AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll contact them. They blocked your number for a reason,” she snaps, turning her back to me, and waltzes into the kitchen.
Against my better judgment, I stand in the middle of the room, taking it all in. They blocked my number? That explains the lack of phone calls and texts. They must have done it the moment Callum returned with evidence of my infidelity—or lack thereof. At this point, I’d rather pounce on Gloria, drag the phone away from her ear, and give those assfaces a piece of my mind, but I refrain. I have manners—sometimes.
“Yes, she says she’s pregnant and would like to speak to you,” she murmurs into the phone, side-eyeing me as I stare daggers through her skull. “Of course,” she says with a few head nods and then hangs up the phone, placing it in her pocket. Gloria sighs, reaches into her purse, sits on the empty countertop, and pulls out a little black book that I instantly recognize.
It’s a fucking checkbook. Anyone could see that from a mile away. But why the fuck… Every part of me slumps when she grabs her pen and writes something quickly before tearing it out.
“Here,” she says, waving it in the air until I snatch it from her hand. “The boys send their regards but want nothing to do with you or it. Kieran says to go ahead and get rid of it,” she sniffs, putting her nose in the air again. “Something about Van being the real daddy?” she asks, raising a haughty brow. A victorious smile spreads across her face, and she nods. “That’s probably right. They caught you red-handed slutting around, didn’t they?”
“Slutting around?” I gape, rearing back. “Wow. For a grown woman, you sure speak like a catty teenager. Just wow, Gloria. Thanks for the check, but you can shove it up your tight ass and maybe knock something loose, like that haughty attitude you parade around with. Have a good life, bitch,” I hiss, staring at the amount on the check and laughing. “Seriously? Nine hundred bucks for what? An abortion? Get fucked,” I say, tearing it into pieces and throwing it like confetti around me. “Although, you probably don’t care right now. Someday you’ll see this child and want to be in their life, and I’ll tell you the same thing. Get. Fucked.”
Redness coats her cheeks when she vibrates with the same rage fueling my words. With stiff movements, she reaches into her purse again and slams down four separate envelopes with another grin.
“These are for you then,” she says, tapping each envelope with her long nails. “They wanted to ensure you didn’t follow them out there and ruin their lives again. So, here are your restraining orders forbidding you from ever contacting them again. No calls. No texts. No social media messages. The moment you do, they’ll report you to the authorities. They will be famous, and they don’t need the trash of their past slipping through the cracks. It also notes that you’re not allowed to mention them on any form of social media and slander their name. Your hands are officially tied, Miss West.” Her smug look makes my head rear back.
Anger builds more, and tears fall down my cheeks at her words. Restraining orders? Christ on a cracker, they’ve lost their fucking minds. But fine. Fine! If that’s how they want to fucking play it, then so be it. I’ll work my ass off for the rest of my life to forget about them and the fucked up games they played with my heart. My only hang-up is the constant reminder they left me with. The one they want nothing to do with. Whatever. Odette and I will give this baby as much love as they need without the help of the four idiots who helped create him or her. They can brainwash themselves for as long as they want with whatever lies they want to.
I know the truth.
And one day, they will too.
Seven Months Later
ThehotJulysunbeams down when I step out of Bessy, groaning when I can stretch my legs. Sweat sticks to every damn inch of my skin, slowly dripping down my back. I swear, it's only nine in the morning, and the sun is already trying to roast me like a Thanksgiving turkey. Shit. Turkey sounds delicious.
And now, not only am I starving for the thousandth time in the two hours I've been awake, but every bone in my body aches. Seriously, It was only a ten-minute drive to the local grocery store, but it was still Hell on earth for my hips and legs. My least favorite activity these days is walking or any form of exercise. Minus sex, now that'd be a pleasant activity. Except no one wants to bang a broken-hearted, pregnant girl. So, here I am, seven months along and hornier than I've ever been in my life and fucking lonely. Where’s the good dick when you need it?
Normal women glow at this point in the pregnancy, raving about how their morning sickness has gone away and their acne has cleared. I call bullshit. I love this child with every fiber of my being, but I wish it were two months from now and she was here. Despite the circumstances and the lack of money, I’m over the moon to bring her into this world with me. It’s just her and me against the entire world. As she ages, I plan to tell her about those assfaces who tucked tail to live their rock star dreams and left us here. All positive, of course. I don't want her to go a day without knowing who helped create her.
“If you could stop kicking my bladder, that’d be great,” I mumble, rubbing a hand over my large stomach as she kicks me again. “Or not,” I quip, reaching into my backseat with a grin. “Just you and me, Lyric,” I say in a soothing voice, grabbing the grocery bags and hauling them into my hands. With a grunt, I shut the door and head up the back staircase of the record store to the apartment above it.
Seven months ago, my landlord informed me that I had to leave because my mom and I were in government-placed housing. We moved in there when I was a kid, and before my mom died, she had never added me to the lease. So, needless to say, I had to leave on a thirty-day notice, pregnant, grieving, and completely fucked up from the betrayal from the boys. Booker, bless his fucking heart, let me take over the abandoned apartment over the record store. I swear, when I'm a badass band manager, I'm buying him both businesses and a brand-new car for all the support he's given me over the years. The plus side? Van has no idea where I live and can’t snoop around, knocking on my doors every hour of the day, begging me to let him in.
My new apartment is a small one-bedroom, maybe, eight hundred square feet of living space. But it’s home now—a place to lay my head and a place for me to bring baby Lyric home when the time comes. It’s mine for now until I get through school and work.
One day, I’ll have more than an apartment above the record store. One day, I won’t depend on the government to help me buy food and provide for my medical needs. But that’s not today. Today, I’m still growing into the woman I’ll be in a few years and taking what I can get to survive.
Checking my phone, I note the time and curse. Quickly, I put my groceries away and head down to the record store for opening with my laptop in tow.
For the past few months, I’ve been going through non-stop classes, getting closer and closer to my degree. Thankfully, the community college offers summer courses as a way to guarantee degrees at a faster pace. The faster I get this, the better off I’ll be. And maybe, sometime in the future, I can get my bachelor’s and expand my business degree in music.
Finally, I sit after hours of grocery shopping, walking, and moving around. Relief slams into my damn throbbing feet when I prop them up on the counter and pop in my one working earbud, groaning at the weight off my damn toes. God. Whoever said pregnancy was magical was a big, fat liar. Listen, I’ll love this child until I die, but if I ever have to go through this again—I might pluck the child out too early and call it a day.
As I settle in and sign into school, the professor begins speaking in a monotone voice. One day someone will let this man know his class is boring and he should lighten up a little bit.
I internally groan when the bell above the door rings, announcing the arrival of… Fuckity, fuck…
“Van,” I say through gritted teeth when he waltzes in with a grin, coming straight to the counter.
He cocks his head, taking me in when he leans on the counter, and his eyes widen. “I didn’t believe the rumors, but here you are. And you’re….”
“Very pregnant,” I grit out, narrowing my eyes at his smug face when he whistles. “What the hell do you want, Van?” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose in exasperation.
I haven’t seen this fool since the night he kissed me. So, to see him now up close and personal reminds me of the promise I made myself about castrating him and selling him as pig food.
"Just came by to see how you were doing," he says, grinning and looking me over. "How've you been? I’ve been away for a while." Genuine concern fills his eyes, but I don't fall into his manipulative trap like I used to.
"Oh, just peachy. Living the good life," I quip, dripping with so much sarcasm we're practically swimming in it.
