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“How long?”
Breathing heavily as she ran behind me, she answered, “Eleven weeks, maybe more.”
I almost fucking dropped Riley. My knees threatened to buckle as the words crashed into me.
“Eleven weeks! Eleven fucking weeks, Liss?” I didn't realise I'd stopped, spinning round to face her. Anguish claimed every part of me because I knew what I’d done. I’d practically forced myself on her without protection and left her pregnant and alone. My head fucking screamed. I couldn’t keep it in. “Fuuuuuck!”
Her chin lifted, defensive. “She didn't know. Not the entire time. She just found out.”
Heart slamming against my rib cage with the force of a fucking baseball bat, I glared down at her. But it wasn’t her I was mad at. And it definitely wasn’t Riley.
“How long has she known?”
She glanced away, tipping up a shoulder. “Just over a week.”
Over a week. My breath shot out in a rush. Awareness dawned like a lead weight, forcing my eyes closed as revulsion worked its way through me. “Your party...?”
“Yeah,” she confirmed, eyes hard, tone harder.
Riley had known she was pregnant with my baby when I'd told her we had no future together. When I’d kissed Raya in front of her face to really drive home the point. Pain like nothing I’d experienced before lanced through me, followed by a magnitude of shame that damn near buried me. My head fucking throbbed.
I’d regretted it, with every goddamn fibre of my being, the instant I’d done it. If I could undo any of the shit that had happened these past few months, I’d undo that. The look on Riley’s face would fucking haunt me for the rest of my days. When she’d walked away, I’d welcomed Leon’s fist. Took it like the prick I was. I’d destroyed her. Decimated her.
And all the while, she’d been carrying my baby. Bile hit the back of my throat.
And now... she was probably losing it.
Despair. Pure fucking despair—the kind I'd swore never to experience again. My feet were moving, pounding along the long corridors as the red patch grew wider, and blood trickled down Riley's thigh.
I knew I was already too late.
It turned out you could lose something, even when you thought you had nothing to lose. It hurt just the same. And apparently... you could love something you didn't even know existed. Didn’t even know was yours. Boxing your emotions, putting a lid on them an
d shoving them down to the deepest part of you, didn’t do shit. They were still there. What I felt for Riley wasn’t something I could control or prevent. And the baby...
I rubbed my palm over my chest.
Riley miscarried. Eleven weeks. I’d given no thought to babies. Not one. Never contemplated the idea. They’d been nowhere on my radar. If someone had asked me if kids were a part of my future, the answer would have been no, especially after Brett and O.
Given the choice a few hours ago... I wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Maybe it was because by the time I knew, it was too late. Maybe it was guilt, and that baby would have given me the chance to make up for what I’d done. Maybe it was the fact that it would have taken the choice out of my hands… I would never have been able to let Riley go if she had my baby. And maybe… I didn’t want to let her go. I never did. I knew it now. I knew just how much I needed her in my life, but she was so far fucking gone, I’d never be able to reach her. She might as well be untouchable.
Sitting in the dark on the worn sofa in my empty trailer, I couldn't clear my head of all the things that could have been. A tiny blonde haired, green-eyed baby girl or a boy with dark hair and eyes, cradled in Riley's arms. It was fucking stupid. Christ, I couldn't keep Riley in my life without destroying her. But I grieved the loss of that baby, my flesh and blood, the way I grieved everyone else I’d lost. And just like them, I wanted it back. I wanted another fucking chance.
When my lids squeezed tight, a bead of moisture escaped. I let my head fall back. Then I let them all fucking fall.
And then, I drowned my sorrows in a bottle, falling asleep where I sat and waking with that same feeling of despondency strapped to my chest. Showering quickly, I made my way across the park, my limbs like dead weights.
I rapped my knuckles lightly against the door twice and stepped back, head bowed.
It creaked open a few inches before Riley's mom peered around the edge. “Oh, Maddox. Hi.”
Amy Mason was the least motherly looking woman I'd met. She appeared barely older than her daughter with her tiny frame, wide green eyes, bouncy blonde hair, and breasts that were massively too big for her body. Riley's mom was a source of aggravation for her, but whenever she complained about something she’d done, it was with a glint in her eye, like she had to say it to get it off her chest but deep down it didn't really bother her. They might be polar opposites, and Amy might have some fucked up ideas on acceptable parenting, but they loved each other. And the pain and sadness in Amy's red-rimmed eyes proved that.
Shoulders hunched, I inclined my head toward the room beyond the door. “She in?” I winced at my words. Where else would she be, fucker? She had a miscarriage yesterday.
“Uh.” Amy hesitated, catching her lip in her teeth and looking over her shoulder into the dim interior. When her head came back, she looked surer and older—more like a mom—than I'd ever seen her before. The fierce protectiveness in her eyes surprised me. “I'll let you in, Maddox, because I know this affects you, too, and I think you two need to talk. But do or say anything to upset my daughter and I'll haul you out of here myself.”
My head nodded in agreement and I held her solemn gaze. “I won't.”
