by Jacie Lennon
“Go ahead and raise your shirt. Then, tug your pants down slightly. I’m going to tuck this paper here,” the nurse instructs, and I do what she said.
I feel strange, bare, as I lie on the table with my flat stomach exposed. It almost feels like a trick. Brock sits beside the table, not saying a word, and I wonder if he feels awkward.
Of course he feels awkward, you idiot. You just told him you hated him, and he said the same.
I reach back, about to make it more awkward, as the ultrasound tech sits and prepares the wand with jelly. I grab Brock’s hand and squeeze. He jerks his gaze toward me and then away as the lights dim, and she touches the wand to my stomach, instantly filling the room with sound. He slowly withdraws his hand from mine, and I don’t look at him again, not wanting him to see the hurt on my face.
I’m quiet on the ride back, feeling too raw. I don’t know why I invited him to see the ultrasound. He hasn’t said much either.
“You can drop me off at the edge if you want.”
“I’m not dropping you off at the edge of Loredo,” Brock says. “I’ll take you back to Mooney’s.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“It was dangerous when I picked you up. I survived.”
I look back out the window.
“Come home with me.” His words hang in the air.
At first, I don’t move. I don’t tear my gaze from the landscape flashing by outside the vehicle. I think that maybe he will take the words back if I’m silent long enough, but he doesn’t. He lets me work through my shit.
“I can’t,” I finally tell him, glancing his way, and he frowns, a stormy look coming across his face. “What happened between us today doesn’t mean that we are together.”
“I don’t want to be together,” he scoffs, and I feel dumb. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off, “It’s for the baby’s protection. I told you, I take care of my own.”
“I’m not your project, Brock. I’ve lived here my whole life and made it just fine.”
“I don’t want you to be a project,” he snaps, but I throw my hand up.
“Stop.”
I can’t. He doesn’t understand what that would do to me. Give me hope for a better future. Give me a fear-free life when I can’t have that. I won’t ever have that.
“Suit yourself,” he says with a shrug, and I stare at him.
Part of me wants him to beg me again, but I know he won’t. Even now, he doesn’t care; he’s doing it for himself.
My heart says yes, but my head says no. My head is the sane one and tells me that I’m not in the same world as him. I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, and Brock would never understand me. He would never fully be happy with me. I don’t wear name brands or have perfect hair. I don’t attend charity functions or even know how to interact with that class of people. Once this drama between us is sorted and we find out that I’m carrying Drake’s child, which I’m erring on the side of caution with that, he won’t stick around. Why would he? I have nothing to offer. No, I won’t do that to myself. I can’t.
Brock hits the steering wheel, a growl escaping his throat, and I look away. I don’t acknowledge what that sound does to me.
“Let me help you.”
“No.” It would only hurt me.
“Fine,” he says, pulling up in the alleyway, and I wrench open the door, jumping out.
“Thank you for the ride,” I say.
He says my name before I can close the door. Soft, like a plea. But that can’t be right. Brock wouldn’t need to beg for my attention. He has everyone’s attention. He’s a Montgomery. I hold the door slightly ajar. I finally bring my eyes to his and shake my head.
I slam the door, jogging to the alley door without looking back. I hear him drive off though, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. Sure, it would be wonderful to go live in a mansion and play the part of a girl who doesn’t have to lift a finger. But what happens when the charade is over? When he finds out he’s been keeping up another man’s baby? Another man’s baby mama? I’d be out on my ass before I could blink, and that would be worse because then I’d know what it was like. I’d have those memories. I’d be closer to him, and that can’t happen.
I step into Mooney’s office and circle his desk. I reach into one of the drawers, taking out my work uniform and slipping into the bathroom to put it on. After leaving the bathroom and stashing my school clothes in his desk, I jump a little when I see Mooney leaning against the wall, legs and arms crossed.
“You got company,” he says, and my heart sinks.
That can only mean one thing. Well, it can mean two things—Drake or my dad. But my money is on Drake right now. I’m sure he’s been looking for me.
I stand beside him, dropping my head back against the wall.
“You know I can’t throw him out.” That would put a target on Mooney’s back, and I don’t want him to have to deal with that.
“I know,” I say with a sigh.
I wouldn’t ask him to do that. No one wants the Lions on their ass. Except me—and Brock, I guess, seeing as we aren’t staying away from each other.
“Do you know what he wants?” I ask, and Mooney is quiet. I finally turn my head against the wall to look at him and grimace. “Damn it.”
“Yeah.”
“Time to face the music,” I say and push off from the wall.
I grab my waitressing apron from the hallway hook as I make my way out to the bar area, and I instantly spot him. I won’t lie. Drake is nice to look at. He’s tall and lean. His jeans are torn in all the right places, and the cutoff shirt he wears only accentuates the way his shoulder muscles roll into his biceps. But what you don’t see when you look at him is his penchant for using those muscles a little too much.
“Peyton,” he calls out as soon as he spots me, jumping up from the barstool and swaggering toward me. “Where have you been?” he asks as he stops in front of me, sweeping a lock of my hair behind my ear.
The motion should be sweet, but it only makes my skin crawl. I know how quickly his sweet motions can turn sour.
“I had a doctor’s appointment.”
“Did you?” The way he says it makes me pause for a moment. But I won’t play his games.
“Yes.”
“See, that’s a little funny, babe. Because when I went to the clinic, you weren’t there.”
“I’m sure they wouldn’t tell you. Patient confidentiality and all that.”
“We staked the fucking place out, Peyton. You never even arrived after school. So, you want to tell me where you were?” Drake’s eyes dart up, and he stands a little straighter, backing away from me.
I can feel Mooney’s presence behind me before he lays a hand on my shoulder.
“Drake,” his deep voice greets him. “Now, my best waitress has to get to work. Whatever you need to talk about can wait.”
Drake gives me a wide smile, but I can tell that smile hides an angry side, and I’m thankful for Mooney’s support.
“I’ll be right over here. Come take my order,” he says, striding away and sitting in the back corner booth.
“Not sure what you ever saw in that guy.” Mooney’s voice makes me jump, and he frowns down at me. “I don’t like him.”
“Yeah, that makes two of us.” I grab my pad and pen, sticking it in my apron along with straws and napkins and a few peppermints for nausea. After a long breath, I take a sip of water and steel myself for the fuckery that tonight is going to be.
I stare over at the corner booth, trying not to be too obvious about my perusal. Drake’s friends have joined him, being loud and drinking even though none are legally allowed to have alcohol. Around here, it depends on who you are, whether you are above the law or not, and the son of an MC president is definitely above the law.
He glances up, his eyes meeting mine, and I jerk my gaze away. I don’t want him to come over here. Having to serve him and his friends is about as close as I want to get. I lean my elbows on the edge of the bar, flatt
ening my back and trying to stretch the ache that has started there.
“You good?” Jenna, the bartender that Mooney must have found last minute, asks.
“Yeah, a little sore.”
“I hear that. I was tired and sore all the time when I was pregnant with my son. How far along are you now?”
“Four months.”
“Kid will be here before you know it.” She walks back down to the end of the bar while I stand still.
Before I know it. Before I’m ready. Before I have the money to support us. Before I’m out of this shithole place.
When I glance back up, I notice Drake and his friends are gone.
That’s weird. It’s weird that he wouldn’t even try to say bye to me.
I roll my shoulders and stretch my neck. Only five minutes until I’m off the clock, and I’m ready to collapse onto my bed. I finish wiping down my tables and organize the waitress station. I salute the rest of the staff before removing my apron and hobbling down the hall to the office, where Mooney is working. I grab my clothes and slide into the bathroom, changing back into the sweatpants and hoodie I wore to school, throwing my work clothes in my purse to wash later.
“I’m out of here,” I say as I come out of the bathroom, shooting him finger guns.
“You need a ride home?”
“Nah, I’ll be okay.”
Dad’s house is only a block over. I’m used to walking it.
“Okay. Text me when you get there.”
“ ’Kay, Moon. Love you,” I say, kissing the air before shrugging on my jacket and heading toward the alley door.
“You too,” I hear before I shut it.
Starting my walk home, I stick my hands in my pockets, and then I put my hood up when I feel a light mist hitting my face. It would be raining, fitting for my mood.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I stop, raising my head and looking around for a second before I shake it off. I press my hand to my stomach over my clothes and smile a little.
“Don’t worry, little guy … or girl. We will be home soon, and we can both go to sleep.”
I know, any day now, I’ll feel fluttering and movement. I’ve researched it.
I hear footsteps behind me, and then a hand covers my mouth. I try to turn, and my eyes widen, panic setting in. An arm wraps around my arms, right underneath my breasts, and presses me against a hard body. Large. It has to be a man. I kick out with one foot, connecting with my assailant’s shin, and he grunts, but his hold doesn’t loosen.
I’m slightly lifted off the ground, and I flail my legs until a second guy comes up, grabbing them and holding them together. I’m suspended above the ground, and no matter how much I wiggle, I can’t break free.
I’m such an idiot. I should have taken Mooney’s offer for a ride home. It’s not only about me anymore. I’m already failing as a mother by being so careless.
The two guys carry me to a waiting vehicle. I can’t see it since my hood is still up, acting as blinders, but I see the shadows its headlights cast in the mist.
“Hurry the fuck up,” a third voice rings out from farther away. He sounds young, maybe my age or a bit older.
This has Drake and his cronies written all over it. The little fuckers.
I strain against the arms holding me some more, but it’s no use. I’m placed in the back of the vehicle as one of the guys climbs in behind me, sitting sideways and pulling me to him, wrapping his arms around me again. I’m a prisoner. The opposite door opens, and a guy stands there, hood up and something across his face. I kick out, catching his jaw, and he groans as he stumbles back.
“Fuckin’ bitch,” he moans as he lurches forward and pins my feet together, wrapping a rope around them and yanking it tight.
For all of their roughness, they aren’t touching anywhere near my stomach, and I count that as my one relief. It’s a clear sign they know I’m pregnant. I can feel tears rolling down my face, but I don’t acknowledge them. If I don’t, I’m not crying. I’m a Rossman, and we are tough.
Once he is satisfied that I can’t get my feet out, he backs up and shuts the door before jumping in the front, peeling away from the center of town, and now, I truly have no idea what I’m going to do.
10
Brock
I don’t hear from Peyton over the next week. She won’t respond to any of my texts, and I figure I scared her off, asking her to come back with me. But there’s nothing I can do now.
I surprised even myself with the request, but I like to think it’s me turning over a new leaf. Especially with what I did to her. I’ve been an asshole, and although I don’t love her or even know her other than in the carnal sense, we’ve been brought together for a reason. Maybe to help me grow up from the petty games and idiotic things I used to do.
It’s the Monday after Fall Ball at Almadale. I feel pretty hungover from the constant parties, and maybe a little bit is emotional exhaustion from wondering why Peyton won’t answer me.
I feel like a pussy, admitting it though, and so whenever the guys ask me what’s going on, I brush it off. I can tell they are pissed with me, and I know I’m being a shitty friend for not being honest. I think maybe it’s time to come clean and tell them what’s up and what my future might look like. No telling what my dad will have to say about it.
“Hey, C,” I say, stretching my neck out side to side before I sit up in bed. I’ve got to get my ass in gear to make it to class at a decent time. I’m never early, but I don’t skip either, as I still have to keep my grades up.
Silence greets me, and I frown, sitting up and glancing around the room.
Damn. Alone. Is everyone having fun, except for me?
I chuck the covers off, groaning and running a hand through my hair.
Fuckin’ hell.
I tried over the weekend to let go. To not think about anything, but anytime a girl approached me, I growled at her because she didn’t have the brown eyes or smart mouth I was thinking about. I’m starting to get concerned with her ghosting since it doesn’t feel like something she would do. I think if she truly didn’t want to talk to me, she would tell me to fuck off.
I’m not sure what my deal is. Maybe it has something to do with my mom leaving me and Bodhi when we were little. Maybe I don’t want a child to feel that anger and hurt that I felt about it. Or I have a soft spot forming where my cold heart used to be.
Who fuckin’ knows?
I head to the bathroom and take a quick shower, towel-drying my hair before donning my uniform and making my way to class. Bodhi is hanging outside my first classroom, and he holds his fist out as I approach, a sloppy grin on his asshole face. Maybe I shouldn’t say that since we are identical, but right now, I’m not feeling too glad to see him happy.
“Hey, bro,” he says as I reach up to fist bump before hooking fingers up and around and bringing my hand back with a snap. Our handshake we’ve had for as long as I can remember. “Get any action?” He’s vibrating with good energy, so I can tell he did. I narrow my eyes at him. “See, there’s your problem. You need your dick sucked. Maybe it will help your attitude.”
“I don’t have an attitude. And I don’t need my dick sucked,” I say, and Bodhi clutches his chest like I threatened to run him through with a sword.
“Don’t need your dick sucked? Who are you, and where is my brother?”
“Not everything is about getting your dick sucked.”
“Who’s getting their dick sucked?” Corbin asks, walking into the group, his arm slung around Landry’s waist.
Great. Just what I needed to see.
“No one,” I say.
“The words dick sucked have been said a lot in the last thirty seconds,” Bodhi says, and Landry laughs.
In the last week, I’ve become more used to having her around now. She’s here to stay, I guess, since Dad offered to keep paying for her tuition even though her mom is gone. He’s a softie.
“We’re talking about how moody Brock here is,” B
odhi says, grasping the back of my neck and shaking a little.
I stretch my upper body out of his reach.
“Hands off.” Bodhi dramatically throws his hands up and steps back. “I gotta get to class.”
I step into my first period class, leaving the crew behind and I feel relief at avoiding their questions. No questions mean no answers, and I’m fine with that. I might have told them a week ago, but now, after being ghosted, nope. Not happening.
Maybe Peyton got tested and found out that I’m not the father. I don’t even know if that’s possible. But I think she would at least tell me. I guess the doctor’s visit with me was a lot to process and handle. I think I’ll give her time.
The day passes in a blur, and I try to focus, if only to keep my thoughts off of Peyton. I step out of my last classroom, Bodhi and Corbin already standing there, determined looks on their faces.
“What?”
“You are coming with us.”
“I’d rather not,” I say, and Bodhi snorts.
“I’d rather not,” he mimics, and Corbin laughs. “Get your shit together and come the fuck on. We don’t have all day.”
I roll my eyes and hike my bag on my shoulder. “I’m going back to the room.”
Bodhi and Corbin look at each other, and then I hear it. Bodhi’s counting, and I know what’s coming.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I turn and take off running, both of them hot on my tail as I round the building and dart through the commons. We look like damn idiots, and classmates are gasping and taking their phones out to video. It’s not every day you see the three of us acting like we are five-year-olds. I keep going through the commons, cursing my uniform. It’s not easy to run in fuckin’ leather loafers. Once we make it out onto the south lawn, the path is clear, and I run toward the boys’ dorm.
“Stop,” I roar behind me, but they don’t.
Finally, Bodhi gets close enough to snag the sleeve of my jacket, getting me off-balance, and Corbin barrels in, lowering his shoulder as he hits the side of my back, taking me down with him.
