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“Yeah. I was dealing with shit too. And you weren’t there. You promised me. You promised me if something happened, if I got pregnant, we’d figure it out together, and you’d be there for me. How many times did we talk about it before we finally had sex?” A million. Because losing my virginity and getting pregnant had been one of my biggest fears. And rightfully so because it’d happened.
His entire body tenses as he searches my eyes, slowly processing my words. “Are you lying? Just to hurt me?”
I fucking wish. “I got pregnant, Cade. When I found out you weren’t coming back—that you left me there alone—I terminated the pregnancy.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Exactly. Because you were too busy crying about your mommy while mine was flying us to Colorado for a ‘girls trip’ to the abortion clinic.”
“Why didn’t you find me? Why didn’t you tell me?” His angry words rocket through me. Good. I hope he hates me even more now.
“I tried. I messaged. I called. I left voice mails. And yes, I looked for you. I didn’t think to check the camp until we were already on the fucking plane. But I realized you didn’t want to be found. Because you weren’t only hiding from your dad or family drama, you were hiding from me too.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Motherfucker. I can’t do this. “Yes, you were!” I scream at the top of my lungs and shove him away. “Get the fuck out of my sight now.”
Instead of leaving, he moves to wrap his arms around me. And I thank God that this is happening in the shower because I don’t want him to see my tears. I shift back enough to swing my hand, slapping across his face then jab my palms into his chest. “I swear to God, if you don’t get out of here, I will push you off the fucking balcony.”
He doesn’t move for a few seconds, then his hands finally fall from me, and he reluctantly takes a few steps back as I turn away from him. When I hear the shower door close, I shut my eyes and take a few gulps of air. I can’t lose it. Not right now. A few tears. Okay. Let’s move the fuck on now. I won’t fall. I won’t break. They won’t win.
14
CADE
I underestimated her. I didn’t think she’d ever knock me off my feet like she did when she set fire to the King yacht. But this… this is too much. Now it all makes sense. Her hatred. The way she looked at me when I did come back. She’s right. It was too late by then. I only left to get away from what I was dealing with, not realizing what she was going through.
I drop on the chair, the wet fabric of my jeans reminding me that nothing is playing out how I’d imagined. I want to get some dry clothes, sit down, and actually talk to her. But I know that won’t happen if I leave this room right now. She won’t let me back in. Hell. She might even make good on her promise and push me over the damn balcony when she discovers I’m still sitting in her room. I just can’t leave like this. So, I wait. And it’s about twenty minutes later when she steps out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body as she uses another to dry her hair.
Silence. Nothing. I guess I should be relieved for that. But screaming is still possible as I ask, “What can I do?” Because saying what I could’ve or should’ve done doesn’t seem sufficient.
“Leave. That’s what everyone in your family does best.” She laughs.
“Morgan, we need to talk about this.”
Her back is to me, but I can see her shoulders tensing. “Yeah. Because that’ll help so much.” She turns to face me. Her hatred firmly in place. “It’s in the past. I was pregnant. You bailed. Nothing left to talk about.”
“I wish I wouldn’t have left. That I could’ve been there when you tried to tell me.”
“What? You wanted to discuss the options? Force me into keeping it? Too fucking bad. What is done is done.”
“No, I wouldn’t have forced you either way. I would’ve let you make the final decision. But I wouldn’t have let you go through it alone no matter what you decided.”
She just shakes her head and smiles. “Too fucking late.” When her hard-as-stone eyes meet mine, I know there’s no getting through to her. Her wall isn’t just in place, it’s bulletproof and reinforced.
So I sit and watch as she pulls on a tank and some underwear. The red marks around her throat have faded but are still there. Standing, I move to her as she brushes out her hair in the mirror.
I almost lift my hand to trail along her skin before I think twice. She’s mad but at least not sending me falling to my death. And I don’t want her to actually make me leave this room right now. Or tonight at all. But I have to know. “Who did it?” I motion to her neck.
Her arm drops at her side, her frustrated gaze watching me in the mirror. But her lips remain sealed.
“Morgan, please.”
“No.” Her defiant stare stays on me as she says, “Now, build a bridge and fall the fuck off of it.”
I can’t help but smile. “I don’t think that’s how it goes.” At least she’s simply insulting me instead of telling me to leave. And I’ll let it drop. For now. But I will find out who it was and why the fuck they touched her one day. Right now, I just try to push it aside. Because I can’t let her go now more than ever. I take a step back and remove my jeans and boxers.
“What the hell are you doing?”
