Alone in a city she didn’t know, carrying the child of a boy who may have a serious drug problem.
Oh, how far the mighty fall.
Her father would be gutted. This was every one of his warnings realized—booze, drugs, and sex. And the band boys.
How were they supposed to raise a kid when they were just kids themselves? Did Jameson even like kids?
This can’t be happening.
Jameson was on the brink. Daisy was headed to college in the fall. He’d be in Europe before they could breathe the same air again, and by the time he got back, she would already have had the baby. None of it fit the plan they’d outlined.
This can’t be happening.
She had no idea how to tell him. Layer the drugs on top, and the fear multiplied until it was the only thing left.
She slept like the dead and woke with a startle. The morning light was just breaking through. She stretched out her hand tothe other side of the bed only to find it empty. She didn’t recall Jameson ever coming back, but then again, she hadn’t recalled much after those tests revealed their results.
Ugh, the results.
She wanted to forget the whole night. In fact, she could’ve done without the last few weeks. A clean slate sounded perfect.
His shoes were by the door; last night’s clothes were draped over the chair. She tugged the hood of his sweatshirt over her head and went looking. She didn’t have to go far. He was on the balcony, elbows on the table, hands laced in his hair. Even at a distance, he looked distressed.
“Hey,” she said softly.
He didn’t answer. He let his hands fall and turned. The reason for his distress sat between them on the table: three pregnancy tests, lined up.
Daisy sucked in a breath. “Where did you find those?”
Jameson’s eyes dropped over her, to her face, then throat, then belly, and held. His expression shifted into something she’d never seen directed at her: revulsion.
“Say it,” he bit out.
She trembled, trying to gather air. He repeated, harder, “Say it, Daisy.”
“I… I’m pregnant.”
He stood so fast the chair scraped. He brushed past her and started pacing the suite’s entry, hands on his head. She’d never seen him so rattled; she was rattled enough for both of them.
“How did this happen?” he demanded. “We’re careful. We always use protection. How the hell—” He stopped. Miami rewound behind his eyes. She saw it land.
“But I stopped,” he said, stunned into anger. “I stopped before…”
She lifted a shoulder. “I guess not soon enough.”
He dropped his hands and came toward her. “How are you acting so—so calm about this?”
Calm? That lit her fuse. “I’ve been freaking out all night trying to figure out how to tell my boyfriend I’m carrying his child. I’ve puked. I’ve cried. I’m terrified. Calm is the last thing I am.”
He rubbed his eyes. “This can’t be happening. Not now. We can’t afford for this to get out.”
That hurt more than she would allow herself to admit. He wasn’t seeing her, just the band, the optics, the risk.
He grabbed his jacket. “I need a minute,” he muttered and walked out.
She thought about chasing him. Instead, she sank onto the couch and waited for him to return.Almost half an hour later, she heard the insertion of the key card and footsteps drawing closer to her.
He stood behind her when she turned. His head was low. Sorry lived deep in the lines of his expression. She stood and stepped into him, and he folded her in, mouth nuzzled in her hair. For the hundredth time in twelve hours, she cried. He didn’t hush her. He held on and let her soak his army-green tee. Daisy clenched onto him for dear life. It was as if he were her anchor, the only thing holding her steady at that moment.
