Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
“Hey, where are you going?” Chrissy says, even snapping her fingers. “You just got this spaced-out look in your eye.”
“I was thinking about Mom,” I admit.
“Hold on a hot second,” Chrissy says. “When you get that look, you’re thinking about the video she left?”
“Yeah, sort of. I also imagine what she’d say to me.”
“You hear her voice?”
“Not literally. I’m not nuts, but I’ve watched the video so many times that I can hear that voice in my head. I can imagine what she’d say in certain situations based on lessons she tried to teach me.”
“And… is any of it good?”
I swallow, not wanting to admit this. “No, it’s mostly judgmental. Everything I do is wrong. That’s how it feels, but I loved her.”
“Hey, I know. I’d never doubt that, but this has been a lot for you to carry. You were saying Rust feels like a perv?”
“He acts like he should be ashamed. He thinks I’m much less mature than him, like I can’t be trusted to make decisions. Then he fucks me anyway, and we do other stuff.”
“You’re right. It is a lot. I don’t think you need to rush into anything. You’ve got—what—months until you start showing, right? Take it slow. Breathe, girl. You need to sort through one problem at a time. What’s bothering you right now?”
“I guess, Brad. It’s awkward between us.”
“So focus on that for the next few hours—one thing at a time. Then, later, you and Rust can talk. You can figure out what you’re going to do.”
“There are only two options: end it or tell Brad.”
Chrissy nods. “Then you need to tell Brad.”
I fold my arms, squeezing them tightly, my thoughts flashing with all the possible reactions. None of them are good. “He sacrificed everything for me,” I say, “and this is how I repay him. He could’ve played college football, but he stayed behind for me. For me.”
“It’s already done,” Chrissy says softly. “You made that choice when you made love and when he tattooed you. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”
I sit back. “What do you think, then? Is Rust a creep? Remember how hot you used to find him?”
“Hey, that’s not fair. I didn’t know how you felt, and for the record, I’m not into older men anymore.”
“Neither am I,” I mutter. “It’s not because he’s older. It’s because he’s Rust.”
“It is a big age gap,” she says. “Thirteen years. Plus, he’s known you almost his whole life. People might think—”
“Ew, don’t even say that,” I snap. “That’s gross and so not Rust. I was waiting for him to notice me for years. I was praying for it. You know what crushes are like, but he never did until the storm. Well, it was before that, he said. The first time was a few months ago.”
“When we were still in school?” She sucks in a breath. “I don’t know, Mary.”
“What don’t you know?” I can’t stop the acid from entering my voice, the pain at the idea that this could be anything other than good, anything other than the right thing.
“Just hitting on high schoolers isn’t exactly a green flag.”
“He wasn’t hitting on me. Anyway, don’t tell anyone, but he was a virgin before we met.”
Now, Chrissy can’t hide her derision. She rolls her eyes. “Really? Did he tell you this?”
“He’s not lying,” I snap. “We shared that moment together. He’s never been interested in anyone. It’s Rust. He was like a robot before…” We fell in love, I almost say, which would be downright deranged. It’s like the pregnancy hormones are already messing with my emotions.
“I find that very hard to believe,” Chrissy says. “My older sister and all her friends used to gush over him in high school. He’s a friggin celebrity.”
“He was a virgin,” I tell her. “There’s a special connection between us. I know that makes me sound naïve, but it’s true. That moment when I told him about the baby, and he was spinning me around, was perfect. It was the happiest I’ve ever been. It’s not about age. It’s about us. I don’t want older men. He doesn’t want a younger woman. I want him. He wants me.”
I’m almost crying, my thoughts alight with visions of the future, holding the baby and looking over to see my man there, Brad standing at his shoulders, my baby’s uncle and father, so happy to meet them finally. It’s all happiness, all warmth. My tattoo glows and pulses just thinking about it.
Rubbing my cheeks, I try to force the tears away and the silly, tempting dreams of the future. None of that can happen unless we tell Brad, and if we do that—
I can’t even think about it. “That’s not the issue,” I go on. “Rust and I would be together if it weren’t for Brad. I know it.”