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I’ll never tell her.
“You’re a bastard, Jackson. You know that?” Cara cries from the bed. The pull inside of me wants me to go comfort Cara, but I don’t.
Because there’s nothing in me worth loving. Shit, I don’t even love myself.
“I fucking hate you!” She screams.
She throws her pillow at me.
Then her phone.
Then a water bottle.
Finally, she throws my fucking soul at me, ripped and burned to shreds.
“I wish I never fucking slept with you, Jackson. I wish Logan were alive, because at least he was a decent human being that cared about anything but himself! You’re nothing like him, and you never will be! Now. Get. Out!” She screeches.
By the end of her sentence, I’m already halfway out her door. I walk home with my head down, adjusting my stretched out shirt as her words play over and over in my head.
A fucking loop that doesn’t quit.
* * *
I sawher later that day when Easton and I were pounding each other’s faces. He must have seen me at some point because he came over later and instantly knew I was fucking Cara. It was a horrible day. From the moment I woke up, it was straight up hell. I’m at least glad that Easton came over and we squashed the shit between us. I haven’t spoken to Cara since that night. Until she told me she was pregnant at The Pit. That was four weeks ago.
“Yo, dude.” I look over at Easton. “Where’d you go?”
I shrug. “Just thinkin’.”
“So why you holin’ yourself up in here? Hiding from Cara?” He smirks at me.
“Fuck off.” I scowl at him as he passes the joint back to me.
“You talk to her at all since that night?”
I shake my head at him as I take a huge hit, holding it in my lungs and relishing the burn.
“Why the fuck not? That’syourkid, bro.”
“Maybe not.” I utter.
He rears back with wide eyes. “What the fuck you talking about? Who else would it be?”
“Logan.” A thick silence falls over the room.
Easton takes one more hit and stubs out the roach. “How the fuck would you ever know that if you never talked with her about it?”
I shake my head because the thought of even talking to her is apocalyptic. We clash so hard sometimes. We can be completely connected one second, and the next second we want to kill each other. It’s either one end of the spectrum or the other, never in the middle.
“Why not? I don’t think she would have said the baby is yours if the baby isn’t yours.”
“She might just want a baby dad.”Yes, I’m salty.
“Dude come on. You fucking know Cara better than that. Quit fucking around.”
I turn to him with a snarl, “No, bro. I’m not just going to bend down and fucking plead with her to talk to me. She dropped the bomb on me—no, wait—Rosedropped the fucking bomb. Was Cara even going to tell me? Who the hell knows?”
Easton leans back against the couch and sighs. “You know, Jackson, Rose busted out of the room in a fit this morning.”
