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“Or love.” He piles on. “Or college, for that matter. You took a few classes and gave up. I won’t do that.”
Gave up? Nothing was that cut and dried. “You don’t understand, Jacob.”
“Then explain it to me. Explain why you couldn’t handle school. Why you kept quitting. Why you never date like normal people. Why you had me at fifteen but freak at the thought of me having a kid when I’m nearly eighteen. And while you’re at it, tell my why I don’t have a dad, and the real kicker, why I can’t even know who my father is!”
I press into the back of the patio chair. Each fired question piles itself on top of the one before it. Where did this all come from? Why now? I…no. No, I can’t explain it to him. None of it. “I’ve told you—”
“Yeah, I know what you’vetoldme.”
I don’t get how we’re suddenly on any of these topics, subjects I can’t handle. “I…I’m talking about how your life would change if you were married, Jacob. Everything would change. School is hard once you have two people to care for, making decisions with them in mind, and if a baby came along—”
His palm flies up like a stop sign between us. “Just stop, Mom. I’m done with your lies, and you know what? You may not be able to tell me the truth, but I don’t have the same problem. So here’s some truth for you: Therearegoing to be three of us. Reagan is having my baby. So you can deal with it—or not—I really don’t care at this point!”
My mouth hangs, I can feel it. Aside from that, I don’t feel anything. Don’t think. I stand and gape and wait for the concussions following the blast to subside.
“I’m spending the night at Reagan’s.” He spins, yanking the door open. “In fact, I’m moving in. Her parents invited me, and they’re actually happy for us.I’mwelcome attheirhouse any time.” He shoots a glance through the open door. “Stay here with him if you want. I bet he’ll be your boyfriend—and maybe it’ll do you some good. Maybe you can be normal for a change!”
Chapter 23
John
As the front door slams, I yank the back door off its hinges. “Hollie? Are you alright?”
Collapsed into one of my patio chairs, Hollie sobs, her face pressed into her hands.
I touch her sleeve. “Hey, you okay? He didn’t do anything, did he?” I didn’t think so, or I’d have been out here—but her huddled being jars me.
All I see is agony when she pulls her face from her hands, taking a second before shaking her head.
Anger makes my face ache. I thumb toward the house. “I can stop him?”
Another headshake before she crumples back into her palms, tugging my heart along.
I stare down. The world’s least people-person person is out of his depth.
Instinct takes over. “Hollie? Tell me you’re alright.”
I didn’t say they were great instincts. The wilted, weeping woman on my back patio is far from alright. After the lousy things her own son flung at her, how could she be?
I know the feeling. We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?
Wait. Not a pair. Two loosely connected persons bonded solely by one stupid kid’s juvenile, selfish mistakes. Yeah, I said stupid. Not Jacob Carpenter’s biggest fan at the moment.
“Hollie?” I crouch beside the chair. “Hey,” I soothe. She allows me to cradle my palm along her jaw. “A baby’s not the worst thing in the world.”
She pulls her face up. “You heard?”
I nod. The door was cracked, and the way the kid was tuned up, the neighbors might be gossiping right now.
Her teary eyes sluice over mine. Swallowing, she turns her cheek.
Yes, I heardallof it. The kid is an unappreciative, disrespectful little jerk. I gave him space to tell his mother in his own time, but it seems what I actually afforded him was enough rope to hang himself—with just enough left over to thrash his poor mother, not a drop of mercy for the woman who raised him. Who sleeps on a blasted sofa so his teenaged mess can have some privacy.
Like that’s what he needed.
Another heaving sob rattles precious Hollie. She bolts up, flapping her hands like women do sometimes when they cry, only there’s nothing comical about this. It’s more as if she’s trying to breathe.
Trying not to shatter into a million pieces.
