Page 46 of Pucked Around and Found Out

“I wasn't going to⁠—”

“Bullshit.” I push to my feet, running my hands through my wet hair, ignoring my raging hard-on. “You want me to acknowledge it. Want me to care about that... thing growing inside you.”

She flinches at the word thing, good. She should.

“It's not a thing,” she says quietly, pushing herself up to sit. “It's a baby. Our baby.”

“No.” The word comes out sharp, final. “It's a mistake. A consequence. Nothing more.”

“You don't fucking mean that⁠—”

“Don't tell me what I fucking mean!” I roar, and she goes still. “You think carrying my kid changes anything between us? You think it makes you special? Makes you matter?”

The tears gathering in her eyes should make me feel victorious. Should satisfy the beast inside me that feeds on her pain.

“I know what you're doing,” she says, her voice shaking but steady. “You're trying to push me away. Trying to make me hate you so you don't have to feel anything.”

“I don't feel anything,” I lie. “Except disgust. You're a Kellar. Your brother killed my sister. And now you're trying to trap me with⁠—”

“I'm not trying to trap you!” She scrambles to her feet, fury replacing the hurt in her eyes. “I didn't plan this! I didn't want this! But it's happening, Xaden, whether you acknowledge it or not!”

“Then get rid of it.”

The words hang in the air between us like a death sentence.

Toren goes completely pale. “What?”

“You heard me.” I force myself to look her in the eyes, to deliver the cruelty with precision. “Get rid of it. I don't want it. I'll never want it. Every time I'd look at that kid, all I'd see is the cunt who murdered my family.”

She punches me so hard my head snaps to the side.

For a moment, we just stand there, her chest heaving with rage and grief, me tasting blood from where my teeth cut the inside of my cheek.

“You're a fucking coward,” she hisses, the disappointment in her voice cuts deeper than any blade. “You hide behind your anger and your revenge because you're too afraid to admit that you might actually care about something again.”

“Don't—”

“Shut up.” Now it's her turn to cut me off. “I'm done listening to your bullshit. You want to pretend you're this monster who feels nothing? Fine. Play your part. But don't you dare try to make me believe it.”

She stalks past me toward where our clothes are discarded on the beach.

I watch her go, every instinct screaming at me to stop her, to take it back, to admit that I'm lying through my teeth.

But I don't.

Because if I acknowledge the baby—if I let myself care about the life growing inside her—then I have to acknowledge that I care about her.

And I can't afford that weakness.

Not when there's still so much blood to spill.

Not when Masen is still alive and breathing somewhere, unpunished for what he did.

Not when admitting I care about Toren Kellar means betraying everything I've fought for over the past two years.

The ultrasound image burns like fire in my jeans pocket, a constant reminder of what I'm denying.

But I shove it down. Lock it away. Refuse to let it mean anything.