Chapter 22

22

Colver

I can't fall asleep.

Not sure how I'm supposed to.

Once Abrielle is completely and comfortably asleep, I sneak out of my own bed and bedroom.

The pregnancy tests - minus the one I took with me - are still in the bathroom.

I assume the next step would be for Abrielle to contact her doctor and go from there.

I stand at a random window and look out at the city.

A baby.

Really?

I'm having a baby with Abrielle Mallory.

What an improbable feat. A twist of fate so fucking hard that fate itself just threw up from getting dizzy.

There's not much I can do right now about things.

Time machines aren't real.

Time only moves on and moves forward.

Not the most comforting thought.

I pour myself a shot of whiskey to shut my brain up.

It doesn't work but the whiskey tastes good.

When I climb back into my bed, Abrielle makes a little purring noise and she rolls to her left side, facing me.

I look at her right arm, which is healing up nicely.

One thing both she and I know is how fast life can move. I guess if something crazy was destined to happen between us it would be like this.

No cute meet, bumping into each other and then sparks fly.

Nope.

It's Abrielle showing up with a bloody arm and needing me to go after her ex to save her paintings. And then me being me, I finally chase down my ultimate fantasy - Abrielle herself . Just for one night though.

One night and now she's pregnant…

I'm tempted to reach out and touch her face. Stroke her cheek. Kiss her cheek. Tempted to whisper to her that I won't do anything to hurt her. She's carrying my baby.

I feel this powerful need to protect right now.

My asshole side is thick like hot tar.

Meaning I keep my hands to myself and fall asleep.

I also know if I touch Abrielle, something will happen.

Having her once…

… it's not enough…

Sleep feels like a glorified nap which has me making coffee before the sun is up.

I'm working through my second cup, sitting on the couch alone, when Abrielle walks out of my bedroom.

One look at her and my jaw tightens. Hard.

A surge of need pushes through my body.

My cock jumps inside my gym shorts.

I'm at a decent angle so Abrielle can't see my cock jumping for joy at the sight of her sleepy eyes and hair.

I tell myself this is just that protection thing happening again.

My baby is in her womb. That's all this is.

Abrielle waves and goes into the bathroom.

I sit and sigh.

There's zero chance I would ever consider getting up off the couch and making her some coffee. She can do it herself. She's fully capable of making a cup of fucking coffee.

Yeah, but…

I stand up and walk into the kitchen.

I'm irritated.

It's not that insane of a gesture.

Wow, look at me go. Pouring coffee into a cup.

That's all I do because I have no clue how Abrielle takes her coffee.

She exits the bathroom and walks toward me.

"Hey, good news, I didn't throw up this morning," she says. "Yet."

"Oh," I say. "We're having those kinds of talks now?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "Coffee?"

"Not sure how you like it," I say as I step out of the way.

Abrielle smells like my sheets. Like warm sleep.

My hands ache to just grab her and…

"Milk or creamer?"

"Yeah," I say. "Fridge. Obviously."

She opens the fridge and gets the container of half and half.

When she shuts the door and turns, my eyes go right to her nipples.

They're fucking tight pebbles pressing against the inside of my t-shirt she's wearing.

I know what they feel like too. What they taste like.

I know how her nipples react to my fingers and tongue.

How they react when she orgasms.

Now I'm second guessing myself here. Having her stay here.

But I can't let her leave.

When she finishes making her coffee, she takes a sip and sighs. "So much to figure out, huh?"

"I guess you can say that."

"Can I bring up an interesting subject?"

"Why not?"

She sips her coffee again. "My mother. Your father. There's a history there. History with us."

She cringes a little.

I lift an eyebrow. "Really? You're worried about that? About stupid fucking titles from years ago?"

"I mean, my mother was married to your father."

"I don't think the ink dried on their marriage license before my father was screwing someone else."

"True," Abrielle sighs. "But still…"

"You want to just say it out loud? You have a thing for it?"

"Stop it. We're not… related…"

"You're the one who is trying hard to connect dots that aren't there."

"I was just pointing something out."

"Something stupid," I say. "Do you know how many women were paraded through that house? How many stepmoms I've had?"

"The bigger question is how many of those stepmoms' daughters did you get pregnant?"

I step closer to Abrielle.

She's fucking beautiful in the morning like this. It has to be the pregnancy. I've seen the morning before. There's something radiating off her.

Yet she ruins it by talking.

"I'm just trying to lighten the mood," she whispers. "And wondering what do we tell them…"

"I have nothing to say."

"You're not going to tell your father?"

"I haven't talked to my father in close to ten years."

Abrielle gasps. "Oh, Colver. What happened?"

You really want to do this, kitten?

Her eyes say yes .

I'm finding myself unable to scream NO at her so easily.

It's the pregnancy. That's all.

"My father is the same man as always," I say. "We never had a good relationship. His mind cared about one thing. Well, two things. Money and women. Last I heard of him he was living in the Keys with someone half his age. Engaged to be married."

"That's…"

"He tried to sell me," I say. "Okay? I found out he was working deals with other agents and sponsors and stuff. He was using me as a meal ticket. Not that he needed more of a meal to eat. It just felt wrong and dirty. It turned into a really big mess for me. I didn't play hockey for a few months and I swore I'd never talk to him again. That's that."

"Your father was always a creep."

"What about you?" I ask. "Your mother. Heather? Right?"

Abrielle nods. "Funny story there. She changed her name a couple times. Due to some legal issues."

"Do I want to know?"

"Credit card fraud," Abrielle says.

Her eyes instantly fill with tears.

See, this is why I didn't want to fucking do this. Why bring up shit like this? What am I supposed to do now? Console her? She brought this up!

"One of her husbands got her out of the charges. I guess. I don't know. I've kept my distance for a while. She goes by Hannah now."

"Wow. From Heather to Hannah. Okay."

"There's other stuff too. Stuff I don't even know. Stuff I don't want to know. She's in Seattle now. Anytime I talk to her she complains she's broke. She tells stories too. To try and get money out of me. I stopped believing her when I sold a painting to help her pay rent only to find out she was living with someone. She used that money for traveling because she had no rent."

"Fuck," I say.

"So it's as fucked up as ever for them and us," she says.

She sips her coffee and turns away, blinking fast.

Without thinking, I touch her sweetly curved hip and spin her back around to face me.

Then I reach for her face, gently, and I wipe away a stray tear.

I've done this before.

Last time I did it, I walked away and we never talked again.

Not until she showed up… bloody…

And now she's pregnant. With my baby.

I lean down and brush my lips to hers.

The concoction of morning breath and sugary coffee lingers on my lips.

I'm not this kind of guy.

I can't become this kind of guy.

There's no way the girl who was kind of my stepsister for a month can change me.

It's just not going to happen.