Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97409 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“I’m going to go before I get really insulted by you guys.” I push away from the table. “I’m a respectable man.” I put my hand on my chest. “And what happens between Collins and me is between us. We are both two consenting adults.”
“Does one of you want two broken legs?” Brock glares at me. “I’m not talking about her.”
I roll my eyes. “I have to go now. This has been so much fun. We should never do this again.” I turn and walk out of the bakery, looking right and left, but I know she’s long gone.
All I can do is picture Collins and her wild eyes as she sat in front of me, so nervous and scared shitless that it radiated off her. I should have known it was as bad as it was. She was shaking when I got here. She did start to calm down, but as soon as someone came into the bakery, she started trembling again, like she wanted to crawl out of her skin. Truth be told, I don’t think I would have been as brave and quiet as she was when she told me the news. I would have come in guns blazing and shouting down the rooftop.
“Dude,” Brock says. I groan and turn my head, rubbing my hands over my face. “Seriously, don’t be stupid. People probably started the phone chain when they saw the two of you sitting together. Take it from me, don’t do that to her.”
“I’m not doing anything to her.” I put my hands on my hips. “We literally just had coffee.”
“That is not what everyone else is going to say. It’s going to be you being the victim, and all eyes will be on her, and buddy, I’ve got to tell you. The eyes are not going to be kind.” My back goes straight at his words.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” My tone is tight, and he just looks at me.
“It’s not my story to tell. Just let it fucking go and leave her fucking be.” He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything. Instead, he just turns and walks away, heading down to his garage.
I put my head down, and I can hear her voice again: I’m pregnant. My head spins as I walk to my truck.
I get in at the same time the phone rings, so I put it to my ear. “Yeah.”
“Hey,” Caleb says, “can you do me a favor?”
I look out the window of my truck at the people walking down the street, my eyes still stupidly scanning for her. “Yeah, what do you need?”
“Can you go to Sierra’s house and pick up a couple of things for her?”
“What?” I ask, not sure I heard him. “What kind of things? Like clothes and shit?”
“Yeah.” He laughs. “Sorry, I’ll call Lilah.”
“That would be a better idea. I didn’t even want to touch anything in there yesterday when I was looking for your shirt,” I tell him. “So it’s safe to say I’m not going to be doing that ever again. If you want me to bring you food, I’m the guy. I can even arrange to have shit cleaned up or fixed, but I’m not going through drawers and shit.”
He laughs. “Got it. Okay, are you coming by today?”
“I was there this morning when I brought everyone coffee,” I remind him. “You were going to pull your hair out of your head when Sierra refused to listen to you and stay in her bed.”
“This morning feels like a year ago,” he laments.
“Tell me about it.”
“Everything okay with you?”
No, I almost say, but the last thing he needs right now is me raining down on him. Plus, what could I possibly say? I had a one-night stand two months ago, and now she tells me she’s having my baby. I close my eyes. “I’m good. I’m going to be you today and pretend to work, and drive around to the worksites.”
“Go fuck yourself.” He laughs and then dead air. The screen is back to my screen saver, a picture of the lake right behind my parents’ house, with the rising sun reflecting on the water. I took it on what was supposed to be the best day of my life. It ended up being the worst. Now it’s a reminder to never let myself feel the way I did that day. I’ll never put myself out there like that again. I exhale as I pull away from the bakery.
I go through the motions of the day, stopping at the seven worksites we have.
When I finally get home, I park the truck and get out. As the door slams shut, a red car pulls up at the curb. I squint to see who the fuck it is.
The driver’s side door opens, and a woman with curly black hair slides out. Her eyes come to mine when she smiles.