After how horrible I’ve been to him I don’t see how I can tell him. I’ve said so many mean things to him the last few weeks. Things I’ll never be able to take back. I’m sure he already hates me, and why would he want a baby? We’re sixteen, nowhere near ready to be parents. We’re both kids ourselves.
I sit up and toss the stick in the trashcan. I wash my hands and splash my face with water.
I have to tell my mom.
She hates me.
But she’s my mom.
She’ll be there for me…right?
She’ll make this better.
Surely she’ll know what to do.
She has to.
I crack open the bathroom door and venture into the living room. Ivy is asleep, but my mom shouldn’t be drunk yet. She doesn’t start drinking until late…although, in past weeks she’s been starting earlier.
I’m not surprised to find her sitting on the couch drinking a beer as she speaks to her latest fuck buddy. I don’t even remember his name. John? James? Jim? I think it’s Jim.
“Mom,” my voice cracks.
She looks up at me, anger causing her to snarl. “What do you want, brat?”
I don’t like it when she calls me that. It makes me feel like nothing I do is ever good enough, and I try so hard to get her to love me. I know she’s going to be angry when I tell her I’m pregnant. But she had me when she was young, so I think she’ll understand. Maybe it’ll make us grow closer.
“I need to talk to you,” I whisper, “alone,” I added as my eyes flicked towards the man in the recliner.
“Whatever you need to say to me you can say in front of Jim,” she sits back, taking a large gulp of beer. “Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”
My eyes squeeze shut. Now I’m wishing I had waited to tell her, to let it sink in more, so I could process it.
I didn’t though, and if I don’t tell her something, she’ll get angry and hit me.
It was foolish of me to think she’d take me into her arms and make it better. She didn’t care about Ivy or me. We were nothing to her, nothing but a burden.
I decide to tell her the truth. After all, that’s why I came out here in the first place.
“I’m pregnant,” I say, choosing not to sugarcoat the words.
Her mouth falls open. “I always knew you’d turn out to be nothing but a slut,” she glares as she looks me up and down.
Her words hurt, but I’ve learned to keep my face void of emotion.
“I’ll take you the clinic and we’ll have that thing taken care of,” she points at my stomach.
“What?” I stumble back, protectively clutching my stomach and the baby residing there.
“For an abortion,” she says unnecessarily.
“No,” I gasp. “I don’t want that. I want to keep it.” I’m shocked that she would even suggest such a thing.
“Honey,” she leans back on the couch, “I’m just trying to save you from my mistake.”
I flinch. She’s talking about me. She’s basically saying she wished someone had been there to tell her to get an abortion.
“I won’t do that,” I say fiercely. I’ll run away before I let her kill my child.
“You could put it up for adoption,” she suggests with a slight chuckle. It amuses her that I’ve made such a colossal mistake.
“No. I won’t do that.”
“What the fuck are you going to do with a child, Rowan?” She tilts her head. “Huh?”
I don’t know. But I do know that I’d rather struggle and have my baby than kill it or hand it over to strangers. Maybe it’s selfish of me, adoption would give the baby a better chance at a happy life, but I want to keep it.
I suddenly feel like I should’ve sucked it up and went to Trent. But my mom’s next words silence those thoughts.
“The way I see it,” she leans forward, “you have two options. Abortion or adoption. Ain’t no way you can raise a child, you’re too dumb for that.” I want to disagree with her and tell her that I basically take care of Ivy, but I know she’ll only have a well-thought out argument for that. “No way is that baby’s daddy going to help you. Teenage boys run from commitment, Rowan. And a baby? That’s a life sentence no boy wants.”
Was she right? She sounded like she was speaking from experience, and I’d basically deduced the same. Trent wouldn’t want to be a dad, and I had school to think about, and with a baby I’d need to get a job to buy it things, and what about college? I wanted to get out of here. A baby would keep me trapped in a life like this, a life just like my mom’s.
“How about this,” she smiled, and I let out a sigh of relief that she was going to help me, “I’ll adopt that baby. That way, you can go on and live your dreams, without a baby tying you down. I’m doing you a favor here, baby girl, take it or leave it.”
I thought it over for a few seconds.
“Deal.”
I wiped my face free of tears as the memory evaporated. I’d been so silly and naïve thinking my mom could fix the mess I had made. I wanted to believe that she was helping me.
She wasn’t though.
She was simply manipulating me.
I’d signed my life away when I put my signature on the adoption papers. She’d added stipulation after stipulation to the contract.
Basically, she wanted me to raise the baby, but he could never know I was his mother and I wasn’t allowed to speak a word to the father.
I wondered now, if she knew Trent was Tristan’s dad, if she would have been different because of the money they had. Knowing her, she might’ve tried to sell them the baby.
I never should have signed those papers.
I knew as soon as I did that I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
The contract stated that I couldn’t reveal to Tristan that I was his mother until he was eighteen, unless extenuating circumstances permitted it.
So, he’d become my brother, and eventually I started to believe it was true.
As long as Tristan didn’t know I was his mother, then Trent couldn’t know of his existence.
If I told Tristan that I was his mother before he turned eighteen, I wouldn’t be allowed to see him.
If I had gone to Trent in the very beginning, none of this would have ever happened. Hindsight was a pain in the ass. I had believed that Trent would be like every other teenage guy and not want anything to do with me or the baby. I knew that wasn’t true now. Trent wasn’t like other guys, seeing him with his nephew proved that. He would’ve owned his mistake—our mistake…and God, it killed me to even think of Tristan as a mistake. I loved that little boy with everything I had.
Now, I valued Tristan too much to tell him the truth. I couldn’t imagine not seeing my son every day, so I kept quiet, refusing to breach the contract, letting my guilt and misery eat me alive.
I had so many regrets, but my biggest was not telling Trent I was pregnant before I signed that contract. I’d believe he’d already hated me after the way I pushed him away, and it was believable to think that a sixteen-year-old guy wouldn’t want a baby.
“Rowan?”
I turned to look behind me and saw Ivy and Tristan standing in the doorway.
“It’s cold,” Ivy frowned, “and you’re getting wet. Come inside.”
She sounded so mature and wise beyond her years. It broke my heart and tore me up inside. I had tried so hard to give her a childhood, but growing up with a mom like ours made that impossible.
I forced myself to my feet, drying my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.
My suitcase still sat outside where Trent had left it. I grabbed it, bumping it along behind me.
“I made some hot chocolate,” Ivy smiled, but her eyes were filled with worry. “Would you like some?”
I nodded, letting my eight-year-old sister take care of me.
The door to my mom’s room was closed and the sounds of her having sex with either Jim or some guy she’d picked up at a bar filled th
e air.
I hated that Tristan and Ivy had been home listening to that. I left my suitcase by my closet door and climbed under the covers. Tristan scurried in beside me, his arms winding around my neck.
Ivy came into my room a few minutes later with hot chocolate.
“What’s wrong with you?” She asked softly. “Are you sick?”
I knew it must have been a shock for them to look outside and see me having a break down like that. They’d never seen me cry and I was sure it had frightened them.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, kissing the top of Tristan’s head and sliding our bodies over to the other side of the bed so Ivy could join us. “Why are you guys home?” I finally asked.
“Mom wanted us home,” Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know why.”
That woman. I hated her. I really did. She’d only wanted them brought home to punish me for leaving.
“How long have you been here?”
“Since last night,” Ivy climbed into my bed beside Tristan.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I whispered.
“It’s okay.” Ivy reached for my hand. “I love you, Rowan. I wish you were my mom.”
“I wish you were my mommy too,” Tristan piped in.
And then I began to cry again.
chapter sixteen
I was supposed to work today.
Seeing as how Trace was my boss now, I wasn’t sure if I was welcome back at Wentworth Wheels.
I was sure Trent had told his family by now. They were close, so why wouldn’t he? They all probably hated me and I couldn’t blame them.
I wrestled with what to do, not knowing what would be the right thing.
In the end, I made myself get ready and take the kids to school. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t show up and Trace expected me to be there, and I already had enough stuff to be angry at myself for, without adding something else.
I dropped the kids off and drove to work. All the while, chewing nervously on my bottom lip. It was raw and sore feeling by the time I arrived.
When I put my car in park, my heart was racing in my chest. I expected Trace to hear the sound of my car and come running out, yelling that I was never welcome here again.
That didn’t happen though, so I was forced to get out of the car.
I didn’t see Trace when I stepped into the building. I called out for him, but heard no reply.
I turned to leave, thinking he was ignoring me, but the door to the office opened then and he waved. “Don’t leave,” he said, noting that I had turned on my heels to flee.
I braced myself for whatever he had to say. I prepared for him to yell and tell me how horrible I was, but that didn’t happen.
“Are you okay?” He asked.
I was confused. Why was he asking if I was okay? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Well,” he crossed his arms and legs, leaning against the open doorway, “I’m assuming after what my brother figured out the other day, that he said some not very nice things, and so, I’m going to ask you again…are you okay?”
I nodded.
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m miserable,” I muttered.
“That’s what I thought,” he nodded. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he added, “So is he.”
I flinched. I didn’t want to hear about Trent, about what my secret had done to him.
“I don’t understand why you did it,” Trace pushed away from the doorway and strode towards me, “but I’m sure you had a pretty damn good reason.”
I didn’t have a good reason, not at all.
“I couldn’t tell him,” I whispered. “Tristan doesn’t even know that I’m his mom. He’s not allowed to know.” I bit my lip as tears stung my eyes. I was not going to cry in front of Trace. “I’ll just…leave now,” I muttered, turning to leave.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Trace said, reaching for my arm. “I never said anything about you leaving.”
“What else do you have to say?” I snapped.
“Nothing,” he shrugged, “but I am paying you to work for me.”
“You mean...I still have a job?” I asked in surprise, hope flooding my body. I had been sure Trace was seconds away from telling me to get off his property and never come back.
“Of course you do,” his brows furrowed together. “Am I pissed because you didn’t tell my brother that he’s a dad? Yeah, I am. But I offered you a job, you’re good at it, and I see no real reason to fire you,” he shrugged, bending down to pick up something from the floor. “You’re family now, Rowan. You’re not going anywhere.”
“Thank you,” I gasped, flinging my arms around him and surprising us both with the gesture. He patted my back awkwardly.
When I released him, he smiled and said, “Get to work.”
I grinned, pleased that I still had my job, but my heart panged in my chest with the knowledge that Trenton was hurting.
I headed towards the back of the building where the office was located and Trace called for me. “Yeah?” I stopped, turning to face him.
“Trent’s really pissed right now…but in a few weeks, when he cools off, I think you should visit him and explain things to him. Make him understand.”
“I will.” And I would, even though it would kill me to face Trent and explain everything to him, it had to be done. Right now, all he knew was that he had a son that I had never told him about, and that was it. He needed to know why I couldn’t tell him, and understand how much I had suffered because of my decision. I would regret what I had done every day for the rest of my life, and I knew when I died, I’d burn in hell for it too.
I watched Tristan closely.
I saw him with different eyes now that Trent knew the truth.
I could allow myself to truly see the things about my son that were so clearly inherited from his father.
Like his eyes, they were exact same shade of blue that Trent’s were.
And sometimes, when Tristan was concentrating on something his nose would crinkle, and I’d often seen Trent do the same thing.
It was amazing that Tristan had never even met Trent and acted so much like him. Most things really were inherited.
I had always tried to force myself not to notice things about Tristan that were like his dad and me. It killed me inside to see things about him that were so clearly us when Tristan didn’t know the truth. It had been easier to make myself believe that he was my brother. It lessened the pain.
“Rawr!” Tristan hollered, playing with his toy dinosaurs, having one attack the other.
He played for a few more minutes before laying the toys aside.
“Row?” He looked up at me with wide questioning blue eyes.
“Mhmm,” I nodded for him to continue.
“Who was that guy?”
“What guy?” I asked, picking at lint on the carpeted floor.
“The guy that said hi to me?” He questioned.
I frowned, not wanting to answer. “No one. It was no one.”
“But I saw him!” Tristan cried.
“I know you did,” I said soothingly to calm him, “but he’s no one important.”
“Oh,” Tristan frowned.
“Why were you asking about him?” I pressed, wondering why the boy’s mind had ventured to think of Trenton.
“I thought he might like to play dinosaurs with me,” Tristan frowned. “Or cars,” he pointed to his basket of Matchbox cars. “I think I like cars more than dinosaurs now.”
I laughed. “Why is that?”
“The dinosaurs always eat each other,” he complained.
“Then why do you make them eat each other?” I countered with a small smile as I crossed my legs.
“They’re dinosaurs,” he looked at me like I was dumb, “it’s what they do.”
Real laughter burst out of me at Tristan’s words. Leave it to the little boy to be the one to make me feel better.
“Why are you laughing?” He asked, dumping the
basket of cars everywhere.
“Because you’re funny,” I reached over and pinched his cheek.
“Don’t do that,” he rubbed his cheek, “I’m not a baby anymore.”
No, he definitely wasn’t, and Trent hadn’t been able to see our son grow up like I had. He didn’t know what Tristan looked like when we was born. He’d missed out on everything—Tristan crawling, walking, talking. All of it.
It was my fault.
I couldn’t take back those years he’d lost with his son. But I could try to give him a glimpse.
I knew I still needed to give him more time before I saw him, though.
But I had to get him to understand.
I was prepared to accept the fact that he hated me, but I didn’t want him to hate Tristan. I wanted him to see what an amazing kid our son was. How even at this age, he was wise like his father, and curious like I had been as a child. He was a little piece of the two of us that would always bind us together.
“Wanna play?” Tristan asked, holding out a car for me.
“Sure,” I took it from him.
He sat on the floor, driving his car around. “Vroom! Vroom! Vroom!”
I stared listlessly at the floor as I half-heartedly pushed the toy car around.
“Row…Row!”
I looked up to find Tristan halted in his playing. “Like this, Row,” he raced his car around in a circle as far as his little arms could reach. “Vroom!”
I laughed, making the noise with him as I drove the car around the room.
“What are you doing?” Ivy appeared in the doorway.
“Playing cars,” Tristan answered. He laid his car to the side and grabbed one from the pile. “Here, you play too.”
Ivy took the car and sat on the floor to join us in play.
It tore me apart that Tristan didn’t know I was his mom.
In his eyes, and Ivy’s, I was though, in all the ways that counted.
“What are you still doing here?” Trace asked, stepping in the office as he brought a bottle of water to his lips. “I thought you already left.”
I shook my head. “I’m trying to organize your schedule for called-in appointments and make sure I’ve left time for emergency requests,” I pointed to the appointment book I was scribbling in.
“I don’t know what I did before you came along,” he admitted, jumping up on the other desk in the corner, his legs swinging. He leaned over, opening the top drawer, and grabbed a bag of ketchup-flavored chips. “Want some?” He asked, holding the bag out for me. I shook my head as my nose wrinkled in disgust. Ketchup flavored chips? Um, gross. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, munching on one of the crunchy potato chips. “They’re delicious.”
Tempting Rowan Page 23
