“So, because of my age, your answer is to kill the baby growing inside me? Your grandchild?” I reiterate what she’s saying back to her, so she can hear how crazy it sounds.
My mom is pro-life all the way. So are my dad, brother, and I.
My dad would swallow his tongue if he heard the way my mom is speaking right now.
Not that I’m knocking abortions because people are free to make their own choices, and I’m not going to tell them what to do with their bodies. But I personally don’t believe in them unless it’s a tenuous situation. There’s nothing tenuous about Hunter’s and my relationship. We’re in love. Eventually, it would have led to children. We’re just going about it backward.
“It’s not as crazy as you’re making it out to be,” she says, and I have a feeling if she were a teenager, she would have rolled her eyes. “The process doesn’t leave any lasting damage. You’ll still be able to conceive when the time is right, and right now, it isn’t.”
“Mom?” I crane my head to the side, studying her mannerisms. “Have you—”
Her look says it all. The moment her eyes meet mine, tears build along the surface, crest over my lashes, then streak down my face in rapid succession.
That’s why it’s so easy for her to encourage something like this. She’s had an abortion before, but … when?
“H—When?” I stammer.
She shakes her head, causing a few stray tears to break away as she turns her head and no longer makes eye contact. “We were your brother’s age when I became pregnant the first time.”
The first time? Are there more?
I lick my dry lips. “But you and Daddy were married already when you were Duncan’s age. Why would you?”
She shrugs. Actually freaking shrugs, like killing an innocent baby, is just another decision like cleaning the gutters or mopping the kitchen floors.
“We couldn’t afford a baby then, Harloe. I made the decision to the best of my ability.”
“Does Dad know you killed his child?” I think I know the answer, but I want her to say it. I want her to put her betrayal into words.
She shakes her head back and forth crazily, choking on a sob. Pushing her fingers into her hair, she looks at me with exasperation, like I’m not getting the point she’s trying to prove. Oh, I am. She wants me to take care of it without Hunter knowing. The same way she took care of my and Duncan’s older sibling without our dad knowing about it.
“Don’t think of it like that. You and Hunter are children, Lo. The second you tell him you’re carrying his child, he will toss you to the side. He is a Prince. His family is made of gold around these parts. The second you say I’m pregnant, you can forget any future you have planned with that boy because they won’t allow it.”
Is that really what she thinks? The Princes would never do something like that to me. I’ve been best friends with Hunter since we were in diapers. We used to play together under the weeping willow that separated our house from the house that sits between ours.
Any time you saw Hunter, I was there. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Fuck, they used to put us in the same crib together because Mom said I couldn’t sleep, and Hunter’s presence always calmed me down.
We are soulmates—two halves of a whole. No way would his parents—or Hunter, for that matter—toss me away like I mean nothing. There’s too much history.
She makes me livid. Her actions, her suggestions—just her in general. The sight of her sickens me, and I can’t decide if it’s over the abortion she didn’t tell my dad about, or the fact she never consulted him about it. I mean, it was his baby, too, wasn’t it? They both loved each other and wanted to start a family. Maybe the timing was off, but they wouldn’t have gotten married if they hadn’t welcomed the idea of love and children.
From somewhere deep down in the pit of my stomach, blazing anger rises to the surface. “So, that’s your suggestion? An abortion?” She nods. I step toward her, baring my teeth in a sneer. “I’m not you, Mom. I can’t get rid of a life without at least allowing the dad the courtesy of knowing it exists. Future wise—because there is a future with Hunter and me—where would that leave us? He would consider what I did a betrayal and leave me sitting. And besides that, I don’t believe in taking care of it.
“Yes, what happened was a surprise. Is it a lot to take in? Yes. But to outright extinguish the problem before thinking things through and letting him know about it? No. I refuse to do that. It’s called common courtesy, which apparently, you know nothing about.”
All these years, I didn’t know the person my mom was behind the mask. Not to say she hasn’t been a terrific mom to Duncan and me but doing something like that without even talking to your husband about it seems pretty shitty. And then allowing your teenage daughter to find out before him?
Shaking my head at her, I grab the test and walk toward my connecting door and throw it open. Stomping into my room, I grab my bag, shove the test inside, and then slip into my shoes and grab my jacket. By the time I’m finished, my mom is still standing in the middle of the bathroom, looking like her dog just died.
Once she realizes I’m there, she looks up at me. “You tell him, or I will. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to do what you should have had the decency to do with Dad all those years ago—I’m going to tell Hunter that he’s about to be a dad.”
She appears crestfallen but numbly nods her head. Leave it to my mom to throw a wrench into a situation where there’s already one being thrown.
I take the stairs two at a time, being mindful not to fall. As soon as I get to the bottom of the stairs, both my dad and my brother glance up from the table where all the fixings of a pre-Christmas feast dot along the surface. Sadness overwhelms me, and before I know what’s happening, tears are slowly falling down my cheeks.
Once they see my distress, they go to stand up, but I motion them to stay where they are. If they get up now and try to console me, I’ll probably blab the whole sordid story to them. That’s not my story to tell, and I hope and pray my dad can handle it when she goes explain everything to him.
“I’m going to walk down to Hunter’s for just a moment.” My dad stares at me cautiously, then marginally narrows his eyes, almost as if he’s putting a jigsaw puzzle together, and I’m the strangest piece he’s ever seen. I give him a smile to lighten the air. “I’ll be back before the food gets cold. Promise.”
Before either can say a word, I make my way out of the house and onto the driveway. The night air is crisp and smells like snow. The trees are bare and frightful to peer at, with their bony branches and gnarly bark. Our street is quiet and empty. Everyone is either partying two streets over at the McKenzies, or they’re bunked down watching Christmas movies, eating cookies, and drinking hot chocolate.
The soles of my tennis shoes slap against the wet pavement. Huddling deeper into my jacket, I mull over everything that happened and the conversation I don’t have the energy to have but must with Hunter. Ever since I found out, everything is so much clearer: my fatigue, nausea, tenderness, lack of comfortableness. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since before we were released from school for winter break.
Hunter was actually supposed to come over today to visit, but he texted and laughed about how his mom needed him to do stuff for her and that he’d catch me later. Mrs. Prince always needs Hunter to do things for her, so I didn’t really mind that. What I did mind, however, was the fact that he’s been radio silent ever since.
I soon get to the corner to turn down his street when I hear the purring of a truck from behind me. Well, not really a purr—more of a gurgling noise, like the entire engine is guzzling the bottle of oil my dad has to put in it every day. Coming to a stop next to me, I grimace as the brakes grind against the rotor.
“Baby girl, you’ll catch your death out here. Jump on in the truck.”
Something about his voice makes me stop and listen, even in my overly emotional state. But there is also this deep, knowin
g regret in it, too. Wonder if my dad knows about the baby? Mine, of course, not the one he lost.
After a moment of hesitation, I nod just as a burst of wind nearly cuts me in half. Shivering violently, I make my way around the truck in a hurry, then take the proffered door he’d opened, climbing inside. Huddling smaller for warmth, I cup my hands in front of my face and blow hot air into them.
Usually, in Georgia, it doesn’t get this cold. But for some reason, it’s been unusually bitter this winter. More snow than we’ve had in the past two decades was reported this year, too.
I buckle my belt as my dad puts the truck in drive and patters onward. However, before long, he says something that nearly has me swallowing my tongue. I jerk to the left, pinning him with a look. He never meets my eyes, but I know he saw my reaction from the corner of his eye. How could he not?
“I know about the baby, Lo.” I don’t know whether to swallow my tongue or puke.
“What baby?”
He side-eyes me, then returns his attention back onto the road. “I know about your mom’s first pregnancy. What baby did you think I was—”
He slams on the brakes, causing the truck to skid a good five or six feet on the wet road. My hands catch on the dashboard, and even without looking in his direction—I’m too afraid to at this point—I hear his heavy breathing.
From my peripheral vision, I see the way his hands tighten and release on the wheel. “You better answer me, little girl. What baby did you think I was talking about? I’ll bend you over my knee if you lie to me.”
Gulping, I lick my lips as heat brandishes my skin. “Daddy, please don’t hate me.”
“No, no, no,” he groans, and the tears are already making their way out of my eyes when I see him bow his head against the steering wheel in defeat. “I thought your mom took care of this.”
I know he’s not trying to be mean, but his words still hit their target. “We didn’t plan this, Daddy, I swear. Mom said it was cause I may have taken antibiotics before Thanksgiving.”
“Donald fuck on a cracker.” In a time like this, I can’t even bring myself to smile at his choice of words. The only thing I feel is a deep-seated feeling of failure like I let him down.
I’m a Daddy’s girl, so knowing I could have let my hero down in some way is an arrow to my heart.
“I’m so sorry, Daddy!” I weep, covering my face in my cool hands. “We used protection. We did everything we were suppose—”
His thick, muscular hand slicing through the air shuts me up in an instant. “Having a baby at a young age may have worked out for us, darlin’, but that doesn’t mean it works out for everyone. The simple fact is your mom already had a ring on her finger, and she was almost seventeen when we got married. You don’t have a ring or any promises.”
“How is that bad?” I ask, twisting in my seat. “You and Mom have a fantastic marriage. You both love each other. Hunter will be there, Daddy. He will.”
He grows serious within the blink of an eye, a crestfallen expression masking his features. “It wasn’t always this easy, baby girl. Your mom and I …” He takes his lips between his teeth, softly biting on the plump piece of skin. “We weren’t always in the best of places with each other.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Lots of marriages have ups and downs, Daddy.”
He shakes his head. “Not like this. The baby I’m talking about? I know all about your mom’s abortion. I’ve just been sitting here waiting for her to tell me herself.”
My mouth falls agape. “You’ve been waiting seventeen years?”
“Eighteen,” he replies, giving me a dark look. “She got pregnant with that baby four months before she got pregnant with Duncan.”
“This whole time … you knew?”
He shoots me a look. “Of course, I knew. She couldn’t really hide an abortion when she used her insurance card to pay for it. As you know, her insurance is connected to mine through my position at work.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask, completely dumfounded.
Anyone who knows my dad knows without a doubt how very outspoken he is. He’s very political, doesn’t cuss unless things really bother him, and even then, he makes the curse words sound like cartoon characters to soften their intensity. He’s a hardworking man who’s always provided for his family. Never once has he asked for anything other than our health to be tip-top and for our love to overflow.
He’s a simple man with simple tastes and simple needs.
But he’s the most complex person I’ve ever met if he knew about his child and didn’t say anything.
“I figured she would tell me when she got enough courage to.”
“Or she could be hoping you never found out about it.”
He nods. “That too.” Then he goes quiet for a moment as he once more puts the truck in drive and rambles on down the street, but then he sighs and asks in the smallest voice I think I’ve ever heard from him before, “I take it you’re going to do the right by that boy, aren’t you?”
I heave a sigh. “I’m not getting an abortion, Dad, regardless of if he wants to be there or not. But yeah, I’m tellin’ him.”
After a few moments of silence, he parks in front of the Princes’ home—a three-story monstrous thing, with vines covering one side of the house, big, thick columns holding the minuscule roof that’s supposed to opt as a porch. A circular drive with a few more parked cars than usual.
“Good girl.”
His praise makes me smile. While he may be pissed about me having a kid at sixteen, he’s not when it comes to me doing the right thing. I know, even in the hardest times, that he’ll always be there for me. Just like I know Duncan will, too.
I can’t be like my mom and hide something like this from the one person who deserves to know. Hunter has done nothing wrong, and he should know—and have an opinion—about where we go from here. And while this isn’t what I would usually do, just showing up like this without texting or calling, I figured this is a serious situation that needs to be dealt with as soon as possible.
Giving my dad a kiss, I jump out of the truck and give him a thin smile. I can’t let him know how terrified I am right now. This pregnancy test is burning a hole in my purse, and the guy who should see it the most is right inside. Wonder what his reaction will be? Will he be happy? Sad? Mad?
The unknown is what gnaws at my gut the most. Hunter is such an eccentric person, hot one minute and cold the next.
I shake my head. He couldn’t go cold on me for something like this. Smiling for real, I rub my stomach, even though it’s crazy with the pregnancy being so new, and I start up his driveway just as my dad pulls away and heads home. Knowing my luck, he’ll probably venture in having that conversation with Mom tonight, and I don’t know if I’m ready to be part of that yet.
My feet squelch into the muddy grass shortly before I hit the blacktop in front of their semblance of a porch. Mustering all the courage that I can possibly can, I raise my finger, but instead of pushing down on the doorbell, my hand just slightly hovers away from it, shaking up a storm.
“Come on, you can do this, Harloe,” I murmur to myself, then force what little courage I have to the forefront, making my finger push down the button.
My throat is tight with anxiety and nerves, making it hard to swallow. Breathing becomes more erratic the longer I stand here in the blistering cold, shuffling from side to side.
An unsettling feeling churns in my stomach when I glance back at the car, seeing one in the drive that I’m not familiar with. Hopefully, they don’t have important company. I know how important Mr. Prince is, and I’d hate to interrupt anything. Wouldn’t have to if he had texted you back, my inner voice snidely comments.
Pushing it all from my head, I ring the bell again. This time, it opens almost instantly with Mrs. Prince shadowing the opening.
Her eyes widen imperceptibly. If I hadn’t been looking at her face, I would’ve never known I’d caught her off guard. But I did, and her r
eaction to my presence is shady as crap.
“What are you doing here, honey?” she asks a bit too sugary.
She and I haven’t always gotten along, but she does tolerate me due to my dad and her husband’s friendship. She even pretends to like my mom for Liam’s sake, when we all know she looks down her nose at her.
Also, I can’t tell her the real reason why I’m here, not before Hunter. No, I need to tell him in private, and then he can share the news however he likes. I just hope he does intend to let people know, and his thoughts don’t automatically turn toward what my mom suggested. If so, I’ll be heartbroken.
Instead, I think of a lie on the spot. “I came to give Hunter his Christmas present.” I smile, gesturing to my bag. “I know tomorrow is a bit busy for him going to both grandparents’ homes, so I was going to swap gifts earlier. But he said he had a lot to do, and so, here I am.”
“Well, darling—” She shifts uneasily in her heels. That should have been a red flag right there, but instead, like an innocent teenager, I didn’t know anything.
“Well, what?” I ask, the churning in my stomach getting worse. Especially when she looks behind the door at someone, and then brings her eyes back to mine. Her features are sad yet angry at the same time.
There’s something wrong, and I’m going to find out what. Hunter’s been acting strange the last couple days, barely texting and calling—something he’s never done before. In all my years knowing him, he’s never treated me like this. I just thought that it was the holidays getting to him because he’s carted around until he’s exhausted. But I think it’s probably something more than that, and I’m going to find out right now.
I step forward, taking her off guard. She can’t scramble fast enough to keep me out of the house. She murmurs something like, “I never,” but I can’t be crapped to give a damn right now. And I know the reason why when I get a face full of it.
Our Secret: A College Bully Romance (Golden Crew Book 1) Page 3
