Chapter Two

Carson

I stand against the breezeway of the rest stop and wait for Sky to finish in the bathroom. It’s a cool breezy day, but the drive is gorgeous. Mountains roll in the distance with colorful leaves that fall and drop in the wind, and there’s a crisp pine smell in the air that’s refreshing. I’m all for the summer months up here, but there’s nothing like a fall drive, and doing it with Sky makes everything more fun.

I’d gather to say she’s the only grown woman I know that squeals when she sees baby deer on the side of the road or jumps with excitement when we come across a few colorful maple trees in a row. She went on about the way the leaves danced for at least ten minutes. I love that about her, how simple things make her so damn happy, which is why I’m staring at the vending machine right now.

Her basket is still filled with snacks and there are still plenty of donuts in the box, but I like her to have surprises. There’re candy bars, but she’s already got a few of those. Chips, but she’s got those too. When I see the Pop-Tart, I know that’s the gold I’m looking for. I dig change from my pocket and slide quarters into the machine one by one before I press F7 and wait as the pastry drops into the bottom rack.

Feeling like a king, I turn around, holding the strawberry pastry proudly in my hand. I live for her excitement, for the way she lights up, for the way she smiles and tips up onto her toes. No one else reacts like she does. No one else would get excited about something as simple as a baby deer or a strawberry Pop-Tart. No one else is as perfect as my little bug.

My little bug . I need to stop doing that. She’s not mine. She hasn’t been. She never will be. I need to get it out of my head. Trouble is, I’ve always felt like she was mine. When we met, she was a seventeen-year-old who’d just lost her parents, and I was a close family friend who knew what that was like. We found solace in each other.

It was nothing weird. I’d take her out, listen to her talk, remind her that life gets better, and then I’d take her home. When I deployed, she was the one person I didn’t want to leave. I felt responsible for her and her happiness. We kept in touch via email and phone calls, and when I came home, I made her a priority because I missed her. I felt responsible for her because I loved her… because she was mine.

I turn around with the Pop-Tart, noticing she’s standing outside the bathroom talking to some creep. He’s a lanky guy sporting a trucker cap and overalls, and clearly, he wants to get his ass beat. His filthy hand is on her stomach.

I already hate that there’s another man’s baby inside of her, so watching some asshole rub her down isn’t going to fly.

“Hey,” I bark, stalking toward the man.

He pulls back his hand and stares at me. “She said the baby was kicking.”

“Did she ask you to fucking touch her?” I glance toward Sky. “Did you give him permission to touch you?”

She shakes her head, and I drive my fist into the man’s jaw.

He falls backward onto the ground and wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand. I’m sure a camera somewhere caught this, but there are no immediate bystanders to get their panties in a bunch, and if there were, I’d put them on the ground too.

“Don’t touch women without permission.” I spit on the ground next to the man and sink my hand into Sky’s, guiding her down the ramp toward the truck. “If someone touches you like that again, kick them in the balls or holler for me.”

“Yeah, my legs don’t work like that right now, Carson. I feel like I’m carrying a 900-pound beach ball around.”

“So then scream for help, bug. I don’t want random men touching you. Jesus.” I help her up into the truck as I try to calm my blood from boiling over. I’m not sure I’ve been this angry in ages.

“What do you care?” she huffs, buckling her seatbelt.

The wealth of emotion I have for her spins around, threatening to evacuate, but I bite it back in favor of reason. “You hired me to keep you safe, so I’m doing my job.”

“Right. Your job, ” she huffs, staring out the side window as I roll out of the parking lot.

I pull the Pop-Tart from my pocket and hand it toward her. “I found this in the vending machine. Thought you’d enjoy it.” Despite the drama, my heart still anticipates her excitement.

She turns toward me, light in her eyes, but her tone is dark.

I’m confused. The Pop-Tart was a sure-fire win.

“Why do you do all this stuff for me, Carson? I mean, your hand on my back, the snacks, the blanket, the knocking the rude guy out.”

I wrinkle my brows. “He needed to be punched.”

“No, he didn’t. He was just being friendly and didn’t know boundaries. People touch my stomach all the time. It happens to everyone.”

“I don’t care what other people do,” I growl. “You won’t have anyone touching you without permission.”

She huffs out a sigh and shakes her head. “Then why have you been ignoring me? I mean, we used to be so close. Now, we barely talk anymore.”

I blow out a heavy breath and stare out the front window, unsure of how to have this conversation. I can’t tell her that I’ve stayed away the last few years because I can’t stop thinking about bending her over. I can’t tell her that getting invested in her means wanting to murder everyone who talks to her. I can’t tell her that I’ve been in love with her for as long as I can remember.

“You’ve been busy.” Admittedly, this isn’t the best excuse.

“I have not been busy!”

I nod toward her stomach. “You look like you’ve been busy.”

She narrows her brows and twists toward me. “ Wow. Really? Is that some kind of slut shaming thing, because I’m pretty sure you’ve done your share of fucking around. So, maybe stop being a judgmental jerk.”

I’m not saying the right things. I get that. “No. I’m just… curious why you let an asshole knock you up.”

She folds her arms over her chest and looks away. “It’s none of your business what I do with my life, Carson. You checked out of that a long time ago.”

“Stop making excuses and talk to me. What did you see in that asshole that made you think you should let him touch you?”

She rolls her eyes and glances toward me for a moment before looking away again. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Well, you’re collecting your things from his fucking house with security, so he can’t have been that great. Besides, I looked him up. He has a reputation three counties wide for drug shit.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t know him like I did.”

“You trying to tell me the drug dealing psychopath is a nice guy deep down?”

“No,” she lifts her hand as though she’s wiping away a tear, “I’m saying I thought he was. Look, I get it… I’m fucking up my life. Whatever, just leave me alone.”

Fuck. I don’t want her to be upset. That wasn’t the goal. I want her to be happy. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.

“You’re not fucking up your life, bug. You’re—”

“While we’re at it, I hate it when you call me, bug.”

My chest squeezes. “You hate bug? I’ve called you bug forever.”

“Right, when I was seventeen. I’m twenty-five now.”

“Okay… what would you prefer I call you?”

“I don’t know,” she snaps, “just not bug.”

Jesus, I’ve called her bug so long I can’t imagine calling her anything else.

“Alright, well… Sky … I’m sorry I offended you. Who you date and choose to father your baby is none of my business.” Everything in that sentence is bullshit, including the part where I call her Sky.

“He doesn’t know he’s the father.” She swallows hard and pulls a tissue from the glove box like she knew they were there. “He can’t know he’s the father.”

My brows narrow. “What?”

“If he knows he’s the father, he’s going to act like I owe him something, and I don’t. He’s in and out of jail, he sells drugs, and I’m pretty sure he kills people.” Tears stream down her face. “The thought of him filing for custody and having to leave my baby here kills me. I’d rather run away and never come back again.”

I would never fight her on something like this. I know who the asshole is and I hate that he touched Sky at all. “Don’t worry about it, honey.” I reach for her hand, squeezing it in mine as she cries. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She glances toward me, her face pale with what I assume is worry. I can’t imagine everything that she has on her mind or the amount of nonsense she’s been through lately. She deserves so much more than this. She deserves a life free of bullshit and full of love and happiness.

I want to give her that. I always have.

“Honey?” She smiles, wiping away more tears. “That’s what we’re going with now?”

“It keeps coming out of my mouth, so… I guess so. Too much?”

“No,” she swallows hard, her gaze on mine, “I like it.”

I squeeze her hand and smile, my heart filled with warmth. “Good. I like it, too.”