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I know if the roles were reversed, I’d lose my shit. I wouldn’t be mad ather, per se, if she promised me nothing had happened with the guy, but I’d be furious. Even if he hadn’t touched her, he would have seen her in basically nothing. Slept in bed beside her. Gotten special moments that should only be mine.
Yeah, I’d lose my shit.
If this hypothetical happened, I would get my knuckles bloody and then drink a bottle of whiskey.
And I’m a fucking hypocrite, hoping she’ll be understanding. For considering keeping it from her.
Fury mixes with self-loathing, making me feel like a shaken bottle of something carbonated. Close to exploding.
Cassia’s world was just upended by her parents’ pending divorce. That’s why I haven’t told her about my mom, and that had nothing to do withus.
This is the last thing I want to burden her with—another mistake of mine she has to suffer because of.
“If nothing happened, why do I need to tell her?” I ask.
“If nothing happened, why did you tell me?”
Yeah, Henry was definitely the wrong person to confide in about this.
“Tell who what?” Robby strolls into the kitchen, tugging a sweatshirt on. He almost collides with the wall, changing course at the last second to grab a banana from the bunch by the fridge.
“Holden woke up in bed with a naked chick.” Henry spills, unhelpfully.
Robby’s mouth falls open, giving me a disgusting view of half-chewed fruit. He swallows quickly. “Wait. You and Cassia broke up? When? What did I miss?”
“We did not break up.”
“You cheated?” Robby raises both eyebrows, then opens the fridge. “You’re a fucking idiot, Adams. She’s smoking hot and she’s loyal. I hit on her every time I see her, and she’s never flirted back. Not once. Thatneverhappens.”
“I did not cheat,” I grit out.
My headache is growing worse by the minute. I thought stating the situation out loud would help. That by spelling out what happened, it would be easier to see everything rationally. Instead, more panic is splintering my chest as Henry and Robby exchange a loaded look.
Expressions that tell me Ihaveto tell her, no matter how terrible the innocent situation might sound. No matter how much I don’t want to.
“I’m going to the gym,” I say, heading for the stairs.
Before I talk to her, I need to think through exactly what I’m going to say. Pummel a punching bag until I’m less anxious and angry than I feel right now.
* * *
I pull in a deep breath and then knock on her door.
A few seconds later, it opens.
“Sydney?”
Dread shifts to surprise.
My sister takes a step back from the door. “You’re not Nova.”
“You’re not in Pembrooke.” I step inside the apartment, closing the door behind me and following Sydney into the kitchen. “Is everything okay…?”
Speaking becomes challenging as my eyes snag on the plastic sticks in a clear baggie that’s sitting on the counter.
My vision tunnels to those pregnancy tests.
Thepositivepregnancy tests.
