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Each hit those fuckers delivered last night felt equal parts good and painful. Anything was better than the feeling tearing me up inside when I thought about my father’s cheating hands all over Sophie.
And that look on my mother’s face when she heard it all.
I had to come out and get the shit kicked out of me last night. Because if I’d been able to walk, then Sophie would have been right.
I would have killed my father.
And no matter how great of a lawyer she is, even she wouldn’t have been able to get me off.
The only thing worse to me than the thought that she’s having his baby is the thought that if I kill him, I won’t be there with her to have mine.Bothof them. Because they are both mine, regardless of what a DNA test says. And I’ll love them both the same no matter what.
Because whatever my asshole father does, that’s all I’ve ever wanted.
To be a better father than him.
Logan and Dax maneuver me to Tanner’s car where I’m unceremoniously shoved into the backseat with my legs hanging out.
“Those aren’t going in.” Tanner points to my vomit-covered feet.
“Don’t you get like baby shit and puke in your car all the time?” Logan’s brow creases as the three of them stare at me sprawled out on the backseat, arms crossed as they decide what to do with me.
“Ruby’s in nappies. And she’s still exclusively breastfed. Her puke doesn’t reek like this.”
“Sure doesn’t,” Logan agrees, covering his mouth as he retches again.
“Breastfed,” I murmur. “Pregnancy breasts… Fucking magnificent.”
My eyes must glaze over because Tanner leans into the car and something cold hits my face, making me splutter.
“Here.” He hands me the sippy cup of water he’s just sprayed me with. “Drink this.”
I take the bright green plastic, holding it by the two matching handles as I take a deep gulp.
“Fuck me, that’s good,” I moan.
Tanner snorts and then I hear Logan protesting about something. The next minute something wet is encasing my foot.
I peel my shoulders up off the backseat, craning to see my feet. Logan’s busy cleaning them with a baby wipe as Tanner shakes his head and Dax watches on with a smirk.
When he’s done, he shoves my legs into the car.
“Good job, Dada,” Tanner says as he climbs into the driver’s seat and Logan joins him in the front.
“Shut it,” Logan grumbles. “Anything to not have to sit in the back with little Ms. Vomit.”
As if on cue, my stomach groans and Logan’s eyes narrow warily.
Dax sinks into the seat next to me, hoisting me up into a sitting position and doing up my belt.
“Here.” He thrusts a bright yellow bowl into my hands. “You need to hurl again, you do it in that.”
I frown at the weird plastic ring in my hands. I thought it was a bowl, but the bottom is made up of a plastic bag.
Tanner’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “It’s a travel potty.”
I stare at the thing, noticing the yellow cartoon duck on it. Then I peer inside it, praying—
“It’s clean,” Tanner clips. “Let’s try and keep it that way.”
