47. Renee

”I could call in. I got ejected last night, so it”s not like Coach is gonna be all geared up and ready to see me.”

”You don”t have to do that, Weston. I”ll be fine.”

”What if that fuckhead, Deacon, shows up?”

Weston makes a good point. And while I don”t say it out loud, it”s something I’m a little worried about, too. I haven”t even bothered checking my phone to see if Deacon has tried to call or message me. I”m avoiding him, my family, all of it, like the plague right now.

Of course, it wouldn”t really take all that much for Deacon to figure out where I’m holed up. Especially when it just so happens to be the same hospital my mother”s been bringing me to for my appointments. He”s not exactly known for respecting my privacy.

Not-so-misplaced paranoia aside, I honestly don”t know what to make of this new Weston. He”s a far cry from the man who, just weeks ago, boldly declared he didn”t want to be a father.

It isn”t like that”s a small thing to announce, either. It was final. Definitive.

I feel whiplash. The last two days have had me in a mental and emotional whirlpool, between the escalation of Deacon”s threats, the hockey game, getting unceremoniously bonked on the head—and now, this. The cat’s out of the bag, running loose and rampant in the form of Weston Scott wanting to be a father to our baby.

I”m not complaining. Far from it.

I just don”t want to put all my eggs in the basket, only for him to get cold feet.

It seems like a cruel thing to say to him when he”s trying so hard. He”s willing to skip practice and risk Coach Hud’s wrath just to keep me company.

”How about I get Sutton to come over?” I suggest instead. “Just long enough for you to be able to go to practice.” I haven”t even told her what happened, though I”m sure I”ll get an earful and a half when I do.

Weston doesn”t look convinced, but after a moment, he relents. ”Alright. I”ll come back here as soon as practice is over.”

I can’t help but smile shyly at the warmth flickering in my chest like candlelight. “Deal. Hey, uh, can you get my phone for me?”

Everything that I’d had on me when I came here is packed neatly into a bag on a shelf just under the large window that streams sunlight into my room. If nothing else, it helps me feel like I”m not in a hospital, which makes all of this more manageable than it would be otherwise.

From the bag, he retrieves my phone and hands it over to me. A spike of anxiety hits me when I take it. There are messages from Deacon. Many of them. Not one is particularly nice.

DEACON: Call me.

DEACON: You WILL return to my home today.

DEACON: Don”t think you can stay away, Renee. Don”t think you can fuck with me like this and get away with it.

I have several missed calls from him as well. I delete the voicemails without listening to them because Lord knows I do not need those threats swimming around in my head.

Instead, I pull up my texts with Sutton.

RENEE: Hey, I need a favor.

RENEE: No questions right now, but can you come to the hospital?

I send my location and room number to her.

SUTTON: ???

SUTTON: Of course.

SUTTON: ARE YOU OK???

SUTTON: Sorry, I’m aware those are all questions, but… ????!?!?!

RENEE: I’m good. Promise. I”ll explain when you get here.

Sutton gives my text a thumbs up. Despite the circumstances, I”m glad I get to see my best friend. I”ve been so isolated from everything and everyone that isn”t Deacon- and parent-approved.

It suddenly occurs to me that I look, smell, and feel incredibly gross. ”I”m gonna shower,” I decide. I push myself to sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed, but my feet haven’t even touched the floor before Weston is at my side, his arm out to help me up.

”You know I don”t have a concussion, right? I can walk.”

”You can, but it”s so much nicer for me to help.” He grins. ”You”re not gonna deny me the privilege, are you?”

How could anyone deny that damn grin?

I turn my nose up. ”I suppose not. If I have to.”

”You like it.”

”You can”t prove that.”

”Can, too. Look at that blush on your cheeks.”

His fingers brush over the heat on my face. I have to look like a tomato at this point, because I feel positively on fire.

”Shut up. Come on, if you”re gonna help me, help me. I need to shower, like, ASAP. ‘Bout to pass out from my own rankness.”

Weston chuckles and lets me balance on his arm. I don”t have a concussion, but between the tumble and the sheer amount of emotional energy spent last night, I”m beyond beat.

Despite my misgivings about how opulent the hospital is, I appreciate the fact that this room is private and complete with a bathroom and a personal shower. I”m even more grateful that Weston helps me in there, peeling me out of my hospital gown.

It isn”t sexual—it”s loving. Gentle. He takes his time, gaze soft, fingers tender. ”You good?” he asks as I steady myself. He reaches over and starts up the water.

”Yeah. I can stand.”

”Cool. I”ll be just right out here, okay?”

I can practically see the struggle written all over his face in leaving me, but he does. It makes me giggle and blush harder at the same time. There”s something endearing about the way he seems so attached to looking after me.

Looking after us.

My hand brushes over my stomach as I step under the spray of the shower. It”s relieving that he knows now, in a way. Like, our baby isn”t this big, spooky, disastrous secret anymore.

It doesn”t change that I still have my parents and a fiancé to answer to. But that”s a mountain I”ll have to overcome once I”m cleared from the hospital.

For now, this shower is all I need to focus on.

I take my time, washing my hair and my body thoroughly. I keep my movements delicate. On top of the stumble, I haven”t eaten since early yesterday. I”m a little wobbly, but the shower comes with a balance bar I take full advantage of as I rinse myself off.

Note to self: schedule a spa appointment when I get out of here.I need professional help to scrub the past away.

When I”m done, I get out and dry myself. I have the choice between a white hospital gown and a pink hospital gown. Such daring fashion choices—how’s a girl to choose? I opt for the white one and wrap my hair into my towel turban to keep it from dripping all over me.

I must have been in the shower for a hot minute, because as soon as I step out, I”m met with an interesting scene.

Sutton is on one side of the room and Weston on the other like something out of an old-school Western movie. Showdown at the DuBois Saloon. They both have their arms folded over their chests and their eyes are locked on each other. They”re mean-mugging, locked in a silent battle as if they”re cursing each other out via some kind of enemy telepathy.

I clear my throat. Both of their attentions snap to me.

”Renee!” Sutton damn near runs my way, embracing me. I fold easily into her hug. ”You got some explaining to do, missy.”

”She doesn”t need to explain anything to you,” Weston cuts in.

”Oh, fuuuck you.” Sutton pulls away, leveling a hell of a glare in Weston”s direction. ”You”re the reason that she”s in here in the first place!”

”Actually, your good friend Deacon is the reason.”

“‘Good friend’?!”

Weston tilts his head. ”Seems like he”d be your speed.”

”You piece of shit?—”

”Hey!” I interject. ”Can you two chill the fuck out? I”m not dying or dead, so stop arguing like I am. It doesn”t help.”

Sutton at least has the sense to look a little shamed. ”Sorry, Nay.”

Weston huffs through his nose, but he apologizes, too. ”Yeah. Sorry.” He gives Sutton a narrow-eyed look. ”Listen, I just want the best for Renee. I”m sure you do, too. So can we agree on that?”

“Hmph. Fine. Yeah.”

”Good.” Weston turns to me. Totally ignoring that Sutton is still there, he leans in to press a kiss to my forehead. ”I have to go to practice and get my ass chewed out by Coach and the guys,” he says. ”But I”ll come back after. Get some rest.” He looks to Sutton pointedly. ”No excitement.”

”Bite me, puck boy.”

Weston snorts. ”You probably taste past your prime anyway, B-list.”

He leaves us, Sutton still fuming.

”The nerve of that guy. ‘B-list,’ my ass. Just because he can kinda slide a chunk of coal across a slab of dirty ice water!” She huffs, turning her attention back to me. ”Seriously, though, Renee: are you okay? He didn”t actually say fully what happened. Getting that guy to be anything other than a jackass is like pulling teeth, I swear.”

I laugh a little. ”You”re both stubborn, to be fair.”

She makes a gagging face. ”Ew, don”t compare me to that asshole.”

”Mhmm.” I trek back over to the hospital bed and plop down. Sutton takes her place in the chair Weston had been occupying.

”Alright, spill,” she orders. ”Why didn”t you call me last night when you got here?”

”I was kinda passed out. It”s a bit of a story…”

I take her through the whole soap opera of Deacon”s making, from him forcing me into the main house, to the dress and the threats, then bringing me to Weston”s game. Then the real reason I ended up here: their fight.

”He should have been more careful,” Sutton cries out. ”What was he thinking?! Ugh, nothing at all. Men. All of them are locked in a constant race to the bottom.”

”It”s not like he hurt me,” I say. ”It seriously was an accident. I tried to get between two bulls fighting. What else was going to happen?”

”Some damn common sense! From the both of them!” Sutton huffs again and combs her hair out of her face. ”Anyway… I am glad you”re okay. You and that little one of yours. So I guess he knows now, huh? About the baby? What”d he say about that?”

My cheeks go right back to scalding. ”He wants to be a part of the baby”s life. He wants to help me.”

”He damn well better. Do you think he”ll actually stick to it, though?”

That”s the real kicker, isn”t it? The same question I’ve been asking myself again and again and again.

”He seems like he really wants to try,” I answer carefully. “I want to believe him.”

”But…?”

”But that also means believing what he”s said before, too. He never wanted kids of his own. This is a huge fucking curveball, isn”t it?”

Sutton hums. ”Well, I say if he”s claiming he”s going to step up to the plate, give him the chance to prove you wrong.”

I just raise a brow. “That’s an awfully quick turnaround from ‘he’s a jackass.’”

She laughs. ”No, no, don”t give me that look. I”m not on his side. Not yet. If he wants to do this, he needs to prove he”s committed. Not just words, but actions. You two still haven”t fully reconciled the fact that he literally got you kicked out of your home—and that he”s the reason you have to be with Deacon in the first place. I don”t see the problem in making him be the one that does the legwork. And if he turns out to be a snake…” Sutton balls up one of her fists, punching into the palm of her other hand. ”Pow, right in the kisser.”

I snort. ”How menacing of you. Very mafioso.”

”Isn”t it? Anyway, I—oh, what the fuck?”

From out of nowhere, Sutton”s phone starts going off. And I mean off. Buzzing, vibrating, spouting off with the little chime ringtone she has set. It all makes for a godawful sensory overload. She pulls it out of her purse, huffing and puffing as she starts swiping notifications off.

But after a moment, she pauses.

”What the…?” She squints and does the old lady thing—bringing her phone closer to and farther from her face, as if that will help her comprehend what”s going on on her screen any better.

When she gets the focus dialed in, her face instantly pales out and a horrified look crosses her eyes. Sutton glances up to me and then back down to her phone.

”What?” She”s starting to freak me out. ”Sutton, what?”

Sutton swallows before showing me her screen.

The screen is an obnoxious kaleidoscope of colors. She”s on some trashy gossip website, the title font a garish magenta, the letters in all caps.

RENEE DUBOIS PREGNANT WITH SURPRISE BABY! WEDDING BELLS ON THE WAY? WHO”S THE LUCKY FATHER AND MORE QUESTIONS!

Stricken, I look up to Sutton. ”How”d this happen?”

Sutton scans the article again. ”Says the source wanted to ‘remain anonymous.’” She rolls her eyes. ”They slipped that you were in the hospital, though. Speculating whether it’s a routine check-up or ‘something more.’”

Our eyes go suspiciously to the hospital door at the same time. ”You don”t think…?”

”One of the nurses?” I say incredulously. ”Why? I”ve been coming here for months. Wouldn”t they have spilled the beans sooner? They”re paid not to tell people anything!”

”Yeah, but you were coming with your mother,” she reminds me. ”You show up with a man—and that man isn”t Deacon? That kind of tea is worth a lot of money, babe.”

My heart rate monitor begins to beep rapidly. I can feel my heart cracking against my chest like it’s trying to beat its way out. The best thing about this hospital was supposed to be that I wouldn”t have to worry about this shit. Not the prying eyes, not the tabloids. Not a single rumor should have made it to the mill while I was here. Yet here I am and now?—

Now, what am I supposed to do?

”I need to get out of here.”

Sutton”s alarm heightens. ”Right now? Is it safe?” she asks, tapping the side of her head.

”They said I didn”t have a concussion,” I tell her. ”They just wanted to keep me to make sure the baby would be okay before sending me off.”

Sutton purses her lips. ”Oh, fuck it.” She goes to the door to lock it. ”We”re busting you out of here, heist-style. You got your clothes from last night?”

I nod. Adrenaline pumps through me. ”Yeah. They washed them and put them with the rest of my things.”

”Where?”

I point to the countertop. ”There.”

Sutton makes a beeline to the counter and grabs my clothes. Her face scrunches up as she holds the dress up, examining it. It”s like it”s a diseased creature with the way she keeps it at arm”s length, pinched between two fingers.

”Ugh. It”s so tacky,” she complains. ”It”ll have to do to make you look like you”re not a patient.”

Sutton grumbles about how so not “me” the dress is while she helps me into it. But something even I had forgotten about catches her eyes as she”s helping me slip my arms into the dress.

She takes hold of my arm, turning it under the light. Her eyes scrunch up in scrutiny. ”Babe, what are these from? Who did this?”

I glance down at the same time I realize what she”s talking about. The bruises on my arms.

”Oh… er…” Quick, think of something! You fell down stairs. Hit a cabinet. Had a surfing accident?—

I don”t even surf.

”There are fingerprints,” Sutton pushes suspiciously.

”Sutton—”

”Don”t you Sutton me!”

”We can talk about this when we get the hell out of here.” I really don”t want this conversation at all, but I definitely don’t want to do it here.

Sutton grimaces. ”Fuck, I hate this shit.”

”You and me both.”

I squeeze into the tacky dress the rest of the way and tie my hair back into a messy ponytail.

Sutton gives me a onceover and sighs. ”Such a beautiful girl, and that man has no fucking taste when it comes to dressing you.” Shaking her head, she grabs the rest of my things and makes sure we”re good to go. ”Alright. What”s less suspicious, you just strolling out of here or you going out in a wheelbar?—”

Rattle… rattle…

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK.

”Renee, quit being silly and open this door.”

My blood runs cold. I’d know that voice anywhere.

It”s my father.