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“Can I help you with something?” he asked, and I don’t know if it was the question orhimasking it that had me breaking down all over again.
A tissue appeared from his outstretched hand, and I accepted it without a word, wiping at my face. “You can’t…” I tucked my hair behind my ears in an attempt to look presentable. “I know you’re going to use this against me somehow, but I—”
“You think I would usethisagainst you?” When I turned to meet his furious gaze, he practically spat his next words at me. “I came to check on you. I was worried. You could just say thanks but no thanks. Jesus.” He combed his hand through his hair. “You think I’m that much of an asshole that I’d somehow fucking blackmail you? You really are a piece of work.”
More tears sprung to my eyes at how much offense he took at my accusation. We were enemies, and I didn’t know what to do with this sudden kindness. “I’m sorry,” I said after a while. “I’m…I’m having a hard time right now.”
“No shit.” He let out a sigh of someone fighting all of their instincts to run. “What are you having a hard time with?”
I didn’t want to admit to my struggle. He’d already witnessed my mess. I couldn’t tell him my mistake.
He leaned his arm on my open window, drops of rain splattering on the interior of my car. “You’re going to tell me what’s going on, or you’re not leaving here.”
“You can’t make me stay.”
He thrust his hand out and removed my keys from the ignition and pocketed them before I even took my next breath.
“Try again,” he said, and I glared at him.
“Give me my keys. I need to go.”
“Go where?”
“A place.”
He raised one thick light-brown eyebrow. “For an attorney, you’re terrible at being cross-examined.”
“Don’t do this right now,” I whimpered, my chin trembling again. I pressed my fist against it to make it stop.
He nudged my hand away and settled two fingers against my jaw, urging me to face him. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head.
“Are you in trouble?”
I rolled my lips together to keep from frowning.
“I can help you,” he said.
“You can’t.”
“Tell me, and we’ll figure it out.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can’t, or don’t want to?” he asked, and I attempted to move away, but he didn’t let me, smoothing his hand along my cheek. “What is it?”
I hadn’t told anyone I was pregnant. Not my sister, because she was dealing with enough. Not my grandmother, because I didn’t want to disappoint her. Certainly not my mother, because we weren’t close enough for that sort of thing. And I didn’t really have friends. Acquaintances, sure, but no one I’d consider admitting this to.
So, the only defense I could come up with for the hastily spilled confession was temporary insanity due to the unwavering blue of his eyes that seemed to reach into my chest and pull the words out of my throat.
“I’m pregnant.”
He momentarily tightened his fingers along my jaw before dropping them to curl around the open window. He didn’t respond, merely stared at me, and the rest tumbled out.
“I’m going to get an abortion, and I’m so embarrassed and ashamed, I haven’t been able to bring myself to tell anyone. That’s why I’ve been crying, because I can’t stop thinking about how stupid I was. I can’t believe I got myself into this situation, and now I’m sitting out here feeling bad for myself and professing all my secrets to the one person I hate.” I lifted my chin as high as possible, pretending I hadn’t just cut myself open at his feet, offering him a stab at my vital organs, and held my palm up. “That’s why I need to have my keys back. I have an appointment.”
His eyes narrowed, his bearded jaw moving as if measuring his words, and I prepared myself for some dig or long-winded explanation of how feminism and career-minded women were ruining society. I absolutely was not prepared for his one-word answer.
