36. Penelope

36

PENELOPE

L inc has been silent since he picked me up from therapy. I don’t understand what’s going on because when he left me this afternoon, he was happy.

We both were.

It’s unbelievable how happy we’ve both been the past couple of weeks.

And thanks to therapy, that fact doesn’t absolutely gut me.

“You okay?”

He just grumbles as he starts up the hill toward the house.

Something is definitely up. When he parks the car, I climb out, feeling the wind kick up and blow my hair all over the place.

I pull the black scrunchie from my wrist and use it to tie my hair as I follow him up to the porch, his body showing his tension.

“Linc, what the hell is going on?” I grip his forearm, forcing him to look at me as we reach the top step.

“I don’t think I should tell you, P.”

“What’s going on?” I feel a chill through my body and try to joke, hoping he’s just messing with me. “Are you pregnant? Because I’ll be there for you.”

He doesn’t laugh, not at all. Shit. Not even a smirk. “ I’m not.”

“Someone is?” I take a seat on one of the outdoor chairs, unable to stand any longer with the horrible feeling I have in my gut. I wrap my hands around my stomach.

“No. Not anymore. She had the baby.”

I swallow, the lump in my throat not going away. “Who?” Did he get someone pregnant?

“Vivienne Crenshaw.”

I search my memory for that name, but I’ve never heard it before. “Who is she?”

His fingers rake through his wavy brown hair as I look at him, begging for answers. “She went to our school. She was younger than me, a class below you.”

What the hell is going on?

I stand up, my hands shaking at my sides as I look into his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“She was waiting here for me when I got back this afternoon. With her baby.”

“Are you the father?”

I don’t have any rights to Linc. And I definitely didn’t a year ago, since the child is already born.

His head slides slowly from side to side. “No.”

I search his face, seeing his sorrow. My hands will not stop shaking as I flex them at my sides. “Who is?”

He looks away from me, and I watch his chest fill with air before he blows it out and faces me again. “Colt.”

No. No. No.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

He seems to accept my anger with no issue. It doesn’t faze him. “Not about this.”

“That’s total bullshit. And when does this girl say he got her pregnant?”

“A month before prom.” I gulp, looking into Linc’s eyes and struggling to breathe. He wouldn’t touch me.

He was even hesitant to kiss me.

“No.”

“P, I saw the kid.”

“She’s lying. There’s no way in hell he would do that to me. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like . . .”

“Us?” Now he’s starting to get fired up, and I feed off his anger.

“Yes. Like us. He would never do that. He was good.”

“Yeah well,” he cracks his neck and then grabs the back of it, “we all have our breaking points. He had so much fucking pressure on him his whole life.”

I stare at Linc in astonishment. “Are you seriously defending him?”

“No. I’m not. It was shitty, but he’s not fucking here to yell at.”

“I don’t believe it, Linc. He would never do that.” Would he? No. This is Colt . He never lost control. Not ever. Not even with me. Not even when I begged him to. I feel sick and wrap my arms around my waist.

“She’s willing to do a DNA test. And the kid looks just like his baby pictures.”

I shake my head, gripping my stomach and trying not to get physically ill, my eyes lifting to meet his as I lash out, “Are you the father? Are you putting this off on Colt because you don’t want to face it? I mean, you two looked an awful lot alike.”

He doesn’t entertain my outburst. “No. I’ve never fucked her, but my brother did.”

“Fuck you, Linc. You’re lying.”

“No. I’m not.” He takes a step closer to me, his head dipping down to look me directly in the eyes. “And you know I’m not.”

I start to walk away from him, dropping my hands to the side, fury swelling up inside of me. When he grabs for my hand, I yank it away and pull back, smacking him across the face. “Don’t touch me.”

He looks hurt, but not physically, his eyes registering all the pain I’ve caused him as I struggle to breathe, standing there panting. Linc never backs down from me, but this time he walks down the stairs and climbs into his car, driving away.

I sink down to the wooden porch and hold onto my stomach, sobbing and hating the world.

How could he do this to me?