Sweet Little Lies (The Sweetest Thing Book 5)

by Sierra Hill

  My father…well, he’s a little harder to convince. He still holds Alberto in high regard, maybe because I never told anyone about his nastiness. Maybe I should have, but I think with Alberto he’s just a socially awkward man who doesn’t exactly know how to communicate with women. At least, I hope that’s all it is.

  As I’ve watched Lance interact with my brothers and family today, I know that it’s his easy-going personality that people can’t resist. He’s too wonderful not to like. And I know my Papi will come around in his own time.

  I’m so full, I sit with my hand resting on my tummy, sighing wistfully as I watch Lance interact with my brothers.

  “Are you pregnant, carino?” my sister asks out of the blue.

  My head snaps in her direction, my brows furrowed in surprise. “No! Why in the world would you ask that?”

  She tsks and shakes her head, dipping it to where my hand is placed. “When I said you’re glowing, it reminded me of when I was first pregnant with Amelia.”

  My heart gives a zing and a jolt – both in joy and concern – over the probability of being pregnant right now. I do a mental countdown and check off the days since my last period. I’ve been taking my pills regularly, so I don’t think it would be an issue.

  Having a baby and raising a family has been one of my top priorities since I was a young girl. But a dream that I only want fulfilled when the timing is right. And at this point in our relationship, with me finishing nursing school, Lance not having graduated yet and working through his steps, now would not be that time.

  Blanching, I swallow thickly, feeling bile reach my throat. I’m not late; at least not yet. But I’m not expected to start my period for another three days.

  What happens if I am pregnant? I don’t even know if Lance wants a baby. Or what our future will look like. We have so much to work through with just the two of us that a baby would just complicate things even more.

  “No, we’ve been careful. You’re wrong. Maybe you’re projecting. Maybe it is you, hermana, that is preggers?”

  She blushes and turns away so I can’t see her face.

  “You are, aren’t you?”

  Therese looks back at me and covers her lips with a finger for me to keep quiet.

  “Only Ramone knows. We’re only six weeks along so please don’t tell mamá or papi, okay?”

  I lean over and squeeze her in a hug, careful not to flip the plate on my lap.

  “Oh, Therese. I’m so happy for you. You will soon have more ninós than mama and papa did!”

  We laugh together conspiratorially and get to talking about babies. It warms my heart that she and Ramone are so happy and they have made such a beautiful family and life together.

  It reminds me that Lance and I still have a lot to learn about each other. Perhaps tonight is a good time to discover how he feels about children and what his plans are for family in the future.

  ~~~

  As I lay in his arms after a particularly hot and dirty round of sex, where he took me from behind, gripping my hair in his hand while my nails dug into the headboard, I’m just relaxed enough to ask.

  “Lance?”

  I can tell his eyes are closed even though my head is on his chest and I’m unable to see his face.

  “Mmm-hmm? What is it, baby? You ready to go again?” he jokes, finding a spot in my ribs to tickle. I squeal, wiggling out of his hold to get away from him.

  Propping myself up on my elbow, I look down at his relaxed and sated form. His body is a work of art and takes my breath away every time I see him naked. Sculpted and buff, his muscles are maddening. And the tattoo he has covering his arm and shoulder is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

  My fingers find their way there, tracing around the tribal ink patterns and the deep cut of his bicep.

  “Do you want kids someday?”

  His eyes pop wide as if I’ve just stung him with the snap of a rubber band.

  He scoffs. “Kids? Uh, I don’t know.”

  Nerves tingle through my blood because now I’m worried we won’t be on the same page. That my hopes and dreams aren’t aligned with his. And then what do we do? How do I suppress my own dreams to ensure his are met? What if we aren’t meant to be together forever?

  My heart plummets to my toes and I can feel the first sting of tears in the crease of my eyes.

  “I mean, do you want a family? Is it something you’ve considered?”

  He rolls to the side, mirroring me by propping himself up on his elbow, scrubbing the other hand down his face.

  “Mica, we come from very different families. Yours is close-knit and tight. Mine was as dysfunctional as one could be. Do I see myself as a father? No. And I really haven’t put any thought into it. You know me, I honestly don’t think more than a day out. It’s true what they say in the program, it is just one day at a time.”

  He winks at me and lays back down on the pillow, his hand behind his head in a relaxed fashion. He’s been through harrowing experiences that have shaped his life and his thought processes. Where I’m the glass half-full kind of girl who’s received all the love I’ve wanted, Lance has lived in the half-empty existence, trying desperately to fill it up with the love and attention from others.

  Not wanting to take the discussion any further for fear it could lead into an argument, I close my eyes and lay down on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

  “What would you have done if you’d gotten a girl pregnant?”

  His body visibly stiffens and I’ve stolen the air from his lungs.

  When he finally exhales, he laughs. “Fuck, Georgie. Where is this coming from? Are you worried I’m going to have a paternity suit someday? Don’t be. I’ve always been extremely careful.”

  Lance bends down and gently kisses at my collarbone, then my neck, moving down to the top of my breast until his mouth covers my nipple and he sucks. My body instinctively arches into him, seeking the pleasure that only he can give.

  When his mouth stops, he looks up at me with a wicked grin. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a sexy fantasy about knocking you up. Planting a baby inside your womb as you scream out my name in rapture. Fucking you when you’re round and pregnant and hormonal, so needy for my cock. Wanting it at all hours of the day and night.”

  His words turn me on, even though it’s only about the sexual act for him. The caveman aspect of getting me pregnant, not necessarily wanting a family. But I’m too far gone now to care. I roll over on top of him, straddling his hips and reaching for his already lengthening cock.

  “Oh yeah. Just like that. Your belly would be so big on your tiny body that the only way we could fuck is if you were riding me just like this,” he growls, his fingers gliding down from my breasts to circle my belly button before landing between the V between my legs.

  His thumb circles my clit as I grind down on him, his arousal prodding at my entrance and sliding through my wet folds.

  We’ve had sex together so many times before, but there’s something intimate and erotic about talking of making babies. Of his virility being the catalyst for the beauty of life.

  He presses down on my swollen nub and just like that, I climax, my body silently wracked with a pleasure so fierce that I fall on his chest in order to stay grounded.

  “Mica…fuck me. Put me inside you and ride me hard.”

  So I do.

  I close my eyes and place my hands on his rock hard chest as he pushes up and inside me and I ride him like there’s no tomorrow. Like this is all there ever will be. The beauty between us and the pleasures we give each other.

  I ride him until I feel myself coming apart at the seams again. Then I let myself fall down that hole that’s so deep I know I’ll never be able to climb back out from.

  And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  Chapter 31

  Lance

  Holy shit that was so hot. I keep thinking about the other night with Mica.

  I don’t know where that fantasy
stemmed from, because I’ve never thought about impregnating a girl before, but talking dirty with Mica about knocking her up was the hottest thing we’d ever talked about or done.

  But afterwards, she became extremely quiet. Shut-down and didn’t want to talk anymore. She said she was tired and rolled over and went to sleep. Which was fine, but very unlike her.

  I, on the other hand, stayed awake for hours. Her questions got me to thinking about the future. Where I wanted to go, what I wanted to do. I honestly haven’t put a lot of thought or energy into it, mostly because the talks with my therapist have been about the past and the present. Not too much about where I see myself in a year. Five years. Ten years.

  Yet that dream keeps coming back to me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it’s Mica standing there looking out at the water holding a kid. Maybe somewhere in the recesses of my mind I do envision that in the future. Having a family. Having a life with her. She’s the only solid thing I have in my life.

  Well, aside from basketball.

  I’m grateful to the coaching staff and everyone on the team for giving me a second chance. It’s helped me mature in ways that never would have happened had I not gone through rehab. And while I’m mostly sitting on the bench in games, like right now, seeing things from this perspective has given me a helluva lot of insight and direction.

  Tonight is senior night, which is the last regular season game until the brackets are announced before March Madness. I know I’ll get to play at some point in the game, but the second half has already begun and I’m still on the bench.

  In the past, I would have sat here and stewed, becoming more and more upset by the minute and then drinking my frustrations away at an afterparty.

  Tonight, though, there’s a realization that’s hit me. One that gives me purpose and drive. I’m alive and healthy, clean and sober, and have love in my heart. It makes the experience so much better. And I finally feel worthy of it.

  As does having Mica, Cade and Ainsley, Van, Kylah and a few other friends up there in the stands supporting me tonight. And I know that my mom and brother are watching me from above. They all have faith in me and it pushes me on and emboldens me to become a better man each and every day.

  Coach Parker sidles up to me and gives me a nudge.

  “You’re up, kid. Go show ‘em how it’s done.”

  Grinning a punk-ass smile at him, I whip off my warm-up pants and shirt and trod over to the ref table to check into the game. As soon as there’s a whistle or timeout, I’ll exchange spots with Javin, the other small forward out on the floor.

  The whistle blows and I charge out onto the court, pointing at J to gain his attention and let him know I’m taking his place. He passes me by with a fist bump and I ready myself in position. Our point guard, Tra’Von, has the ball from the sidelines and calls out our play before inbounding the pass to me.

  Eager excitement lights up my blood as I catch the ball and dribble down the court. There’s this revelatory anticipation that draws me down into the paint, looking to my left and right, and then making a pass to Christian in the center. He turns and fakes, shooting the ball back over to me. I circle, pump, and take a pull up jumper that hits only the net.

  The crowd goes wild and I receive head nods and bumps from my teammates as we rush back down the court, now on the defense. This feels good.

  I post up and block the shot of my opponent, who misses the basket and Tra’Von is there to get the rebound. We head back down the court and Tra calls out the play that I love. It’s a pump fake, alley oop. It’s when he pretends to take a shot from mid-court and I, in the meantime, rush under the basket, lift off into the air, Tra arcs the ball toward the rim and I catch it and slam it home.

  It’s fucking perfection.

  Until I land.

  The defensive guy, Josh Everson, comes down at the same time as me, and somehow, we get tangled up together. When I land on both feet, I end up stepping on his shoe, and my ankle turns in the opposite direction of my foot.

  Pain sears through my leg as I reach for my ankle and writhe on the floor under the basket, screaming obscenities while holding my leg. When I look at it I think I’m going to pass out. This is not just a sprain. The ankle bone is popped out and looks like a broken tree branch.

  Just like that, I know my season is over.

  It’s been a good ride but I’m irritated it had to end this way. I had so much more play in me.

  Why, me?

  The coaches and trainer come rushing out and begin fussing over me, but I close my eyes in pain.

  And then another realization hits me square in the gut.

  No matter how painful this is or will be, or whether I have to incur surgery and pins or plates…I will have to endure all of it without the aid of drugs or medication. The only thing I can take to alleviate pain is Tylenol and Advil.

  Fuck, I’m hosed.

  ~~~

  A few hours later, x-rays and MRI having been done and doctors and nurses poking and prodding, they’ve informed me I have a stress fracture in both my metatarsal and fibula bones. Weight-bearing bone fractures like this are extremely common in sport, especially with basketball players, due to the excessive running and jumping.

  The plus side is no surgery is required, but I’ll be required to remain off the foot for the next six-to-eight weeks in order for it to repair itself. The most important thing now is to ice and elevate to keep the swelling down.

  I’d been able to text Mica before they sent me off to the hospital so she knew where to find me and could join me here after all the medical exams.

  Lying here in the hospital bed is eerily familiar. I could do without hospitals for a while.

  There’s a soft knock on the door and Mica’s soft voice fills the room.

  “Lance? Can I come in?”

  The curtain has been drawn around the bed so she’s not visible yet, but when she comes around the corner, I see the concern stitched in her beautiful features.

  “Hey baby, come’ere,” I beckon, holding out my arms to her.

  She cries softly and buries her head in my neck.

  “Shh, it’s okay, Georgie. Nothing that a little rest and time can’t heal.”

  Mica continues to sniffle and I feel the wetness absorbing in my hospital gown.

  When she finally pulls back, the look on her face is horrifying. It looks like she fears for my life.

  I try to reassure her. “Baby, I promise. It’ll be fine.”

  Wiping away the tears from her face with her hand, she stares at me for a moment before she drops the bomb.

  “It’s not that, Lance…” she hiccups. “I’m late.”

  Late? Late for what? I’m totally stymied and have no idea what she’s talking about.

  As if she can read my confusion, she straightens her spine, clutching the purse she holds to her side for support.

  “I was going to tell you tonight, before all this happened. But I, uh…I think I’m pregnant.”

  Holy Jesus.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  “When? How? No.” I firmly cement my feelings on the subject and notice her flinch.

  We are not having a kid. We’re too young. I’m too messed up. I have nothing to offer. I don’t want it.

  A few minutes ago, my only problem was keeping my hospital gown from exposing my lily-white ass to anyone coming in the room and the pain that radiated up from my toes.

  It wasn’t something of this magnitude. It wasn’t life-altering.

  Taking a long inhale, I let it go and reach for her hand.

  “I’m not father material, Mica. You must know that. I love you, but I don’t want to have a baby. Not now. There must be other options. We aren’t ready to have a kid.”

  I don’t know what I expect her to do or say, but it isn’t this.

  She gives me a slight nod, kisses my cheek and turns and walks out of the room.

  I’m left utterly speechless and alone.

&nbs
p; And I have no idea if she’ll be back.

  Chapter 32

  Mica

  Two lines.

  Two home pregnancy tests.

  A week late.

  As a nursing student, I know the HPT’s aren’t always accurate and the only way to be a hundred percent sure is to have a blood and urine test at the doctor’s, but I’m pretty sure it’s right.

  I wouldn’t have told Lance about it if I wasn’t sure.

  At first I thought it was just the stress of everything lately. I was feeling run down and exhausted. Thought it might be a late winter flu. Or I’d been working myself so hard with the upcoming end of the school year that it was just typical fatigue.

  But I’m never late.

  After taking the two tests, I’m stretched out on the couch staring at the ceiling, my hand unconsciously rubbing my belly.

  How could this happen to us? Everything was just getting on track and going so well. Lance is healthy and sober, and things are great between us. We’re in love and happy together.

  With still a year left in my nursing program, my plans are to get a job in a neo-natal unit in a hospital after I graduate. Having a baby right now is not in my plans. It’s not supposed to work that way.

  I’d always had it in my head that when I told the father of my baby that I was pregnant, he’d hoop and holler with glee, picking me up and swinging me around in utter joy to celebrate the happy occasion.

  Lance’s response to me being pregnant was definitely not like that.

  I realize my timing was horrible, and I could kick myself for how I just blurted it out, after he’d just sustained such a blow with his foot and ankle diagnosis. What was I thinking?

  I wasn’t. My hormones and emotions had gotten the best of me. And I totally screwed things up. Maybe if I hadn’t approached it quite like that he would’ve been happier or not as adamant about the decision.

  Up until now, I hadn’t really thought of the consequences. It didn’t even dawn on me that he wouldn’t want it with me. Because he said he loved me and I thought that meant something. I thought he would be there for me and we could live happily ever after.