Chapter 3 Sydney

S ix weeks later

"You've got to be kidding me," I muttered, holding my finger to my nose as the overwhelming odor of fried fish assaulted my senses. All week, the stench had bulldozed through the front door of the office supply store where I worked, wreaking havoc as it twisted my gut. I swallowed down the extra saliva pooling in my mouth as nausea stole my concentration. Since when did a smell make me feel like I was about to hurl the contents of my stomach into the nearest toilet?

I wasn't usually this sensitive to smells. Sure, this fish fry was more intense than I remembered noticing in the past, but that didn't explain my reaction. Maybe Carl's Fish it was a me problem. This was why I didn't do casual sex or hookups.

I wasn't that type of girl. Some women loved that lifestyle. Or the bar scene with a new guy every night. I never found the allure. Honestly, it was frustrating. Why couldn't I let it go? Why did I want Trojan, War, and Raptor to desire me beyond one night of beneficial, vigorous, thoroughly pleasurable sex?

Because it was that fucking good .

I cared about them. That fast. Only one night, and I felt something for those men after sharing so many hours between the sheets. It wasn't logical, but I couldn't change it. Lying to myself about it wouldn't do me any good. I had to accept our hookup was nothing more than a few shared orgasms and an incredible night. Okay, it was more than a few.

With a sigh, I burrowed deeper beneath the blanket. Levi bumped my hand, and I scratched behind his ears. He would keep doing it until he received an appropriate amount of affection. It was hard to deny him when I saw those brown eyes staring up at me. If nothing else, I knew I had my dog's love and devotion.

My phone rang, and I groaned as I reached for it, snatching it off the table without looking at the display. My finger swiped across the screen, and I answered. "Hello?"

I thought the caller was either Becca or my mother—no one else called during the day. I was wrong.

"Hello, am I speaking to Sydney Parrish?"

Shit. A telemarketer?

"Yes."

"I need to inform you that this is an attempt to collect a debt, and any information obtained will be used for that purpose."

A debt? "I don't have any debts." Really. I had paid everything off. My credit card was in my purse, but I never used it. I was trying to save money, not spend it.

"Well, Ma'am, according to the bank that issued your visa, you're in default. The account is nearly five months past due."

I blinked, unable to comprehend how this could be possible. "I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"You defaulted on five thousand, six hundred, and eighty-three dollars. The total amount will continue increasing until you settle the debt or make a payment arrangement. Can you make a payment today?"

Hell fucking no. And I wouldn't anyway. "This is a mistake. I haven't used my card since last Christmas. I paid it off in February."

"Do you have any authorized users on your account?"

Authorized users? Oh. Fuck. FUCK! Daryl used my card. It was the only explanation. That motherfucker!

"My ex," I blurted angrily, "but he shouldn't have access. I carry the only card."

"I can't tell you if the charges were for online purchases, but that might be a possibility."

I wanted to throw up. This time, it had nothing to do with the smell of fish. Daryl had stolen over twenty-five thousand dollars from me. How the hell was this possible?

"How do I dispute the charges? Can I file a claim of fraud?"

The guy on the other end sighed. "Yeah. I'm not supposed to share this information, but you sound genuinely shocked."

No shit.

He gave me the necessary numbers, and I spent three hours on the phone, pursuing every option I had. By the time I finished, I was mentally exhausted. My stomach still felt queasy, and I decided I needed sleep more than anything else.

When I woke with a headache the following morning, I called off work. I just couldn't handle the fish odor and all the bullshit haunting me from the debts in my name. Daryl fucked me over in multiple ways. I didn't know how I would make this mess right.

My phone vibrated with an incoming text, and I ignored Becca. I couldn't talk to her right now. She would know something was wrong, and I'd have to share another way Daryl deceived and used me.

I almost called my mother, but that was an equally problematic conversation. My parents never liked Daryl. I didn't listen when they said he didn't seem like my type. My mother said he seemed sneaky. I didn't have a clue why she thought that. My father thought he wasn't good enough for me. As a result, I hadn't spoken to my parents often in the last couple of years. With my mother, it was complicated. She judged me more than she cared to give advice or offer help.

Now, I felt horrible. They'd been right.

As if she'd been thinking of me, I received an incoming text from my mom. We'd love to see you at church on Sunday.

She never messaged anything else. There were no questions about how I was doing or anything about Daryl. They hated that I married him even if I wasn't shacking up anymore.

We're praying for you.

Except that.

Disgusted, I tossed my phone across the couch. It landed beside Levi, and he turned his head, sniffed it, and looked away, returning to his doggie dreams.

I loved my parents but couldn't be the person they wanted me to be. I tried most of my life to live up to that perfect preacher's daughter's reputation. I failed more than I succeeded. They expected me to conform and be the good girl who set an example to her peers.

"Everyone looks up to you," my mother used to say.

"You need to lead a life you can be proud of," my father would add.

They meant well, but I never felt they understood me. When I moved in with Daryl outside of marriage, they nearly cut me off. My mother worried about what people would say. My father shook the bible at me, too angry to do more than sputter. That was the last time I saw them.

"Guess you're just a bad girl," I muttered.

Not to mention easily taken advantage of. Gullible. Na?ve. Those were only some of the words I could think of to describe myself.

My phone vibrated on the couch, and I honestly didn't want to answer it. I picked it up, staring warily at the screen. Unknown number. Great.

Avoiding the bill collectors wouldn't do me any good. Any debts in my name needed to be disputed immediately, and avoidance only caused more problems.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hi, you've been selected—"

I hung up and sighed. Loudly.

The phone immediately vibrated in my hand, and I didn't bother to look at the screen before I swiped across and cut off the caller before they could try to sell me something. "I'm not interested. Please stop calling and lose my number." I hit end and powered off my cell.

This disastrous day couldn't get any worse. Right?

I left Levi on the couch and went into my bathroom. After a hot shower, I returned, curling under the blanket.

Levi bumped my hand, and I rubbed the back of his head, stroking the fur along his ears. He loved that.

A knock woke me. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until I jolted awake. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I nearly fell off the couch as I stood, making my way toward the door. One look through the peephole confirmed Becca was outside.

I opened the door. "Hey."

"Damn. You look awful, babe."

"Thanks," I mumbled as she entered, and I closed the door.

"Did you power off your phone?"

"Yeah. I haven't been feeling well."

She looked me over. "Are you sick?"

"I think so."

She tilted her head at me. "What are the symptoms?"

"Fatigue, headache, and nausea. I've been throwing up for almost three days," I groaned. "I think it's the flu."

"Three days?" She frowned. "That's not the flu, Syd."

"Well, what else could it be?" I asked, not really expecting her to answer.

"When was your last period?"

I froze. No. Way.

"Sydney?"

"I, uh, I'm not sure."

She reached for my hand and led me to the couch. I sat down on the edge, trying not to panic as the weeks began to add up in my head.

"Babe. Have you had a period since the night we went to the clubhouse?"

No. Oh, shit. Shit! "No," I whispered.

"We need to buy a pregnancy test," she concluded.

"I don't think—"

"Sydney, you need to take a test."

"But what if you're wrong? Maybe I'm just sick."

She gave me a sympathetic look. "Honey, you're in denial."

"No, I'm not," I shot back. I totally was.

"You're not gonna know for sure until you pee on the damn stick, Syd."

Ugh. She was right.

"Fine."