Not So Single Dad's Club

06

an: I re wrote the chapter

"Dad come on, you're getting old" Bronx groans as drags me onto the baseball field. I grab the backpack full of baseballs and walk out to the center of the field "why can't Patrick do this, I know nothing about baseball, or sports in general" I groan and grab the pitchers mitt.

"Cause Patrick wants to watch you make a fool of yourself" I hear my boyfriend whisper into my ear, pressing a kiss to my neck. He backs off and Bronx groans "no PDA." I pull the glove on and throw the ball at Bronx who swigs and hits it.

Patrick whistles "good hit." I grab another ball and throw it at him, he hits it and it comes directly flying at me and I double over when it hits me in the stomach. I throw up onto the field and Patrick grabs my sides, he shouting something but I can't understand it. Bronx runs over and I fall onto the dirt, clutching my stomach. Bronx and Patrick are both yelling now. I can taste something metallic, probably blood, which makes me throw up again.

Patrick picks me up and I hear sirens wailing, Bronx is crying and I can barely breathe. Patrick keeps kissing my forehead and then I'm whisked into the ambulance.

—

"Scoot over Dad" Bronx says, I groan and move over a bit. He jumps onto the bed and wraps his arms around my torso, I whimper and he immediately pulls away. "Pete..." Patrick sighs and walks over to me, he has blood on his white shirt and his eyes are red and puffy. "'Trick what happened?" He sighs and sits on the bed, making it a tight squeeze between the three of us. His eyes wander to my stomach, fuck. I pull my hospital gown up and see that the tiny, tiny bump that was there this morning was gone.

I start to sob, Patrick is crying too and his arms wrap tightly around me. Bronx doesn't seem to understand what's happening but he starts to cry into my chest. My sobs turn into ugly hiccup crying that makes my whole body quake under Patricks touch. "P-Pops what happened?" Bronx asks.

"Gone" is all I can say. Patrick nods, Bronx sits up straighter "were y-you p-pregnant?" I nod and he bites his lip "fuck..." Patrick's fingers sneak under my hospital gown and he rests his hand on my stomach. "I'm so sorry. Fuck, it's all my fault.." Bronx starts to cry but I shake my head "it's ok B, I'm not blaming you. I'm probably too old anyways" I tell him and rub his knee. He wipes his tears away and smiles at Patrick and I.

"Can we go home though? My whole body hurts" I mutter into Patricks chest. He smiles "yeah, Nick is coming over tomorrow just to check on you." A nurse comes in and Patrick and Bronx have to leave so she can see if I'm okay to go home. She is very quiet and seems to be uncomfortable around me, I don't mind though the less I have to talk the better. Before she leave she points at my clothes sitting in a neat pile on a chair. I change and we head back home.

On the drive home Bronx keep apologizing, eventually I tell him if he apologizes again I would take his phone away for a week, then he shut up. Patrick doesn't talk at all, he has a frown on his lips the whole ride home and even when we pull up. After entering the house his frown turns into a pout, I wrap my arm and his waist. He doesn't really react. "Trick, you alright?" He shrugs and squirms out of my grip, heading towards the backyard. I walk to our bedroom slowly, really moving as slow as possible because that was that caused me the least amount of pain.

Our bed is cold but I still let out a cry celebration when I flop onto it face first. I just lay there for a few minutes until Bronx jumps onto the bed "dad, pops is moping out outside and I texted Declan and he said to call Pat.... I got her number so maybe you should call her." Bronx hands me his phone and I call the number on his screen.

"'Ello?" A women with a harsh Russian accent answers. "Um... Hey, I'm Peter Wentz and my boyfriend, your son, is being a bit down. Dec said I should call Pat, I'm guessing that's you...?" The women on the other line chuckles "hello Peter. Patrick is a bit blue sometimes, if you send me the address I'll be there in a few." I sigh happily "thank you so much Ms. Stumph." She laughs again "it's Pat or Patricia, no Ms or Miss bull shit." I chuckle awkwardly and she hangs up.