Page 137 of In Your Wake

How am I here again, even thinking of keeping another secret from Mitch? I remember all too vividly what happened the last time I did something like this. The guilt of lying to Mitch may have subsided, but it still lies in the hidden corners of my mind. And now, when I think of not telling him the news, it reemerges.

How come I can be honest with everyone else, but when it comes to Mitch, it fills me with anxiety?

I blow out a long exhale. “I’ll tell him. I will. I just need to find the best time.”

“There might never be a best time.” Zayne takes my hand. “Until then, what can I do?”

“Stay here with me?”

“Of course.”

After a few minutes of sitting quietly in my living room, staring at the wall, I straighten up. “Okay, it’s your turn. I told you mine…”

He laughs, propping his feet on the table. “So, I met this guy.”

All too interested in distractions from the insane developments in my life, I lean back against the armrest and drop my feet into Zayne’s lap.

“I don’t know who he is,” he explains, rubbing my feet, “but he’s stunning. And his mouth? Unreal.”

I giggle. “Nice. Where did you meet?”

In lively detail that keeps me captivated, he tells me about meeting a dark-haired man with light eyes during the Oakwhite Shamble party, an annual tradition held at the end of summer. Kids hang out on an old abandoned farm with a barn that’s, well, in shambles. The parties are renowned for late-night hookups in the shadows of the nearby woods, and I still vividly remember losing my virginity at one of them.

As I listen to Zayne gush about this stranger in the dark, my issues seem to fade into the background. The weight on my shoulders lightens, if only a little.

“Wait. So, the guy gave you head, but you didn’t find out his name?” I ask.

“You know how these things go. No one’s there to make lifelong connections,” he replies with a playful eye roll.

I’m stunned at his casualness. “I’m not saying you become besties with the guy, but at least get his name!”

“We were way too busy to talk. And like I said, his mouth was…” Zayne bites his lip as if he still isn’t over how good it was.

“Damn,” I say with a laugh.

“He left pretty quickly after…” He waves a hand around. “I looked for him, but he vanished. Haven’t seen him around town, either. He disappeared like some sort of—”

“Ghost-dick-sucker?” I tease.

Annoyed, he pinches my toe, but laughs. “Let’s not call him that.”

“Well, I’d love to call him by his name, but…”

Zayne smiles. “Max, he’s the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen. Oh, and he has these tattoos on his fingers, like right below his knuckles.”

“Of course, that’s what you noticed,” I reply. A moment goes by, and my mood turns sour again. “Look at us. Used goods.”

“We are not used goods.”

“Sure we aren’t.”

Since taking the pregnancy test a few days ago, I haven’t been able to think of anything except the life growing inside of me and the man who helped me create it. Without doubt I need to tell Mitch.

But I’m worried he won’t take it well. After all, Mitchell left—again—for the sport that runs in his blood. I can’t force this major thing on him. I don’t want my child to grow up with a father who resents him and isn’t fully invested.

My hands float down to my flat tummy, and I see the empathy fill Zayne’s soft eyes.

“We’ll get through this,” he reminds me, his words meant to comfort, but they only make me feel worse. Remind me that I’m alone.