Nick Carter stared helplessly at the coffee table. His anger and hurt were too strong to allow him to look at the person sitting beside him.
"I did it for us, Nick." She cooed softly. "We couldn't have such a burden on our shoulders right now."
A burden? His mind scoffed accusingly. Since when was a child a burden?
He thought on that for a second. Being the oldest of five kids and having a half-sister, he couldn't see how children were a burden.
"What was it?" He asked softly, the tears already threatening to burn his eyes.
She faltered then, "Um, it was uh, too early to tell."
Nick shook his head, stumbling over her words gave her away. "Bull shit!" He cursed her loudly, his gaze locked intensely on the water ring on the glass table. "Tell me what it was!" His demand was low, but harsh.
She faltered again, "It was a girl."
He closed his eyes against the ache consuming his heart. "Did you name her?"
Her head bobbed slowly, "Summer Nicole." She answered meekly.
"When?" His voice croaked out painfully.
"When what?" She asked impatiently, not liking to be so questioned and so ignored.
"When did you do it?" Nick asked slowly, carefully. Deliberately pronouncing each syllable.
"Last month." She remarked caustically.
That was the last draw, "Last month!" He yelled as he jumped quickly from his spot.
He paced for a second before settling his gaze on her in a harsh glare; "Did you bury her?" He growled unsteadily. Feeling whatever control he had left slipping away.
Christina didn't look up at him, but stared at her hands resting on her knees. Truth be known, she was scared. Of him, and what he would do. Weakly, she gave a small nod.
Nick grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet in an instant. His long fingers biting painfully into her skin, "Where is she buried?" He asked scathingly.
She looked in his eyes, the blue hidden and replaced with red fury. "At the county cemetery."
It was whispered, but barely audible. Nick had to strain his ears to hear it.
"Where?" He demanded sharply. "Tell me exactly where she's buried!"
"Row thirty-two, plot nine." More or less, her words were mouthed, since she was trembling so much with fear.
Almost instantly Nick had released his grip on her arm and dropped his to his side. "Leave." He said hoarsely.
Christina didn't move. Her legs were weak and she didn't think she could stand much longer without collapsing. Slowly sinking towards the couch, she let out a yelp when Nick grabbed her arm again. "I said leave!" He shouted in her face.
She stared at him, the tears glistening in his eyes was unmistakable and his face was turning a soft shade of red from the strenuous emotions running through him.
Blindly she stumbled towards the door on wobbly legs. Turning the knob she gave him one last look. But he kept his back to her and his head lowered.
She left silently, and Nick sighed loudly. Soon the silence in his house became so loud it was almost deafening. Grabbing his jacket off the armrest of the couch, he headed for the door as well. Slamming it shut behind him and stalking over to his car.
Driving cleared his head, but the ache in his heart was still painfully obvious. Taking a sharp corner, then making an illegal U-turn, Nick started driving towards the cemetery. He had to go there now, and see it for himself.
Pulling up into the quiet resting-place, Nick allowed himself to exit the car. With a bouquet of daisies in his hand, he slowly started towards the area where his unborn child was lain.
Several times he swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the hard lump that was forming in his throat, and he kept sniffling to keep back the tears he so desperately tried not to cry.
Getting down on bended knee, he gently laid the bouquet in front of the tiny headstone. The name written there angered him; Christina hadn't even given him the right to let their child bear his name.
He knew Christina's parents had to have spent a great deal of money on this. No one buried abortioned babies. Wondering if his child, was in fact, buried there, the tears fell uncontrollably.
Tenderly, Nick caressed the cold stone. Sighing, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting the sun dry his face.
Suddenly anger coursed through his veins. It was sunny, there were no clouds, it wasn't raining, what kind of world was this? It was as if nature was mocking the turmoil he was in, and not consoling him.
Biting down on his lip, he tasted the rich metallic taste of blood on his tongue. Carefully, he turned his eyes back onto the grave. Again he touched the cold stone, wishing for a warm response. But never received one.
"I love you, Summer." He whispered lovingly, as one more tear fell from the corner of his eye.
Standing up he started to back away, knowing that he would never be completely whole again.