Authors: Sosie Frost
The door slammed.
Oh,
shit
. That was what.
Zach.
Well…he was the one person who probably also deserved to hear the news. Generally fathers liked to know they were fathers. Most of them. The good ones, at least. Not that I knew any great fathers, but I really, really thought Zach might have turned into one.
If he even wanted to be a father.
If he hadn’t already pledged to return to his overseas missions. Dangerous missions. He nearly died on a battlefield only a year ago. My stomach lurched, but this fear tasted different than my usual nausea. Distance wasn’t the only problem that would separate my baby from her father.
Zach could get hurt.
He could die.
That was a little too much to take in right now, especially when most of my insides were trying to heave upwards and escape. Twenty-one years old, and I was
pregnant
.
The revelation knocked me on my ass and saw fit to keep me there. How the hell was I supposed to tell Zach if I hadn’t even come close to processing it yet?
I needed some time to think. The house was big enough for me to hide in. I’d find a cozy place for the afternoon, make some tea, and I’d…figure it all out. Child-rearing 101 for the woman who just flunked out of college.
Oh, that didn’t help the stress.
I snuck out of the bathroom too slowly. Zach rounded the corner as the door creaked. Thirty-thousand square feet and not a single can of WD-40 for the hinges.
“Hey,” he said.
My shock turned to annoyance. For
days
he had been completely and totally absent—rushing around doing God-knows-what to get everything ready for his deployment. I called, texted, even made a couple dinners with extra servings for when he got back.
Apparently Zach was super-fertile but not super-considerate.
“Where have you been?” My voice edged a little too harsh.
I inwardly groaned. My anxiety released in a bitchy herald. I didn’t want to start an argument. I took a breath. “I’ve been worried.”
Zach shrugged. “Had something to take care of. I’ve got a headache. I’m going to lay down.”
Another headache? He did look pale, and the sharpness of his green eyes dulled. He hadn’t smiled yet.
All I needed was a flash of his dimples. If I could just have a moment with my light-hearted, goofy Zach, everything would have been okay.
But he didn’t give me that. Even his voice turned gruff.
What was wrong with him?
And if he was already in a bad mood, what would a pregnancy do to him?
I crossed my arms, inadvertently hiding my tummy from him, like now that I discovered the baby I’d suddenly balloon to the size of a watermelon. As far as I knew, women didn’t do that.
I hoped.
“Wait,” I said. Zach hesitated before heading upstairs. “I…I have something to tell you.”
“Can it wait?”
He bit the words. I frowned. What a way to welcome a child into the world.
Hey, I’m pregnant,
with a resounding response of
Fuck
. No one deserved that, even a little peanut sized surprise that complicated everything.
He’d said he wanted a chance, just a shot to be with me. And he promised what I felt for him was a
good
thing and not the mistake of my lifetime.
Or worse—a mistake of the baby’s lifetime.
“I would really like to talk to you now,” I said.
Zach rubbed his face, tugging his hand over the blonde scruff on his chin. “What is it?”
He did
not
need to take an attitude with me. I snorted. I wasn’t about to shout I was pregnant at him in the same tone I’d yell for him to pick up his laundry. We lived in a mansion for Christ’s sake. The money to our name almost required us discussing a child over a candlelit dinner of lobster and caviar while we thought of names like
Chet
and
Muffy
.
My heart fluttered. I could blame Zach’s miserable mood all I wanted.
But it wasn’t him. It was me.
I chickened out.
“I…” The words stuck. I gave up. “I talked with my attorney and investment partners. I can get the trust released to me early if you agree to change the terms.”
“You had to ask me that?”
“You’re named in the will, so…yep.”
“Whatever you need, you got it.”
Zach rubbed his temple and turned toward the stairs. That was it? No jokes? No smiles?
My stomach flipped again, but it wasn’t the baby. I didn’t want him to go. I sucked in a breath.
“I think it’s a good idea.” I spoke just to gain his attention, trying to work up the courage to brave the real conversation. “I’ll get my program up and running. Meet with some potential groups to invest. You know, to spend some of this money.”
He frowned. “Most people would kill for your money.”
“That’s why it doesn’t feel right taking it.”
“Why?” His voice sharpened. I didn’t appreciate the tone, and it didn’t help me build up the courage to consider mentioning the baby.
“I just stumbled into this fortune. My father was a complete stranger to me.” I stuttered over the word
father
. Zach didn’t notice. “I wasn’t a daughter to him, I was an afterthought. He chose a life apart from me.”
“And you think that’s actually how it went down?”
I bristled. “I was there.”
“You didn’t give him enough credit.”
“What the hell would you know about it?” The
last
thing I wanted was to protect the jackass who walked out on me and Momma. It still hurt my heart to remember, and it destroyed me to imagine it happening again.
“Forget it.”
Hell no. Not with that attitude. I hardened my words.
“My father didn’t want me,” I said. “He didn’t
love
me. So excuse me if this feels weird. For all I know, he never meant for me to have the money at all. Maybe I was an afterthought, or some place to stick his fortune so it wouldn’t turn over to the state.”
“Oh Christ.”
I didn’t let him finish. “So yes. I feel like I’m taking a stranger’s money only because he couldn’t haul it with him to the afterlife. It doesn’t sit well on my conscience…unlike other people I know.”
Zach’s jaw tightened. “Here we go. Having the same goddamned fight every fucking week.”
“You asked!”
He nodded. “And it was stupid. I already knew you’d use it as a wedge between us.”
“I’m not wedging!”
“You’ve used any excuse you could to pull away from me.”
I swallowed. I so wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Look, I can’t…I need some time. I can’t talk about
us
now.”
“Why not?” He stood in front of me. “Let’s just do it. Get it all out in the open.”
Did he want me to throw up on his shoes? Cause I’d do it. Nothing about his anger set right with me. I wasn’t ready to confront any of this yet. Not the money, not his leaving, not a pregnancy.
“Zach, please.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
Everything. “Don’t ask me that.”
“How can I fix it if I don’t know what it is?”
Why did he start now? I stared at him, holding a hard gaze I didn’t recognize. God, he was handsome. Strong. He had a smile that’d charm my pants off and a mischievous side that’d steal my panties. But it wasn’t enough. It’d
never
be enough. Not when I knew what would happen the instant I let myself feel everything for him.
When I finally let myself love him.
“You’re a SEAL,” I said. “A soldier. Can you fix that? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you’re going to stay here, with me, without having to leave for six months to put your life in danger?”
“It’s a
job
, Shay.”
“You asked!” I said. “And that’s my answer. I was abandoned once before, and it felt like shit. I’m won’t put myself through it again.”
“You weren’t abandoned!”
“Then what would you call it?”
Zach grunted. He motioned for me to stay put, an order I immediately ignored. I marched to the library before my stomach flipped again. Zach stormed through the doors, holding an old shoebox. He rattled the contents with a frown.
“You really think you were abandoned?” He thrust the box at my chest. “Here. Take it.”
The box was beat up and yellowed. I knocked the lid off with a cautious finger. Bundles of pictures rested inside—a scrapbook without the book or organization or artistic talent. Each photo was meticulously labeled and dated with a little thought about the moment.
My father’s handwriting.
On pictures of me.
I recognized the curly haired demon in a pink frilly bathing suit playing in a sprinkler. My dad scribbled on the back.
Shay—four years old—loving the water!
I swallowed. The lump in my throat kept the nausea down. Another picture—little me in a tiny yellow graduation gown.
Shay—five years old—kindergarten graduation, next step Law School!
Zach scowled. “I found those in the study. Your father put them in the fireproof cabinet so nothing would happen to them.”
The packages of pictures dwindled the older I became. The most recent one rested on top of the pile. I trembled as I held it, like it weighed heavier than the others. I recognized my high school graduation picture, but the message meant more than the diploma in my hand.
Shay—high school graduation—wish I could tell her she gets more beautiful every day.
“He never abandoned you,” Zach said. “Did you see the room he designed for you here? The only reason I took the damn master bedroom was because I thought you’d like that one. Hell, he even built you a balcony and planted your favorite flowers in the garden beneath it. He
wanted
you here.”
My voice weakened. “But I didn’t want balconies and flowers. I wanted my
father
.”
“And he wanted you. The first time I met him? He took me and my mother out for dinner. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, Shay. Not for a minute. He was so proud of you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Would you have believed me? Would it have mattered? Just because he wasn’t around didn’t mean he didn’t love you. It meant you didn’t
let
him love you.” He swore. “And you’re doing it again with me.”
“I’m not.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “Fuck, Shay. I’m crazy about you. Give me a sign I’m not wasting my time chasing after you.”
Oh no.
No way.
Now? He wanted declarations
now
? While we screamed at each other? While we hurt each other in my library sanctuary where he took me, loved me, and created a baby with me?
I looked away, head in my hands. He assumed that was my answer. I was just trying to make the room stop spinning.
Sweat broke out over me, everywhere, chilled and terrified.
I didn’t want to lose Zach.
I should have told him. Everything. That I was scared of loving my step-brother. That I wanted him more than anything in my life. That I had fallen for him hard enough to bounce through every floor of the mansion and still not strike bottom.
I should have told him I was terrified of loving someone with every pounding strike of my heart only to lose them to time, distance, or an accident on a battlefield across the world.
But I said the wrong thing instead.
“I just want some time to figure it out,” I whispered. “Please.”
“You know what?” Zach’s voice hardened. “There’s nothing to think about. There’s me, there’s you, and there’s something
good
between us. If you don’t want to see it? Fine.”
He didn’t finish his thought. I stood, stunned, as he stormed to the main hall.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t answer.
“Zach, wait.”
He didn’t listen. I followed to the entry, flinching as the front door slammed behind him.
“I love you.”
But he was gone.
I cradled a hand over my belly. The baby was the size of a cocktail nut, but even she knew her momma was an idiot. Still, I didn’t see her helping when I should have run after him. My stomach heaved. I bolted for the bathroom instead.
This was a mess. Worse than a mess. I sat against the wall and held my head in my hands.
So this was what it felt like to be ruined.
Heartbroken.
Truly abandoned.
I hated it.
But I’d fix it. I didn’t know how, but I’d fix it. I was a coward, but I wasn’t a fool.
I needed him. The baby needed him. And if I only had the memory of his lips against mine between deployments, I’d make it work.
I loved Zach.
And it was time he understood that.
Chapter Twenty - Zach
Fuck, my head hurt.
Throbbing pain.
I couldn’t think. I couldn’t see.
And Shay begged me to come to some goddamned dinner party for her and her friends.
I couldn’t fucking stand up without the world spinning. I’d puke before I made it downstairs. God fucking forbid I stain her Daddy’s precious rug. We weren’t living in a house. It was a shrine to her own damn insecurities—some place she didn’t feel at home and wanted nothing more than to forget.
My phone buzzed. The sound grated through my skull and burrowed just to detonate an explosive charge.
Gretchen.
I shoved the phone off my nightstand and ignored it for the fourth time. She wanted to know how the physical went. But she knew the prognosis. Reminded me of it every goddamned day. Christ, she even wrote the damn prescription that fucked everything up.
Gretchen could figure it out.
But Shay wondered about the physical went too.
Jesus fucking Christ.
I liked it when I was the only one worrying about my own goddamned future. I already let the squad down. The last thing I wanted was Shay’s pity. Or her getting pissed off because I lied. Or that she’d find yet another reason to deny what she felt for me.
I tried to stand. My legs buckled under me. I sat on the edge of the bed. The motion blinded me like a punch to the gut and kick to the head, and I didn’t know which was worse.