Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 52357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“You’re gonna need to hydrate more,” she says. “Your blood pressure’s dipping.”
“I’ve been hydrating,” I lie.
She gives me a look. “Whiskey doesn’t count.”
“Damn. There goes my recovery plan.”
She smiles, but she’s not laughing. I’m in the chair for hours. I fall asleep for part of it.
I dream about riding, something I haven’t done as much lately. Dia on the back of my bike, arms tight around me, wind rushing past like a song. I dream we’re somewhere warm. Nowhere in particular. Just gone. Just free.
When I wake up, I’m freezing. Shaking uncontrollably.
Marcy wraps another blanket around me and dials back the drip.
“You’re pushing too hard,” she says.
I don’t respond. Because she’s right. But stopping now?
Not an option.
By the time I’m back in the truck, my hands are trembling on the steering wheel. I drive slow. I make it back to my place without puking, but it’s close.
I get out. Sit on the front steps.
Stare up at the sky like maybe it’ll give me an answer.
My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Dia:
Can you come by?
I don’t hesitate.
She’s waiting at the door when I pull up, wrapped in a hoodie and looking like she hasn’t slept. Her eyes lock on mine the second I step out.
“You okay?” she asks before I’m even close.
I don’t lie. I shake my head.
She steps aside, lets me in. “You wanna sit?” she asks. “I should have been there,” she mutters more to herself than me.
I lower onto her couch, arms braced on my knees. She sits beside me. Not too close, but close enough.
“You okay?” I ask her since she asked me to come over.
She sighs, “I missed you, Justin. I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I checked out while you’ve had treatments. I just got all in my head in a way I shouldn’t have.” She smiles. “I miss the way things feel casual and calm when you’re with me. I miss the way I feel when I see you. Selfishly, I don’t like being apart. You are my best friend and my support in this. I want us to move in together. I need things to be casual for me to bring this baby into the world without all the crazy of having a dead dad right off the bat.”
Casual, she wants that, I’ll give her that. “I talked to Little Foot,” I say after a while. Her eyes widen. “Yeah?”
“He called to check in.”
Dia nods slowly. “Word travels fast in the club. You might need to tell them.”
“He knows enough. I didn’t tell him everything.”
“You think you should?”
I shrug. “Not yet.”
She pauses. Then softly, “What about the club?”
“I’ll tell them when I can’t hide it anymore.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
“Maybe not. But it’s what I’ve got.”
“Just like I want to be there for you, your brothers want to as well. And just like I miss you, I know all the Haywood’s Landing brothers missed you and want you around.”
We sit in silence.
Eventually, her hand finds mine.
“I’m scared for you,” she whispers.
I nod. “Me too.”
And that’s the truest thing I’ve said in weeks.
TWELVE
DIA
"Be like a bear: strong enough to stand alone, yet wise enough to work together." — Unknown
The cemetery is quiet.
It always is.
Even when the wind cuts across the grass or birds cry out in the trees, the noise doesn’t reach this place. Not really.
I kneel beside Clutch’s new permanent headstone, fingers brushing over his name like I need the stone to feel my apology.
Benjamin Henderson.
Son. Loved deeply. Missed eternally.
There’s no mention of me here, but I don’t need it. He’s in me. Always has been.
I sit cross-legged beside the grave, hands resting on my belly, still small, still barely visible, but there. I wonder when my belly will pop out.
“I guess I should start with the obvious,” I murmur. “I’m pregnant.”
The words come easier than I expect. Maybe because I’ve said them out loud a dozen times by now. Maybe because I know, wherever he is, he probably already knows.
“It’s yours.” My voice wavers. “But for a moment, I was worried it wasn’t. The timeline makes it yours. Justin’s treatment makes him sterile so I guess it’s time to really wrap my head around it. Benji, we’re having a baby.”
The truth hangs in the air. Heavy. Unforgiving.
“I’m sorry about things with Justin. It’s not planned. I obviously didn’t expect to see him and in time have all these feelings again. I guess that’s what happens when you don’t actually get closure the first time. I wasn’t ready. For any of this. For you leaving. For someone else seeing me when I didn’t even know if I could look at myself.”
I exhale, slow. “Justin’s been, well, everything. Kind. Strong. He doesn’t flinch when I cry or when I can’t find the words. He listens. He sends soup and doesn’t ask questions and shows up when I don’t even know I need someone.”