Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 82(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
“What did you do?” Mom asks as I sit down with a bowl of cereal at the kitchen bar.
“What do you mean?”
“What did you do to Gwen?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Bullshit. Men always do something.”
“Jesus, Tracy,” my Dad, Trent, says while fixing his coffee.
“Not you, Trent. Other men. Most men.”
“Damn, Mom. Dig it deeper,” Heather says. My family is hilarious, but I love them.
“Not me. I’m not most men, either, Mom. I didn’t do anything; I swear I didn’t. I couldn’t do anything to her. I love her. I will always love her. I still don’t know why she did this to us.” I love that girl more than my next breath.
“You’re sure you didn’t do anything? Anything at all?” Mom asks.
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe she just needed some space. I have faith that everything will work out. It has to.”
“I do, too. I won’t accept anything less.”
“That’s my boy,” she says, grabbing her briefcase. “I’m late for work.” She’s a lawyer, a damn good one at that.
I see her all day long at school. At the lockers. In the cafeteria. In the parking lot. It was pure torture. At the end of the day, I walk out of my last class and immediately spot her in the hallway. Her back is to her locker. She’s talking to Kyle Harrison, and I see fucking red. I’m about to storm over to her when Ryder grabs my arm. Kyle fucking Harrison is why she wanted to be free? You have got to be fucking kidding me.
“Don’t, man. You don’t want to open that can of worms.”
“I do. I really fucking do.”
He drags me out of the hallway and out into the parking lot.
“Get in your truck and go to work, Hunter. Don’t make me kick your ass.”
“What?” The thought of my best friend kicking my ass is laughable; not that he couldn’t do it, he just wouldn’t do it.
“I’ll kick your ass if I have to. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. He’s her lab partner. You know he’s going with Kitty Jensen.”
If I could form two coherent thoughts, I’d have remembered that. I take a deep breath and get into my truck. “Thanks, man.”
“You’re welcome.”
I have got to get my shit together. I drive to the house my crew and I are almost done with. I work until well past dark installing plumbing fixtures, crossing another thing off my checklist. I drive across town and climb up my tree to see my girl. I can’t sleep until I do. The light is on in her room, but she’s not in it. So, I wait.
Eventually, her bathroom door opens, and she comes into view. She steps in front of the mirror and drops her robe. She starts rubbing lotion on her naked body. I should feel bad for spying on her like this, but I’ve seen her naked so many times I know every freckle she has. Then she smoothes lotion over her belly and I almost swallow my tongue. Her belly is newly rounded, and her boobs are bigger. I’d chalk it up to post-break-up weight gain, but then she lovingly strokes her belly. And sobs. I can clearly hear her sobs through the window. She’s fucking pregnant, and she didn’t tell me. She’s crying and pregnant. She didn’t tell me. She ended things with me. Why? Why wouldn’t she want me to know about this? I don’t know what she could have possibly been thinking. I have to physically restrain myself from busting into her bedroom and pulling her into my arms. I want to comfort her. I want her to stop crying. They are killing me. My heart is breaking in two. How dare she keep something like this from me? There is no excuse. I want all the things she’s been denying us for the last two months.
Despite my anger at the moment, she’s carrying my child. There’s no way in hell I’ll ever let her go now.
chapter five
Gwendolyn
The Next Day
I slept like shit. Partially because I tossed and turned all night, still filled with a desire I don’t think I am ever going to release, and the other thing is I am a stomach sleeper, and well, that is not happening anytime soon. I pull myself out of bed and look through my closet. Even though I am sick of overalls, what else do I have? Then my eye catches on this romper I picked up last week. It’s cuter but a bit longer than I would have gotten, say, four months ago.
Smiling, I put it on because it is the first time in a while I don’t feel completely awful. I braid my hair to the side, but I still don’t bother with makeup. I slide into my sandals that I haven't worn in months, but they just so happen to go with the outfit. Grabbing my book bag and phone, I walk down the stairs, and immediately, my mood takes a nose dive.