Chapter 20

CHAPTER

TWENTY

MARY

I wait backstage, the atmosphere as tense as it can be. Marquis leans against the wall, chewing on a toothpick as he fiddles with his mustache. Brad has a slight grin on his face, shaking his head at the antics. I try to play along. We haven't spoken about yesterday, the bombshell. There's an uneasy truce. I know he's waiting for me to be ready to talk about it, about Mom, what she did, and who she really was.

But all I can think about now is how feral Rust became when Cain Cruz aimed the trash talk at us. He's never lost it like that. I check my phone and swipe. Cain Cruz has uploaded the photo of us to Instagram with the caption, Suspicious, ladies and gents? Look at those lovers' eyes. You'll see by how the so-called bogeyman No Rust reacts that I'm DEAD on the money .

"What an ass," Brad says, laughing as he looks down at the post.

"I guess he's just trying to be a showman," I say, desperate for a change of topic.

"He's just throwing crap at the wall and seeing what sticks."

"Yes, yes, yes," Marquis says, looking at me like he's noticing something and piecing it all together. I stare at the floor, feeling a shimmer inside of me, like a taunt. Like our baby is laughing at the mess we're making.

Rust opens the door to his dressing room, looking around at us with a forced smirk. He's trying to make light of it, but it's not working. We can all feel the genuine rage flaring in him.

"Rust, are you calm, yes?" Marquis approaches. "Are you healthy?"

"Healthy?" Rust says in disgust.

"In the mind," Marquis goes on. "You cannot let this man get to you just because he's the only man who's defeated you. Is that it?"

Rust glances at me. I almost bite my lip to relieve some of the tension. Eye contact feels like a promise to us, a whole universe of want.

"Dead on the money," Rust says, sighing, lying. I know how badly he wants to tell the truth. The storm tattoo burns against my shoulder like it's joining in with the baby's taunting.

"You cannot let those thoughts win," Marquis says sternly. "Those whispers and your doubts, tell me, what good do they do for you?"

"I never have any doubts." Rust glances at me again. "Not usually."

What does that mean? What is he doubting? Us? It probably says something crazy about me that my instinct is to be outraged at the idea of him doubting steaminess—and a life, a future—with his best friend's sister is bad. Of course, he's doubting it.

"He's doubting because you split your legs open on your first night together," Mom snaps hatefully in my mind.

"Time for training," Rust says.

"Yes, we train. Brad, would you like to come to the gym?"

"Yeah, sure."

"I'll wait at the hotel," I say. "I'll just get a cab. I'm not feeling well."

The truth is, I can't be around Rust training again. I can't sit on the sidelines as the sweat drips all over his body, his shirt molding to him, outlining his ferocious muscles. Not after he cheered about us having a baby together, not after the steam.

"Are you sure?" Brad asks, wincing. He thinks it's about yesterday and the argument.

"Yeah, really."

What sort of sister am I, letting him think it's about that? But don't I still have a right to be mad that he lied and eavesdropped? No. Hell no. I don't have the right to be angry about anything he ever does again.

"This is blowing up, " Chrissy says on video chat, beaming, with no idea how badly it's making me cringe. "It's crazy. If you take a screenshot of a video, you can tell any story you want, can't you?"

"Seems that way," I mutter, biting my nail.

"I'm surprised you've got any fingernails left. Did you finally do the you-know-what?"

"I thought you would ask me about that right away."

"I don't want to push you," she says. "No offense, but you look a little crazy."

I grin shakily. She doesn't know about Mom, what I learned, what I've known in my heart for years. "I feel a little crazy, too. So it fits."

"Did you do the test?"

"Yep. It's positive. I'm pregnant, and…"

She waits patiently for me to go on, but this voice in my head tells me to stay quiet and stop. Maybe there's something good that can come from this. I can finally stop listening to that voice. Stop letting fear trap me.

"Mary?"

I lower my voice, even though I know Brad is at the gym with Rust.

"Rust is the father. Oh, and I've had a crush on him for years. Mom left me this weird video about being pure and never sinning, but I have sinned and want to do it again and again."

"Wait, Mary, hold up." Chrissy is leaning over her desk, her elbows on the table, holding her head. "Just wait a second. One at a time."

"Rust took my virginity the night of the storm, and he gave me a tattoo."

"A tattoo?"

"He's going to be a tattoo artist after he retires. I know it's surprising, but he seems to like it. He can't fight forever."

He'll be retired by the time the baby is five or six. They probably won't even remember his fighting days. They'll never have to worry about Daddy getting hurt in a cage.

"Um… can I see?" She sounds like she's picked this question from a possible pool of hundreds.

"Sure."

I pull my shirt down a little, then angle my phone. "You got that?"

"Why a thundercloud? Oh, duh, because of the storm, and it was thundering the night…"

"Mom committed suicide."

"Wait, what?"

"Oh yeah," I sigh. "Brad finally told me last night."

"You've mentioned having suspicions, but that's so different from knowing. I'm so sorry."

I pull up my shirt, sitting on the bed, knees to my chest. "I just wish everything would slow down. When Brad told me, Rust was hiding in the bathroom."

"What?"

"Yeah. We'd just… done stuff. Not sex, but he wanted to. I did, too, but I had to tell him about the baby."

"You told him?" Chrissy says. "Did he freak?"

"No," I reply, an offended note in my voice. "He cheered and spun me around, but that was before he had to hide. Then, after the news, I kind of yelled at him and made him leave."

"That was probably smart with Brad next door," she mutters.

"But I don't want him to go. Ever. He was happy about the baby."

"So you're going to raise a family together, are you?"

"You don't have to say it like it's impossible."

Chrissy frowns, then fixes her bangs. "What did you say about a video of your mom?"

"Oh yeah," I almost laugh. I've just unloaded years of tension. I feel lighter, even if I've told the wrong person. "You know how she was super religious? Well, she left me a two-hour DVD about being pure, the perfect woman, modest, and all that."

"If you were going to be that, you'd never speak your mind; speaking your mind is your specialty. Just look at that video!"

I feel myself beaming despite the nerves, despite the sense of doom lingering over everything all the time. "Yeah, okay, fair point."

"Wait, what else does this video say? Is there anything about women being quiet and reserved?"

"I'm mostly reserved."

"Yeah, until one of your awesome outbursts. Sorry, hon, but I don't see it."

I laugh again like only Chrissy can make me, though the guilt still persists. Mom tries to slither into my mind and sneer at me.

"It's so confusing," I say. "I loved Mom so much. She was so perfect when I was a kid. She was like an angel, but in the video, sometimes…"

"You don't have to feel bad for saying this," Chrissy adds quickly, as though reading my mind.

"It's like she's a different person. She gets mean and erratic. She calls me a slut . Well, she says I am a slut-in-waiting . I could become a slut if I'm not careful. Stuff like that."

"I'm sorry, Mary. I know she's your mom, but I think that's crap. You're not a slut for being with Rust. It's not a sin . I won't lie. It's wrong. Seriously wrong. I think it could blow up, but it's not wrong for that reason."

"For Brad," I mutter. "Breaking his heart. Ruining his life when he's already sacrificed so much for me."

"What are you going to do?" Chrissy asks.

"I don't know. Rust wanted to tell Brad as soon as it happened. He wanted to do the right thing. I guess he's just way more honorable than me. I know it's the right thing to do. When Brad almost caught us yesterday, Rust said we should tell him then , but I couldn't just drop it on him like that. Or maybe that's an excuse. I don't know. It feels so difficult to do the right thing, but am I really trying?"

"I think you'll have to tell him eventually unless you're going to get rid of the?—"

"I can't," I tell her, moving a hand across my belly. "As soon as Rust spun me around the room and I saw how happy he was, I knew I couldn't. Even before that… No, never. I don't think I could ever do that. I love them already."

"A baby at eighteen." She blows out a long breath. "That's a lot to ask of a person."

"I'll be nineteen by then," I say, trying to laugh, but it sounds all wrong.

"Do you think you can handle it?" she asks.

"If it weren't for Brad, I'd say yes, but what if my baby's uncle hates his dad? What if Brad and Rust can't ever be in the same room together? What if Brad disowns me?"

"I don't think he'd do that," Chrissy says, but she doesn't sound anywhere near certain. How could she be? This is uncharted territory for both of us. "What does Rust think about the age gap?"

I sigh. "He basically thinks it makes him a perv. He hasn't come right out and said that, but that's the vibe I get."

Pausing, I listen for sounds of movement in the next room. As usual, I feel like the crappiest person in the world for worrying about sneaking around right now, but that's what I've lowered myself to. "You sinful…"

"Hey, where are you going?" Chrissy says, even snapping her fingers. "You just got this spaced-out look in your eye."

"I was thinking about Mom," I admit.

"Hold on a hot second," Chrissy says. "When you get that look, you're thinking about the video she left?"

"Yeah, sort of. I also imagine what she'd say to me."

"You hear her voice?"

"Not literally . I'm not nuts, but I've watched the video so many times that I can hear that voice in my head. I can imagine what she'd say in certain situations based on lessons she tried to teach me."

"And… is any of it good?"

I swallow, not wanting to admit this. "No, it's mostly judgmental. Everything I do is wrong. That's how it feels, but I loved her."

"Hey, I know. I'd never doubt that, but this has been a lot for you to carry. You were saying Rust feels like a perv?"

"He acts like he should be ashamed. He thinks I'm much less mature than him, like I can't be trusted to make decisions. Then he fucks me anyway, and we do other stuff."

"You're right. It is a lot. I don't think you need to rush into anything. You've got—what—months until you start showing, right? Take it slow. Breathe , girl. You need to sort through one problem at a time. What's bothering you right now?"

"I guess, Brad. It's awkward between us."

"So focus on that for the next few hours—one thing at a time. Then, later, you and Rust can talk. You can figure out what you're going to do."

"There are only two options: end it or tell Brad."

Chrissy nods. "Then you need to tell Brad."

I fold my arms, squeezing them tightly, my thoughts flashing with all the possible reactions. None of them are good. "He sacrificed everything for me," I say, "and this is how I repay him. He could've played college football, but he stayed behind for me. For me ."

"It's already done," Chrissy says softly. "You made that choice when you made love and when he tattooed you. Now you have to deal with the consequences."

I sit back. "What do you think, then? Is Rust a creep? Remember how hot you used to find him?"

"Hey, that's not fair. I didn't know how you felt, and for the record, I'm not into older men anymore."

"Neither am I," I mutter. "It's not because he's older. It's because he's Rust."

"It is a big age gap," she says. "Thirteen years. Plus, he's known you almost his whole life. People might think?—"

"Ew, don't even say that," I snap. "That's gross and so not Rust. I was waiting for him to notice me for years. I was praying for it. You know what crushes are like, but he never did until the storm. Well, it was before that, he said. The first time was a few months ago."

"When we were still in school?" She sucks in a breath. "I don't know, Mary."

"What don't you know? " I can't stop the acid from entering my voice, the pain at the idea that this could be anything other than good, anything other than the right thing.

"Just hitting on high schoolers isn't exactly a green flag."

"He wasn't hitting on me. Anyway, don't tell anyone, but he was a virgin before we met."

Now, Chrissy can't hide her derision. She rolls her eyes. " Really? Did he tell you this?"

"He's not lying," I snap. "We shared that moment together. He's never been interested in anyone. It's Rust . He was like a robot before…" We fell in love , I almost say, which would be downright deranged. It's like the pregnancy hormones are already messing with my emotions.

"I find that very hard to believe," Chrissy says. "My older sister and all her friends used to gush over him in high school. He's a friggin celebrity."

"He was a virgin," I tell her. "There's a special connection between us. I know that makes me sound na?ve, but it's true. That moment when I told him about the baby, and he was spinning me around, was perfect. It was the happiest I've ever been. It's not about age. It's about us . I don't want older men. He doesn't want a younger woman. I want him. He wants me."

I'm almost crying, my thoughts alight with visions of the future, holding the baby and looking over to see my man there, Brad standing at his shoulders, my baby's uncle and father, so happy to meet them finally. It's all happiness, all warmth. My tattoo glows and pulses just thinking about it.

Rubbing my cheeks, I try to force the tears away and the silly, tempting dreams of the future. None of that can happen unless we tell Brad, and if we do that?—

I can't even think about it. "That's not the issue," I go on. "Rust and I would be together if it weren't for Brad. I know it."

"Even if he thinks you can't make your own decisions?" Chrissy mutters.

"I think it's just my age freaking him out. He thinks I'm na?ve. Maybe I am a little, but what if I want to grow with him? Be with him?"

"You mean get married?"

I shrug, trying to make light of it, but a sparkle moves through me, washing away the pain. Get married . I walk down the aisle like in a fairy tale; the love pumps in my heart. Brad stands at the front as Rust's best man. Chrissy is my maid of honor. There's so much happiness and light.

"Well, yeah, maybe," I say like it's no big deal.

"Does he want anything long-term?" she asks.

"When I told him about the baby, he picked me up, swung me around, and cheered , Chrissy."

"He could've been happy to be a dad, but…"

"But not necessarily want to be with me?"

Chrissy frowns. "I'm sorry. I don't want to ruin this for you. I just don't want you to get hurt. You're going through a lot right now. Heck, I wish I was there with you."

"This has been enough, just talking it through, getting some perspective. At least it's not just eating away at me anymore. I don't know how I'm ever going to deal with this, though, honestly. It's all such a tangled mess, and now Cain Cruz has Brad talking about it like it's a joke."

"But he hasn't heard the real punchline yet," she says, like she can feel my pain. She knows how close Brad and I are. She's seen it for years.

"I guess none of this will matter if he doesn't want to be with me," I say, unable to keep the spite out of my voice.

Chrissy sighs. "I'm just looking out for you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I want him to want me so badly."

"That's what scares me. I've never seen you like this before. It's like you're the saddest, happiest, and maddest you've ever been all at once."

"Yeah, that's pretty much how it feels."

"So take it slowly," Chrissy says. "Learn all the facts. There's no rush. You've got months until it shows."

"Thanks," I tell her, so grateful for her support. Despite everything, it's like a black cloud has parted just a little, letting in some sunlight. I'm not going through this alone. That's something. "Thank you for everything. How's college?"

"Do you really want to talk about college?"

I lean forward, wiping my cheeks. My eyes feel sore and puffy from all the crying. "Yes, actually, I do! I don't want it to be all me, me, me. "

"But you, you, you are the one going through an actual crisis right now. It's way more eventful than my week."

"Tell me anyway."

Chrissy grins. "Okay, don't blame me when you go nutso with boredom. So there's this one girl in the introductory class, right?"