by Ella Fields
Annika’s brows gathered. “People can still get their period when they’re pregnant?”
I tipped a shoulder. “So I’ve heard, though it’s obviously pretty rare.”
Her lips curved, some of her spice flavoring the movement. “Hence why you’re looking at my supplies with such ridicule.”
I waited. “Well? Why do you have them?”
“I don’t need to tell you a damn thing,” she said, turning and moving down the aisle.
“Excuse me?” I rushed after her. “You’re having my boyfriend’s kid, as fucked up as that sounds, so I think that, yeah, there’s probably plenty you need to tell me.”
She stopped beside a rack of discounted chips, grabbing the light and tangy and tossing it into her basket. “So he’s your boyfriend now, is he?” Her brow arched, and I bristled. “Convenient.”
“Well, he’s sure as shit not yours.”
Annika tittered. “Relax, he’s the last person I’d pick to saddle myself with. This was …” She peered down at her still flat stomach. “Honestly, it was an accident.” She resumed walking. “Not because he’s not hot, because he’s easily one of the best-looking guys in this place, but because he’s broke as fuck.”
I followed. “Do you hear yourself right now?”
“Loud and clear,” she muttered. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. Oh.” She paused at the checkout, turning her head over her shoulder. “And if you see your boyfriend, be sure to tell him that I’ve been trying to call him.”
I used the self-serve, anger and confusion making my movements stilted.
Outside, with my bag and purse slapping against my leg, I watched Annika take the escalator upstairs and then moved.
Annika squeaked as I met her at her car in the parking lot, her hand over her chest. “What the fuck, Daphne?”
“Tell me why you’re buying period supplies.” I licked my lips, the breeze sending my hair into my face. I shoved it back. “I’m not leaving until you do.”
Leaning against her Skoda, she sighed and rubbed her temple with her free hand. “My parents think I had an abortion, okay?”
My face drained. “What?”
Her eyes began to glisten as she exhaled, and said, “I tried, I did, but I couldn’t do it. That’s why I ended up finally telling Lars.”
It was all I could do to keep looking at her. How was it you could hate someone for stealing a future you’d only just allowed yourself to consider having, yet also want to hug them and tell them it’d all be okay?
I didn’t know. I was nothing but a floundering fish shoved onto dry land. “What are you going to do?”
Annika swiped at a tear, shaking her head. “I paid the desk attendant enough cash to make sure that if my parents had called, which they did, she’d lie and say I’d been there.” A tiny smile. “Not really a lie.”
“They’re going to find out.” I kept my voice soft, eyeing her stomach. “How long do you think you can lie to them, Annika?”
Opening the door, she climbed inside her car. “What do you care, Daphne? Just … leave it alone.”
She slammed the door and backed out a second later.
Lars
“You think I’m an asshole,” Denham said from behind his stained desk, his leather shoes visible beneath it.
Every morning since my outburst, and at lunchtime too, I’d been forced to sit in here with him. Most of the time, it was in silence as I finished work I was behind on or drew in my portfolio.
I didn’t respond.
The click of his pen sounded before it clattered to the desktop. “We both know it’s true.”
“I don’t really care what you are,” I said, and that was true. If you’d have asked me a month ago, sure, I’d have had some pretty strong opinions about the guy.
He’d been dating my mom for the past eighteen months, and a lot of people assumed he was the reason I was even attending Magnolia Cove Prep. I’d found it hilarious, being that I was now a senior. Sticking a bunch of spoiled kids in an expensive school does not make them little geniuses. Far from it, actually. I’d never bothered to correct them because basic math, people, come on.
“You care a great deal,” Denham said. His first name was Vince, but I never had enough respect for the guy to call him anything other than Denham. “You’re just going through a shit time.”
The word shit had my head snapping up. “Two cuss words in one morning?” I quirked my lips and tilted my head. “Did you miss your fifth shot of espresso?”
He raised a thick brow and sighed, settling back into the olive green leather seat with a creak. “Do you need to speak to the guidance—?”
I began to pack my things. “I think we’re good for today.”
“Sit down.”
“No,” I said in a tone that implied he could suspend me, expel me, or do whatever the hell he wanted to me, but I wasn’t taking any shit.
“Your mother puts the brakes on every time I try to take our relationship to the next level.”
My hand slipped off the metal door handle, and I turned back to face him.
Denham looked down at a stack of papers on his desk, rubbing his bristly chin. “She wants to wait until you graduate, until you’ve gotten yourself off to the flying head start she expects you to have, before she allows us to even consider the idea of moving in together.”
My throat swelled, and I forced my eyes to the beige carpet. “She’s never said anything.”
“Why would she? It’s just more pressure on you. Guilt when you have no reason to feel guilty. This was her choice, and it’s what she wants.”
I looked up at him then. “And you, what would you want?”
There was no hesitation. “For her to move out of that tiny hovel and in with me.”
I nodded and licked my teeth, wondering if I sank any further, if I’d fucking drown. “And here I am, fucking it all up for you both.”
Denham shook his head. “I didn’t tell you this to make you feel bad.” He shrugged. “Yeah, you’ve fucked up, not going to sugarcoat it, but that’s life. I’m telling you because I see you struggling with this, every day, and though I know you’d probably never confide in me, I wanted to make sure you knew I wasn’t the prick you thought I was anyway. Just in case you change your mind.”
Long minutes ticked by, the bell sounding outside as I gazed unseeing out the vine-clouded window behind his head. “There’s nothing to talk about.” I turned for the door. “It’s happened, and now all I know is that I haven’t just fucked up Annika’s and my future, but I’ve fucked up Mom’s too.”
“Lars,” Denham called, but I was already gone, the receptionist eyeing me as I stalked by her desk and through the door.
In the bathrooms, I lit a smoke and slouched back against the tiled wall, loosening my tie as I let that first drag sit tight in my lungs.
The toilet flushed, and a bunch of muttered cursing reached my ears as someone stumbled out. “Good fucking god, I’m never touching chili fries again.”
“That’s what you said the last three times.”
Raven, washing his hands, shot his eyes to me, and a smile crawled into place. “Fucker, where’ve you been?”
I watched him shake them dry, then he came and snatched the cigarette from me.
“Being babysat by Denham, working, breathing, you know …”
Raven’s gaze scrutinized. “Sure.” He blew a gust of smoke into my face, still surveying. “You’re up shit creek without a paddle, dude, and I’m not the only one watching you try to grapple for some stability.”
“She won’t talk to me.”
He coughed. “Who? Daphne?”
I nodded, heading for the door. The only perk of hanging with Denham was that my teachers knew, so turning up a little late to class wasn’t an issue.
“Well, can’t say I blame her.”
I scoffed. “It’s not like I did this shit on purpose.”
Rave raised his hands. “Whoa, everybody fucking knows that, including her. I just … she�
�s eighteen, man, like most of us, and yeah, she might like your stupid ass, but she’s probably scared and seven shades of heartbroken.”
“Seven?”
He shrugged, stopping outside his class. “It’s a lucky number. I dig it.”
“Because being heartbroken makes you lucky.”
Raven grinned and waggled his brows. “Depends on who’s doing the breaking.” He slipped inside, and I continued down the hall.
Despite still feeling like I could flee outside the doors I could see looming up ahead, my lips shifted into a small smile before I forced myself inside class.
Daphne
From our table in the cafeteria, I watched Annika. The way she kept her head down but offered a smile at all the right moments, her head bobbing quickly before ducking again to stare at her bowl of pasta.
I stared down at my own bowl of salad, pieces of egg intermingled with lettuce, cheese, bacon, and carrot. I pushed it aside as Peggy took a seat and began eating almost immediately. Willa was gone. Her and her stepbrother’s secret relationship no longer much of a secret.
We ate in silence, a rarity, as we both absorbed its weighted company.
When Dash graced us with his presence, Peggy bristled. I took a sip of water and picked at my food.
“What do you call a man who won’t leave a girl alone?” he asked, eyes fixed on Peggy.
“A stalker.” I couldn’t help myself.
Dash squinted at me before grabbing Peggy’s hand. “A guy who’s lost and found his heart but can’t get it back.”
I would’ve gagged if it weren’t for the overconfident, no fucks given way he’d said it.
Peggy sighed, still trying to cling to those last bitter reserves, and snatched her hand back.
I couldn’t blame her—he’d really messed up—but I was also exhausted. Not only from watching them ping-pong every day but also from my own anguish.
I grabbed what was left of my lunch when Lars walked inside the cafeteria and dumped it in the trash on my way out.
I made it to the bathrooms before my hand was taken, and I was hauled around the corner. The same corner where no cameras watched, and Lars had made me come on his fingers when we were supposed to be in class.
Weeks. Mere weeks had gone by since then, yet that was all it’d taken for everything to change.
“Cotton, talk to me.”
I gazed up at him, my back to the wall, and studied his bloodshot eyes. “Are you high?”
“Jesus, no.” He gentled his hold on my hand. “I’m just tired, so fucking tired.”
My shoulders fell, the dark pillows beneath his eyes softening my resolve. “There’s nothing we need to talk about, Lars.”
He was shaking his head before I could finish my sentence. “Don’t do that, okay?” His voice was urgent. Rough and urgent. “Please just … for one minute, stop avoiding this and tell me how you really feel.”
Anger rose, hot and sparking. It was my fault, the way we’d once again come to a crashing halt. But it wasn’t. Doing the right thing—for him, for Annika, for their baby—was the right thing for me too. It would just take time for me to see that. I hoped. “You don’t want to know that.” It wouldn’t help; it would only hurt.
“Yeah?” Taking a step closer, his eyes dancing over my face, he said, “Try me.”
“Seriously?” I nodded, his proximity worsening the injustice that brewed higher. “Fine. Okay. The truth is, I hate you.” I swallowed. “I hate you for being so careless. I hate you for making me feel the same way I’ve always been made to feel. For making me fall into this … this fucking place I desperately tried to avoid. I hate you because it’s easier to hate you than to admit otherwise, and I don’t want that to change. Because I can’t change this. Neither of us can.” I drew in a deep breath, blowing it free with my next words. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”
He surprised me by saying, “Yes.”
The sincerity in his gaze, in the way his fingers brushed over my hand, had my heart throbbing.
“Now,” he said, the fingers on his other hand gliding over my cheekbone. “Tell me what it is you’ve always felt.”
I shook my head. “There’s no point. If you haven’t already figured it out, then you don’t really understand me at all.”
I went to move, but he caught me by the waist. “Second best.” My lashes lowered to his scuffed shoes. “You know I see that. You know I know that. I was just hoping you’d tell me more.”
That would involve talking about Ellis, my parents, grandparents, and exploring dark parts of me that Lars had shadowed all by himself, and I wasn’t equipped to do that right now. “I can’t.”
Lars studied me, that gaze hot and probing. After a minute that dragged, he released a sigh. “Look, the future, all of it, it’s not so certain anymore.” I nodded, my hand squeezing his. “The only thing I am certain of is that no matter what happens, I always want you to be a part of it.”
I looked up at him, my eyes hot. “We can’t.”
His own hardened. “We can. This shouldn’t change anything.”
An incredulous breath sailed out. “Lars, it changes everything.”
“Not what counts,” he said.
I pulled my hand free, trying to get around him. “The bell is about to ring.”
I made it halfway down the hall when he hollered, “Don’t you fucking see it?”
The way he’d shouted made my feet and heart halt. “See what?”
“That I’m in love with you.” His laughter was self-deprecating. “Even after my world has shifted, you’re still the only thing I want in it.”
My stomach hollowed, and my ears rang. “Lars.” His name was a sound, a tiny, breathless sound.
He still heard it. “You know I am. You know that none of this changes that, and that you leaving me because you think it’s the right thing to do won’t ever fucking change that.” He stopped behind me, his voice softening, but the determination and edge to it still loud and clear. It vibrated over my skin as he gripped my hips from behind and lowered his mouth to my neck. “I’m in love with you, and I don’t want out of it for anything. Or anyone. Ever.”
We stood there, time a passerby in a moment that would lodge itself in my memory for the rest of my days. Because I knew I was in love with him too. I knew it before the bombshell had dropped, and it’d only been confirmed by the bleeding my heart had done ever since.
His hands squeezed. “What, you can’t say anything?”
Another shake of my head as sweat dampened my palms.
“Daph,” he groaned, sorrow leeching off his next words. “Your stubborn heart is killing me.” Then I was alone, his footsteps fading behind me as the cold swept in and layered every place he’d touched.
“Food is to be eaten, not stared at like it might explode in your face,” Petra said from the other side of the dining table.
The news played, a quiet hum in the background, as the casserole she’d prepared forced its aroma inside my nose, making my stomach grumble.
With a low sigh fleeing my lips, I picked up my fork and took a few mouthfuls, hardly tasting the spiced chicken.
“There. Not so hard, is it?”
I forced a smile to her lined, beautiful face.
Petra was my mother, only twenty some years older, with that same honeyed hair color and blue eyes. Once, I’d called her grandma and watched with not a small amount of fear as ice froze every part of her symmetrical features into a look so cold, I never made that mistake again.
“Your mother is out of town, I take it.” She laid a napkin over her lap. “Again.”
“There’s a launch party for some new line in New York.” I took a sip of water. “She should be back in a few days.”
To say Petra was a fan of my mother’s career would be an insult to her. It wasn’t so much the career as it was the way my mother neglected everything else in her life because of it.
“There are ways to earn a living for oneself without sacrificing a
ll you hold dear,” she muttered yet again.
Petra owned and ran a riding school as well as bred show horses. She’d done so since she’d married my grandfather, who was now gone, and between that and his foot in the mining industry, they owned one of the most beautiful estates in the cove.
Usually, I’d say nothing, immune to her repetitive tirades by now.
Usually. “That’s the thing,” I said, and Petra’s eyes snapped up. “It’s her wants and desires first and foremost. We are not what she holds dear.” I said it without hatred, without sadness—I said it resigned and unfeeling. It was what it was, and I’d learned long ago that trying to make yourself seen when someone didn’t want to see you was a detriment to the soul.
I would no longer allow her actions the power to affect me in that way.
“She loves you,” Petra said, though her eyes were swimming with something I couldn’t name.
“She cares for me, I’m sure, but she resents me more. For my youth, men’s attention, and the opportunities still available to me … just to name a few.”
Petra dropped her fork with a clang. “You can’t seriously think that.”
“No need to think when I know.” I took another mouthful.
Petra watched me for long moments as we ate. “You should’ve come to live with me.”
I smiled down at my food. “I asked you that when I was twelve, and you said my presence would only age you faster.” Besides, my mother wouldn’t have been able to handle the embarrassment.
An abrupt bout of laughter. “Well.” Her smile was warm, and her eyes shined. “I was probably wrong, how about that?”
“How’s Fletcher doing?” I asked instead. It’d been months since I’d visited the mischievous dapple gray and almost a year since I’d ridden him at all.
“He misses you, but this new biddy is giving him a lot of use, so you’d better come by and see him before he forgets all about you.”
I laughed and nodded. “I think I will.”
She reached over the table, offering her hand. I took it and squeezed.
Lars
