Page 20 of Kicking Up Dust

“I’m sorry. I swear, I swear I was on birth control and we used a condom and I put copies of my medical records in there, proving that I was on birth control when we met, but I guess it’s not 100% accurate, though it’s like… almost 100% accurate and between that and the condom, you’d think that would be almost 200% accurate, right? Like, there’s gotta be some sort of… freaky universal intervention going on here and I don’t believe in God, but jeez, this made a good argument, right?”

“What?” Colt finally opens the folder and honestly, his confusion makes sense considering I haven’t actually said the words yet, but I guess the sonogram on top says everything he needs to hear because he immediately pales.

“You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to be!” I’m quick to tell him, picking at the skin around my nails as I watch his face. “Genuinely, I swear, I’m not after your money—I don’t even know if you have money! God, that sounded like an insult, I didn’t mean it as an insult, I just meant I’m not some gold digger, okay? I Googled it and I can just leave the father’s name blank on the birth certificate, you know? And then, like, she won’t have a father… legally speaking, and I swear I won’t go after you for child support. Not ever. I just wanted you to know, but like, no pressure, okay? If you don’t want⁠—”

“You’re pregnant?” he interrupts me, looking up. His eyes glance down at my hoodie-covered stomach, like he’s trying to picture the bump beneath it, but I still don’t take the jacket off.

“Yeah,” I whisper, more terrified than I’ve ever been, though that seems to be a very common occurrence the past few months.

His phone rings, so shrill it makes both of us jump and he swears, pushing aside the folder in his lap. “I’m coming,” he snaps into the phone, tossing it back onto the bed. I start gathering the folder and the papers that spilled out of it, but he snatches the sonogram again.

“I’m sorry, I just—well, I figured you should know? I’m just gonna go⁠—”

“Like hell you are,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or not. His voice has gone funny. I’ve learned to keep my head down to avoid situations I don’t want to be in, so that’s what I do, continuing to put all the papers back into the folder.

“There’s also a signed paper in here basically stating I won’t go after child support or put your name on the birth certificate and, well, to be honest, I don’t think it’s legally binding but the intent is there. I was trying to think of anything I could do to make you believe that I’m not trying to go after your money or trying to force you into anything⁠—”

“Blair—”

“And I swear to you, I was on birth control. I truly don’t know how this happened, but I included that in there… I’ve already told you that though, I think. Oh! And of course, proof that I’m actually pregnant, but obviously there’s no way for me to prove that you’re the father until after the baby’s born and we can do a DNA test, but you are the father. I meant it when I said I don’t sleep around much and⁠—”

“Blair, stop it,” Colt says, a bit more stern, taking me by the shoulders and pulling me into a hug. I think he must be able to feel the slight bump of my stomach against his because his embrace loosens a bit, his other hand coming up to pull my hair back from my face. “I believe you.”

I didn’t realize how close I’d been to crying until he’s provided me with a nice warm chest to do it against and the words I’ve needed to hear since I was thirteen. But then his phone rings again and with another curse, the hug is cut short.

“Fuck, I wish I could cancel this shit,” he swears, pulling back again.

I wipe my eyes, thankful I’d opted for waterproof mascara. “Sorry, I can go.”

“No!” he says quickly, a bit too loud. It makes me jolt, and he softens immediately. “No, just—come with me to the arena and I’ll make some excuse with my manager to leave right after my ride. I’ve got… we’ve got a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“You don’t have to be involved if you don’t want to be. It wasn’t my intention to⁠—”

“I wanna be, mama,” he says, squeezing my hand.

My stomach flips.

Well, hell.

TWELVE

COLT

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I’m gonna be a daddy.

Blair’s having a baby. My baby.

It’s all I can think about as Cade tries to rip me a new one, my ass barely making it into my chute before it’s time for my ride to start.

“Make sure Blair stays put,” I tell him as I toss my hat his way, replacing it with my helmet.

“What? Whittaker, you’re driving me up a wall lately, you know that? Between your⁠—”

“I ain’t got time for your bullshitting, McAllister. Keep the other guys away from her and make sure no one bumps into her or anything.”

“Who—”