her,” Cheyenne said.

A smile curved the other woman’s lips. “I could not release her into that man’s hands. He is a devil.”

“What man?”

“The man who brought her in. When you see her face… But she is fine. Do not worry. Her injuries will heal. There is nothing serious.”

Injuries? Presley hadn’t mentioned that she was hurt. She’d talked about the blonde woman in Cheyenne’s memories and what she knew about Anita as if she couldn’t wait to get it off her chest. “That’s why you stayed? To keep her safe?” she asked Maria.

“What else have we got in life if we do not help one another?” she replied with a shrug.

Cheyenne wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. “That’s true. Still, it was very nice of you.”