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I bite on my lip, staring out the window at the mountains in the distance. “I thought you guys were on my side,” I state, raising my voice.
“We are, baby,” Mom says, then she turns to my father. “Norm, tell her.”
“Acie, you have a tendency to bolt when things get rough,” he mutters and lays both hands on my shoulders.
“I know, Dad.” I hate it when he’s telling the truth. “Snowboard guy and I are cut from the same cloth when you look at it like that.”
“Lay it out for him. Your mom did, and this is how you and Layne came into this world. Sometimes you need to cut through the bullshit to get to the good part,” he tells me, sitting down on the barstool next to my brother.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“I think you might have that talk sooner rather than later,” Layne says, pointing to the driveway where Jesse skids to a halt on his big black Harley. He runs up to the house and bangs his fist against the front door.
Dad and Layne are on their feet before I can blink.
“Guys, chill, damn it,” I yell.
My father opens the door, and Jesse’s hard eyes find mine, even with me half hidden behind my brother and father crowding the doorway.
Tension radiates from his body. “Sir, can I talk to her?” he asks, sounding determined. “Can I talk to you?” Jesse asks me when our eyes meet, and he swears under his breath.
Dad points a finger in his face. “You better not fuck this up, son,” he warns, clearing the path for me.
Once outside, I close the door in their faces. We don’t need an audience for this, although I can put money on them eavesdropping the shit out of this conversation.
Jesse starts to pace with an angry scowl on his face. “When did you find out?” He grabs the side of his ribs.
“I found out two weeks ago.” I try to keep my voice even, but I can hear the angry rasp.
“Two weeks ago,” he bellows, pulling at his hair. “But how, when?”
“I don’t know the exact date,” I tell him, although I can’t hide the strain in my voice.
“Fuck me,” he swears. He can’t even look me in the eye. “That’s why you didn’t come to the Olympics. You thought it would throw me off my game. Is that it?”
I can only nod.
“You don’t have to worry, Jesse,” I tell him, my voice calm.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, staring at me with his mouth half open. He shakes his head, hair falling in front of his eyes.
“Like I said before, I’m okay,” I say, motioning to the mansion. “I’ve got my own place, a job, and money, so we’re good.” I shrug, staring at his Harley.
He gets right in my face. “We are not good,” he says through gritted teeth. “Far from it, Lemmy.”
I cringe when he calls me by my full name. “Fuck you, snowboard guy,” I counter, walking down the stone steps toward my truck parked next to his bike.
The door opens, and my dad yells, “You better fix this, son, or else.”
“Dad,” I bite out.
“Let me take care of this.” Mom grabs his hands, pulls him back inside, and gives me a reassuring smile before she closes the door again.
“They all know?” Jesse asks, sounding nervous, his angry scowl never faltering.
“Of course, I told my family. Look at me. They figured it out on their own,” I say, showing him my body.
He keeps staring at my stomach, the fear in his eyes is unmistakable. “Ace, I—” he starts but chokes on his words.
“Just go, Jesse, I know you want to,” I demand, getting in his face.
“Is that really what you want me to do?”
“Yes,” I bite out, but the moment the words leave my lips, I know I’m making a big mistake.
“You got it, babe, I’ll fucking go, but this is far from over,” he promises, then slips his helmet over his head, gets on his bike, revs his engine, and drives away.
“Fuck,” I growl, watching him speed down the driveway and out of sight. I really fucked it up this time.
