Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (5 page)

No Rest for the Weary

“W
hat happened to you?”

I turned at my mom’s voice. “Nothing.” I thought for a second. Nothing that she could see anyway, though my knuckles ached like a bitch after slugging Noah. “What do you mean?”

She glanced at the clock behind me on my nightstand. “It’s after nine. You missed supper.” Her eyes were sad, wary; like she didn’t know what to say to me. She hadn’t really known what to say to me since the night I broke her heart.

I finished putting my wallet down next to my keys and sighed. Some stupid, tired, spent part of me just wanted to curl up into her arms like I used to when I was younger. But I hadn’t done that in years and I didn’t know where the thought even came from. “Sorry. After the doctor’s, I went over to Jonah’s. Guess I lost track of time.”

“Well, I wish you would’ve called. I realize you’re growing up . . .” She drew in a breath and I caught her eye. She didn’t want to say ‘You’re going to be a father.’ Hell, I didn’t really want to say it either. “But you’re still a minor and we’re still your parents. I’d appreciate a little courtesy. If you’re going to be late, you need to call so I won’t worry.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Jeez. I was home before curfew. Didn’t that count for anything?

She nodded. “How is Melissa?”

“Fine.”

She rolled her lips and held the upper one between her teeth for a moment. Her nervous habit. “The baby?” she finally asked in a whisper.

Something cracked in my gut. But I wouldn’t let her see. I looked at the wall instead. “Fine. But it looks like a peanut right now.”

A soft laugh huffed out on a breath. “So . . . they’re healthy?”

I glanced back at her, idly wondering if the baby would have her hazel eyes—my hazel eyes— and saw the tears hovering on her lashes. Damn it. “Yeah. The doctor says everything looks good. She’s due around January 20
th
.”

She forced a sad smile. “Almost your dad’s birthday.”

I hadn’t thought about that. Honestly, the baby having my father’s January 23
rd
birthday was the last thing on my mind. I shrugged, not sure how that made me feel. There was a time I would’ve probably been thrilled. But, now? Now I just hated that my dad hated me. “I guess.”

She stepped further into the room as if getting braver now that I was kinda talking to her. “So, have you guys talked about any plans? What you want to do about school? Anything?”

I looked over her shoulder as Dad’s TV show blared out with particularly loud gunfire. I sat on the bed and focused back on her. “I need to get a job, I know that. Melissa’s pretty much not able to work babysitting or anything anymore since she’s felt so lousy. But she’s for sure that we need to keep this baby, so I want to help her.” I wouldn’t voice the fears that were eating me alive.

“What about you?”

“Me?”

She tilted her head. “You said
Melissa
was for sure about keeping the baby. What about you?” It sounded as if the words stuck in her throat painfully.

I glanced down then back up, trying to look as if I meant it. I did mean it. Right? “Oh. Sure. Me, too.”

“Okay.” She sat next to me. “And school?”

“We know we need to finish.” I swallowed. “It’ll be hard, I know. But Mel’s parents said they’d try to help her find an alternative high school she can go to that’ll let her take the baby until she graduates.”

“And after?”

“After what?”

She gripped my hand. “After high school.”

Oh. She was really asking if we intended to get married, get low-paying, crap jobs, move into some small apartment or trailer park, and never fulfill all the dreams we’d had for ourselves.

Never get any further than Freeport and the refineries.

All because of some little peanut of a thing.

“I don’t know,” I answered her honestly. “I guess we’ll see when we get there. But I’d still like to go to college. So would Mel.” God, I hoped I wasn’t just saying what my mom wanted to hear, because I could almost literally see my engineering dream slipping away before my eyes, and it was all I could do not to be bitter.

She threw her arms around me. “Then do it, Reed. Please. We’ll help you all we can, but you are so smart, so capable . . . I know you can make a good life for yourself.” She pulled back and looked me square in the face, her eyes mirroring my own. “I know this isn’t what you wanted, Son, but I’m proud of you for trying to do the right thing. Not all young men do.” She kissed my cheek. “I love you.”

I swallowed thickly against the tears burning the back of my throat. “Thanks, Mom.”

She stood to go, then turned at the door. “Oh. I saved you the paper.” She smirked. “You’ll be needing those Want Ads.”

June 20
th

Yup, still pregnant. I see the fear all over Reed’s face, but he tries to hide it from me. I love him all the more for it. If only he knew I felt that too, and so much more.

This morning, I awoke to the smell of something gross that sent me back to the bathroom puking. (When does this go away?)

After I got myself together, I found Mom in the kitchen cooking sausage for breakfast AND getting a roast ready to cook all day. The super meaty mix of smells was just nasty! I almost bypassed her and left for school, not sure what to say to her anymore. Things have been so tense between us lately. But, she spotted me, and for the first time, I noticed how tired she looks. Her blond ponytail was saggy and her normally happy, sparkling eyes were ringed with dark circles. But you know what really broke my heart? Behind her, next to the stove, I saw the piddly multi-colored hot pad I wove together when I was in third grade. Why did she keep that hideous thing? It was then that I realized how this is probably hard on her, too. My mom thought she couldn’t have children. Chris was a surprise pregnancy just as my adoption was going through, and she could never have more. She’s told me umpteen times how I am “the child of her heart” and “chosen” by her and Dad. I used to believe her, but I began to question it all when I was about eight. I was really feeling the preferential treatment Chris got and she never did anything about how grandma and grandpa treated me, so I got mad and told her that I wanted to find my real mom. Well, she totally shut me down. Like Cruella De Vil shut me down. She was pissed! I never did understand why, and she’s never said. I quit asking, but the dream has stayed. Does my biological mom have my dark eyes, unlike the rest of my family’s blue ones? Does she like the same music? Is she pretty? Does she love me?

Take this Job and Shove It

W
ant Ads aren’t meant for teenagers.

I trudged through those stupid things for hours the next day, made dozens of calls, filled out tons of online applications, and even drove around to find a few of the places that only listed obscure addresses . . . only to find myself with one measly interview. As a bus boy at Castaway’s. The food was okay, but I didn’t exactly relish the idea of clearing dirty dishes all day.

I hung up the phone from scheduling the interview and glanced up at my dad who’d just walked into the kitchen.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi, Dad.” It was practically the first time he’d spoken to me since The Great Disappointment.

He opened the fridge and pulled out the orange juice. “Whatcha doin’?”

I glanced down at the paper. “Looking for a job.”

“How’s it going?”

“Not so good.”

He found a glass and raised a brow to ask me if I wanted one. I shook my head and he poured himself some juice. “So, no luck, huh?”

“Just one interview at Castaway’s.”

He sipped. “Castaway’s?”

“Yup.”

“Hmmm.” He took another big chug. “Well, their fried fish is pretty good.”

Such riveting conversation. Man, I missed the good ol’ days of playing Legos and helping him with the yard. Our easy silences or long talks. It didn’t matter. I blinked and looked down.

“Buddy?” His voice was soft.

I glanced up.

“I—” He stopped, set his empty glass in the sink, the silence between us painful. “Good luck with that job search.” He pivoted and left, his face blank, though his eyes told me he wanted to say more.

Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking.

I tossed the paper and went to my room, scrambling for my keys to get outta there. I needed to breathe.

I ended up at the beach. At Lettie’s site, more specifically. For some reason, I felt the most at home there. This was always a safe spot for me. In many ways, I’d grown up there. Heck, maybe I was looking for a little more of that now.

I plopped down in the sand and thought about my dad. School. How in the world I was going to get a job. Melissa.

Our baby.

I swallowed and stared out at the crashing waves, my heart beating steadily along with them. How had something like this happened? Well . . . I knew the biology of how it happened. But, how had we let it happen?

Why couldn’t my dad just talk to me? Help me make sense of it all?

And Melissa. Sometimes I just wanted to shake some sense into her.

I closed my eyes to the sudden burning and wondered when the aching in my chest would go away. Probably never. And, though I’d never, ever admit it to Mel, the aching was only made worse because I’d been wondering if I’d ever love the ugly little peanut in her belly.

Because I wasn’t feeling a thing right now.

“Reed?”

My eyes snapped open as Melissa’s soft voice carried on the salty ocean breeze. Had I conjured her up with my sinful thoughts?

“Hey.” I sat up straighter. “What’re you doing here?”

She sat delicately next to me and squinted to take in my face. Probably reading all the emotion I was trying my best to hide. “I called your house and your mom said you rushed out. I figured this is where you’d be, so I rode my bike here. You all right?”

Jeez, she knew me so well. I gripped a handful of sand and let it slide through my fingers. “Yeah. Fine.”

She leaned her head on my shoulder and drew a heart in the sand. “Liar.”

We sat in silence for several minutes as the ocean continued to pound the shore like an angry lover and the gulls cawed relentlessly overhead. I’m not really sure when the tears came, but suddenly my face was cold from the breeze chilling them on my cheeks.

Melissa peered into my eyes. “I love you, Reed.”

“I know. I love you, too.” I dropped my head, afraid those words were still not enough for the road we were on.

She used her thumbs to wipe my cheekbones. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

“How can you know that?” I spouted, suddenly angry with her for her denial and for forcing us into keeping this baby without looking at any other options. Why wouldn’t she even consider . . . why wouldn’t she talk . . . why
couldn’t
we talk? I wanted to rage at her, at myself. We’d been stupid, basically ignoring this situation for weeks. Like a baby would disappear like the flu.

“I just do, okay? We have each other. We have our parents. We’re smart—”

“But I don’t even have a job, Mel!”

She blinked at me, her big eyes wounded. Maybe she wasn’t in as much denial as I thought. “I’ll go back to babysitting as soon as I can.” Her words were coated in apology.

I slumped back and swiped a hand down my face. “I know. It’s not that. It’s just . . .” My thoughts drifted off. I had nothing else to give right then.

I let the buffeting wind soothe me a bit, then I told her about my nightmare day of Want Ad runaround and my one and only interview.

She gripped my hand, the now familiar shuttered look masking something in her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so focused on . . . other stuff . . . we should’ve talked about this before.”

“It’s fine.” I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite translate.

She shrugged. “Well, did you try the movie theater in Lake Jackson? It might be better than Castaway’s.”

“The theater?”

“Yeah. My cousin works there and I think they might be hiring. Maybe you could work the projection booth or something. It’d beat dirty dishes, anyway. And I think they have a management program there, so maybe you could apply and move up eventually.”