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I bet ten bucks she's tired of watching me pace and angrily cry out my frustrations. Ode won't admit it, but she wants me to handle this before I work myself up to stab someone. Again.
"So inspiring," I grumble, waltzing out the side door toward the parking lot, pulling my coat tighter around my body.
Cold air smacks me in the face as a few snowflakes float from the heavy clouds from above. Shaking off the shivers, I gasp for breath. If I thought Illinois summers were awful, meet Winter, her ugly, cold bitch of a sister, delivering several inches of snow today.
I shake my head, walking past my poor Bessy, and stop dead. Last time I checked, my poor Bes was covered in a thin layer of dust, yet she sits here, cleaned up, and… What the hell? My brows furrow at the small white note tucked beneath the windshield wiper, soaked from the weather. Picking it up, I carefully open it and nearly drop it on the ground.
“Stop fucking walking.”
That’s it. That’s all it says. Clear and decisive, yet unclear about who it’s from. Shivers roll down my spine when I dig my keys out and hop into my unlocked car. Every piece of trash is cleaned up—because I’m messy, so sue me—and the inside is wiped down. The smell of cleaning products wafts through the air. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when I put my key into the ignition. Holding my breath, I turn the key, and Bessy starts without a damn fight. Quickly, I press the buttons to heat instead of air conditioning, remembering the last time I drove Bessy was at the beginning of August. Now, here in December, I’ve finally gotten her going again. Well, someone did, at least. This time, I won’t question this gift from God. Instead, I’ll take Bessy out on her maiden voyage and hopefully find some answers.
The whole drive across town, my nerves flared to life again, slickening my cold palms. As I drive through the neighborhood entrance, I stare at the sign welcoming me to Lakeview Division. I raise my middle finger and salute the neighborhood the entire time I drive down the main road, turning off toward Callum’s house.
To my surprise, two vehicles sit in his driveway and have been since the snow started twenty minutes ago. Thankfully, it’s not coming down as hard when I stomp out of my car and walk onto the porch. Anger fuels my every move, and my heart pounds at the prospect of seeing them again. Maybe they’re inside, or perhaps they’re gone. Either way, I’m letting someone know I’m pregnant and moving on with my life—with or without them. I love them with my entire heart. More than I ever thought I could. They swooped in and stole every piece of me without even trying. I could repeatedly tell myself that I wouldn’t give them my heart or love or hold tight to my reservations. But the reality is I’m a sucker for love, and they pulled me into their orbit. But I can move on and restart. I'll get over them...well, eventually.
As I raise my hand to knock on the door, it opens. An embarrassing yelp leaves my lips when I jump back, and a tall, blonde woman carrying folders against her chest stumbles out.
“Sorry,” I say, shaking my head.
"Oh, that’s all right,” she says, wrinkling her nose like she has a bad taste in her mouth. Hell, maybe she swallowed a lemon the way her face morphs, and then she shakes it off. “Well, Gloria,” she says, turning toward another woman I recognize standing in the doorway. “I had better get going. I’ll get this listing up ASAP. Tell Callum that it’ll fetch a good price.” She offers Gloria a tight smile, side-eyeing me when she walks back to her fancy car and gets in with a huff, slamming the door.
I swallow hard at the implications of her words and stare at the ground. Callum is selling his house after all this time, completely wiping away the memory of his family. I don’t blame him for wanting to get rid of this place and start somewhere new. His family meant so much to him. But his place was a tomb filled with the ghosts of his past, constantly haunting him at every turn.
“Well, well, well,” Gloria practically sings with glee, looking down at me with a smirk. “I was wondering when you’d show up. They don’t have any money for you. So, you can go back to the slum you belong in,” Gloria sneers, sticking her nose in the air and waving a hand.
I try as hard as I can to hold back the eye roll, but it slips through, making her scoff again.
“I was wondering if I could speak to them?” I ask with so much hope I’m practically puking it out of every orifice on my body. I shove my hands into my coat pocket when her assessing eyes stare me up and down.
“Why don’t you come in,” she says, sweeping a hand, gesturing for me to follow her through the front door.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m walking into a giant trap, and my face is about to be on the back of milk cartons everywhere. With words like ‘Local Central City girl has gone missing after attempting to speak to her baby daddies and hasn’t been heard from since December.’ Shit. Ash may have plotted my demise from the moment he laid eyes on me, and now it’s all coming to fruition. They planned to use me and then dump my body in the backwoods. I shake my head, tossing away the crazy thoughts going through my overactive mind.
I reluctantly follow Gloria through the front door, instantly relaxing in the heat pouring through the vents. Looking around, my heart sinks into my ass, and more tears burn the backs of my eyes. Where the couch and big screen TV once sat is empty, void of any furniture and life. Everything within the home is gone, except for the woman staring at me with a victorious smile.
“As you can see, they ran from you, Central girl. They don’t want you anymore. They’re onto bigger and better things,” she says with glee, practically having an orgasm at the fact I’m here and they’re…
“They’re still in California?” I ask, raising a brow, knowing in my heart what the answer is.
Keep your shit together—no falling apart now.
Fuck. Every fear I had conjured over the past three weeks is coming true in vivid detail. They’re gone. They left me here. And they don’t fucking care about me like I thought they did. Was everything a fabrication for their benefit? Were all the things they said big, fat lies to capture my heart in their grasps and fucking crush it after they left? Who the hell does that? I don’t give a shit if they thought they saw something that wasn’t true. In my heart, I know Van kissed me against my will, and Callum saw it without waiting for an explanation. It’s like they saw what they wanted to see and didn’t hang around for an answer.
“Well, they did win the entire competition and got offered a record deal, not to mention the million dollars sitting pretty in their bank account, which you’ll have no part of. I won’t have you ruining their lives,” she says, turning her nose up again.
What is with this lady and her prejudice about where I come from? Didn’t she do the same thing and bag some rich guy who wasn’t who she thought he was? She’s really projecting herself onto me, and it’s really beginning to piss me the fuck off.
“Well, I need to speak to them. It’s pretty important,” I grumble, hating to admit I need them right now. All I want to do is fall into their arms but also punch their noses into their faces. Is that too much to ask?
“No,” she says, shrugging and giving me the stink eye. “There’s no way…”
“I’m pregnant, lady,” I say through clenched teeth. “And I’d appreciate speaking to the boys responsible. You know, all of them. So, can I please talk to them or what?” Okay, so that wasn’t as polite as I had intended it to be. But my bullshit meter is flying through the damn red on dangerous levels, and I’m about to explode if I don’t get any answers quickly.
Her face pales when her arms fall to her sides, and she shakes her head. “No… You can’t be…”
“Yeah, I can be. Not that I did it on purpose. So, can I talk to them? They won’t answer my calls,” I say in a small voice, trying to reel back in all the rage brewing beneath my flesh. If Gloria isn’t careful, I’ll turn green, hulk out in Callum’s empty living room, and destroy everything.
Gloria fumbles with the phone in her pocket, turning a sick shade of green. I take it back; maybe she’ll be the one to turn green instead of me. Hers, of course, will be from sickness instead of burning rage. Or, perhaps I spoke too soon. Her blue eyes meet mine in a frenzy when she brings the phone up to her ear and holds up a finger.
