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God help me, I was waiting for Rocco to come home so I could tell him. At three months, it was only a matter of time until I began to show. The longer I waited, the more furious Rocco would be that I hid it from him. Not that he wasn't going to be furious either way. He was. Big time. But I was tired of secrets, and, after everything Rocco sacrificed to raise me, he didn’t deserve to be lied to.
I physically winced from the shock of pain that gripped my heart. I was such a hypocrite. Here I was thinking Rocco deserved to know I was pregnant, when I couldn't bring myself to tell the father, who actually needed to know. Seb gave me the perfect opportunity to tell him when he approached me on the sidewalk a week or two back. As I sat across from Seb at that little café, and I tried to keep him from seeing my hands shake and myself from, god forbid, projectile vomiting, I’d gone back and forth a dozen times, waffling on whether or not to just blurt it out.
Doing it in public, with witnesses, wasn’t really fair to Seb. Plus, in the end, I couldn’t do it. I rationalized it as needing to be one hundred percent certain of the pregnancy first, and made a promise to myself that after the first doctor’s appointment, I would ask Seb to meet again. That was two weeks ago. Piper supported my decision to not tell him about the pregnancy, but I knew she thought it was a mistake. She wasn’t wrong. If Rocco got a woman pregnant, and the woman didn't tell him, I would be furious. I would rant and rail, and curse the woman from Atlanta to DC and back, insisting Rocco deserved the opportunity to know he had a child.
Like I said, hypocrite.
The deadbolt clicked and my heart leapt into my throat. I hurried to sit before Rocco entered. If I didn't, I was afraid I might pass out from nerves, and if I hit the deck, Rocco would take me to the nearest hospital. If that happened, an emergency room doctor would be the one who told Rocco about the baby while I lay blissfully unconscious. Then my brother would apply a beat down to an innocent doctor and probably end up in jail. That particular sequence of events wasn’t on my bucket list, so best to avoid it altogether.
“Hey, Ky,” Rocco said as he shrugged out of his wool overcoat and loosened his tie. The Comets just ended a five-game road trip that kept my brother out of town for ten days. An entire week and a half without Rocco gave me plenty of time to decide how to break the news. I had the whole speech planned out. Face to face with Rocco, I forgot every last word. “Kylie?” Rocco’s brow crinkled. “Are you okay?”
“Umm, oh, yeah.” I couldn’t look my brother in the eye.
“What's wrong?” The couch sank as Rocco sat next to me and placed a heavy hand on my knee. My chest constricted and my eyes stung. I forced myself to look at Rocco. His expression was so worried I wanted to cry from guilt. Stupid hormones. “Kylie? You're scaring me.”
It was time. The moment arrived to let my brother down. To fall from the pedestal he put me on and bounce off of every single sharp-edged step on the way down. And I was seriously regretting telling Piper I could do it alone.
“I, umm…” I licked my lips and refrained from plucking at my sweaty tee. “I-I have something to tell you and you're, uh, not gonna like it.”
Rocco frowned but gave my knee a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Ky. It can't be that bad.” When I didn’t speak, his voice pitched up. “Spit it out. I’m kind of freaking out here.”
I took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I, uh, so I need to tell you… I found out…”
“Kylie, I'm getting really fucking scared. Just tell me.”
Oh Jesus. I can’t do it.
The whites of Rocco's eyes showed and his complexion drained of blood. All I was doing was screwing up and making everything worse. Better to just rip it off quick. Like Rocco used to do when I had a Band-Aid. He’d hold my hand, look at me, and say, “On the count of three. One…” Then he’d yank it off before three, before I tensed and made it hurt more than necessary. It was my turn to return the favor.
“I’m pregnant.” Once I got the words out, I cringed and squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for Rocco to explode.
I waited. And waited. And… nothing. I cracked one eye open and chanced a peek. Rocco hadn't moved. Not an inch. In fact, I wasn't sure if he was breathing. He looked like a statute. If I didn’t see him blink, I’d wonder if he had turned to stone.
“Rocco?”
I stuck out a finger to poke his side when he exhaled loudly. His mouth worked for a moment, opening and closing a few times before he came up with a response, and even that wasn't much.
“Pregnant?” His voice cracked on a high note.
Heat flooded my face and I glanced away. “Yeah, pregnant.”
I couldn’t see it, but he shifted as little bit more life flowed back into my brother. “You're… pregnant?”
Oh my god! How many times was he going to make me say it?
“That's what I said, Rocco.”
The ache in my chest grew more painful and I fought back tears. I had expected a fight. Expected there to be yelling and screaming and f
or accusations to be slung recklessly back and forth. What I didn't expect was for my brother to turn into some detached, empty shell who wore Rocco’s skin like a costume. "Aren't you going to say something?" This time, it was my voice that cracked, and it felt like my heart was going to crack too. For letting Rocco down so spectacularly.
“You're pregnant. My little sister is pregnant.” Any emotion was gone, his tone as dry as the Sahara at high noon.
I watched as gears the turned and Rocco processed the flaming dumpster I dragged into the room. As he worked through each step, the Rocco-costume receded and my brother became more and more recognizable. When his neck flushed and the muscles of his jaw began to tick, I knew my initial prediction of Rocco’s fury was indeed correct. I scooted over on the couch and put a bit of space between us.
Mount Saint Rocco was going to erupt.
“Someone got my little sister pregnant,” he muttered. “Some bastard stuck his filthy dick in my sister and knocked her up.” Rocco spoke to himself as if I wasn’t there, his way of dealing with a bevy of conflicting emotions. Once he picked one—and from the increasing venom in his voice I was pretty sure I knew which emotion the roulette wheel would land on—well, that's when the fun would begin.
