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I felt it in the days right after my dad was killed. I did nothing but hide in my room, afraid that whoever got him would come for me next. I was just a dumb-ass kid, with no life skills or coping mechanisms, and the only person I could turn to couldn’t even look at me without crying and drowning herself in a bottle. One day she cried herself right out of the house and never came back.
I felt it again as I held a newborn Rose in my arms; a tiny, screaming, squirming bundle of humanity that I had no idea what to do with or how to care for. Her cries pierced my ears and ripped my heart. The rest of me went numb as Jolene railed and cursed, in one of her typical withdrawal rages, scattering everything within her reach across the room or on the floor, telling me it’s my fault, that I did this to her, and she couldn’t stand it another minute.
“You made this baby, you deal with it!” she’d screamed, slamming the door and disappearing from our crummy apartment, from my life, from our daughter’s life.
I’d never felt so lost, so betrayed, or so guilty. It was my fault—I’m the prick that got her pregnant after all. Guilty that I’d brought this perfect, beautiful, little person into the world with no more thought than I’d given to wearing a condom—which was none. No thought to the quality of life I could provide for her. But I was all she had now. Scared as I was, I had to make it work, and I did. I felt proud of that.
And now, the despicable creature that’s done nothing more for Rose than give birth to her has the gall to barge back in, and demand to see the progeny she abandoned so callously. It sets my teeth on edge and my guts on fire, and from what I see, there is no indication that she is in any better shape to be a mother now than she ever was. She can’t be trusted.
There’s no room in my life for anyone but Rose. It’s just the way it has to be. Buying this house was supposed to be a new start for us, but it’s not turning out that way. I’ve hurt Quinn, betrayed her father, and somehow put us within Jolene’s poisoned reach. It wasn’t what I’d set out to do.
As disrupting as a move will be, it might be best to start looking for another place, while Rose is still a preschooler. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe. Maybe look into getting a live-in nanny. And make sure she’s as unattractive as possible.
After I change and get ready to pick up Rose from day care, I pull out my cell phone and punch the number for my realtor’s office.
Chapter Eleven
Quinn
Merry Go Round Breakdown
“I just don’t feel like going out, Rochelle. You know we have mid-terms to study for.”
“Oh, quit being such a bookworm for once. I haven’t seen you in forever, and you need to get out. Besides, you still haven’t told me how the ‘babysitting’ job went. I need deets, girl—and you need some fun. I want to hear all the gory details while on top of the Ferris wheel where the guys won’t eavesdrop.”
Ugh. The thought of swinging upward in a metal bucket at the carnival makes me heave. Rochelle knows I never liked carnival rides. How does she expect me to think of this as fun? She just wants to get me alone and pump me for information. And at the same time try to fix me up with her boyfriend Alex’s buddy that’s just blown into town for the weekend. Neither one appeals to me right now.
“I’ll pass on the Ferris wheel, thanks,” I say, my stomach already twitching in alarm.
“Oh, all right. We’ll find somewhere to dish out of earshot. Trent is really stoked about meeting you, though. Alex told him what a stunner you are.”
“Great. Thanks. Just what I need. Another dude who thinks my only credentials are my tits and ass. Good work, Roch. Can’t we go somewhere else besides the amusement park?”
“No! You know this mobile carnival is a fundraiser for the ASU grad class. We have to support it. And your tits and ass need a break from the books just as much as the rest of you. We’ll let the boys blow a bunch of money trying to win us giant stuffed bears, what do you say?”
Against my better judgment, I say yes. I’ve already studied my ass off, trying to distract myself from the real world, and probably couldn’t cram one more stat or research paper into my memory if I tried.
“Great!” Rochelle says. “We’ll pick you up at six, just when the lights come on. And wear something sexy for a change, will you? I don’t want Trent to see you in your natural habitat of baggy sweats and varsity hoodies.”
With a sigh, I hang up on Rochelle. It couldn’t hurt to have a change of scenery. Whenever I do feign to glance out my window all I see is the quiet house and empty yard next door. I’ve given up hoping to catch a glimpse of Rose, or Logan. They seem to have shut themselves off from everything, especially me.
It’s November, which makes it over two months that I’ve kn
own Logan, but also two weeks since I saw him last. And it’s been two weeks of hell. No matter how much I try to force him out of my mind, one thing makes it impossible. I check my computer calendar again, just to make sure I haven’t miscounted. And just like the last three times I checked… I haven’t.
I’m late.
Really late.
When I missed my October period I didn’t think much of it; with the stress of a new school year and the pressures of my Master’s program that can happen. But with November nearly gone and still no period, I realize I have a problem on my hands. My unruly stomach should have tipped me off, but in my distress over Logan, I thought it was just nerves.
Waiting any longer won’t solve anything, so I decide to take the trip to the drugstore that I’ve been putting off. I have to know. And if a pregnancy test shows positive, I have to take responsibility. I have no one to blame but myself. We used condoms when we could, but there were so many times where things were just spontaneous. Logan and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other for long, no matter where we went.
I feel guilty enough for being so careless, but it’s not the possibility of being pregnant that scares me or bothers me the most. It’s that my father, the doctor, the one who promoted family planning to all his patients, will be so disappointed in me.
***
“Loosen up, will you?” Rochelle almost snarls in my ear. “God, you’re stiff as an icicle. Trent thinks he might get frostbite if he even tries to hold your hand.”
