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“You've gotto have his fuckingkid?” Jake demands.
Back at the hotel, I’m a mess as I fill Jake in on my meeting with Marissa. He’d wanted to go with me, but I insisted he stay away. I thought having him there would only complicate things, but now I’m not sure things could be any worse.
Jake gets to his feet, gaping at me in shock and anger. As I expected, my brother is fucking furious. I bite my lower lip, looking down at the hotel bedding scrunched beneath my hands, not sure what to say. This is so messed up. Why didn’t I just record him fucking me and then this would all be over?
“Yeah,” I tell him, my words barely above a whisper. “She wants there to be no way for him to talk his way out of it. Can't argue with DNA. The rape cry will hold up better if I'm pregnant and there’s proof that it's his. She's not going to pay out until I have that.”
I can tell Jake is getting more and more worked up, more and more pissed. He tends to do stupid things without thinking when he's this upset. I stand and reach out to him, putting my hands on his chest and making sure he meets my eyes.
“Hey, I can handle it,” I assure him. “It's just a little setback, that's all.” I smile, cupping his face. “I'm not actually being assaulted, Jake. He's not hurting me. Promise.”
In fact, I kind of enjoy it. It’s the messing with Sam’s life part that’s beginning to make me feel guilty. Not that I’ll dare admit that bit out loud.
“Yeah, I can see how incontrolyou are.” He glowers down at the marks on my neck, his eyes almost black with rage.
“That's different.” I roll my eyes, but my cheeks heat with embarrassment. There’s no point explaining what I’m feeling to Jake because he won’t get it. Hell, I’m not sure I even understand it myself. “Look, I can handle it,” I say again, making sure he sees the confidence in my eyes. It's a confidence I don't feel, but I've gotten good at pretending over the years. “Trust me. I’ve got this.”
He sighs, and nods, rubbing his hands over his face, before he pulls me into an embrace. I hug him back tightly, burying my face in his neck, before he draws back and walks to the other side of the hotel bed and picks up the remote for the television.
Laying down, I shift onto my side, focused on a spot on the fabric even though my mind is a million miles away. Terror has my heart beating double time and, despite my brave face for my brother, I’m not sure Icando this. Getting pregnant wasn’t part of the deal, and that snake, Marissa, has no right to ask me to do this. Is it even possible, given all the abuse I suffered as a child? Even if it is possible for me to fall pregnant, I don’twantto do it. I can’t get the look on Sam’s face as he watched his daughter sleep out of my head. If I get pregnant with his baby and abort it… God, that’ll break him all over again. It’ll kill him in ways I don’t know that he’ll come back from.
But he deserves it, right?
Sam’snotthe good guy here and he doesn’t deserve my sympathy.
He’s a monster in his own right, so why do I give a damn how he feels?
Jake flicks through the channels before settling on some mindless show as I burrow deeper into my thoughts, losing all concept of time or reality as the weight of what I have to do to protect myself rises in me. I don’t have a choice. If I want to keep myself and my brother safe, I have to get pregnant with Sam’s baby.
Only…
What if he didn’t know what was happening to me?
What if he made a mistake?
What if I’m wrong about all of this and he doesn’t deserve what’s happening to him?
Confusion worms through my thoughts, leaving behind holes in every excuse and defence I have. My hand balls in a fist, my nails biting into the skin, but I don’t feel the pain. When I release my fingers, I see angry red half-moons in my palm, seeping blood, but there’s still no ache. Not like the ache in my core after my rough encounter with Sam. An encounter I’d give almost anything to repeat. What would it be like for Sam to look at me with the same love, warmth, and adoration he looked at his daughter with? Not like that—I don’t want him to look at me like a daughter, but as a woman. A real, potential lover.
Why? Why do I care so damn much?
I lift my head as the TV drones on and the truth hits me like a speeding bullet. Reality shatters as a deep desire to be with Sam, for real, not pretend like I have been, wells up in me.
There’s no way I’m falling for Sam.
Maybe I’m losing my mind.
Maybe I lost it years ago.
My phone rings and I pull it out of my pocket. It’s my therapist. With a thumb, I pull down the top bar to glance at the date. Yep, I missed another session—one we had scheduled for today. I stare at the number, fully aware I’m not going to answer. When the ringing stops, I power down my phone and watch the screen go black, but not before Jake sees the missed call on the screen.
“Tell me you’re not skipping sessions.” His voice is flat, his eyes burning with disapproval so potent it cuts through my heart. “You know you can’t do that, Clo.”
“It’s none of your business,” I retort, my cheeks flushed, as I shove my phone into my pocket. The only thing I hate more than disappointing my brother is having him reprimand me.
“You’re skipping court-ordered mandatory sessions, so yes, itismy business.” He spits the words out like flames crackling from a fire. “One phone call from him and you’re back inside and I’m up shit creek without a paddle.”
“Great to see you’re so concerned about my mental wellbeing,” I deadpan.
