by Devney Perry
My mind whirled, and the only word I came up with was “Huh?”
“Didn’t the doctor explain all of this to you when she delivered your results?”
“I’m sure she did.” To Adam. My blood started to boil. “I guess I must have missed it. Thanks so much for your time today.”
“My pleasure. And again, congratulations. I’ll expect to see a baby announcement.”
“You got it.” I ended the call, then tossed my phone into the passenger seat.
Poor sperm quality? Limited motility? Adam had a fertility problem?
“Gah!” I screamed, my hands strangling the steering wheel.
How could he have kept this from me? How could he have led me to believe that it was all my fault we couldn’t have children?
I cranked the key in the car, revving the engine as I screeched out of the parking lot. I was fuming mad, but I resisted the urge to stomp on the gas and speed down the highway toward Lark Cove.
All through the divorce, I’d been plagued with guilt, and at the time, I’d felt defective.
“Damn you, Adam.” Damn you.
How could he deceive me like this, yet claim to love me? He’d held me in his arms those nights I’d cried myself to sleep. He’d dried my tears with his thumbs. He’d kissed my puffy eyes, telling me I was still the most beautiful woman in the world.
Had that all been a lie too?
I pulled up his number on my phone, fuming as it rang twice.
“Hel—”
“You’re an asshole!” I shouted before he had a chance to utter another syllable. “How could you have lied to me about this? How could you have kept something like this from me?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You told me it was my problem. That I was the reason we couldn’t have a baby. But that’s not exactly true, is it? And do you know how I know it was all a lie? Because I’m pregnant!”
“You’re-you’re pregnant?” he stuttered.
“Is this why you wanted to get back together? Is this why you fought so fucking hard for our divorce? So I wouldn’t learn the truth?”
“Pip—”
“Don’t,” I snapped, cutting him short. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say. I want to hate you for doing this to me. I want to hate you for the way you’ve made me feel for the last three years. I want to, but I won’t.”
The anger in my voice disappeared as my free hand went back to my belly. “Because of your lies, I get the greatest gift I could have ever dreamed of. I get to be a mother. I won’t hate you, but I will never think of you again.”
My thumb squashed the button to end the call, and I immediately pulled over on the side of the road so I could retrieve my phone lying on the other seat. With fast strokes, I pulled up Adam’s name and blocked his number.
In a deceptive and cruel way, Adam had given me a gift.
In an accidental way, so had Kaine.
Kaine.
“Oh, hell.” My stomach rolled for the first time since I’d left the doctor’s office and it had nothing to do with morning sickness.
I had to figure out a way to explain to Kaine that I could, in fact, have children.
And that I was having his baby.
I shut off the belt sander and popped my safety glasses up on my head. Then I brushed away the dust on the board in front of me, testing its texture with a swipe of my fingers.
“Not quite.” This piece of white oak would be the top to an end table, so the finish needed to be as smooth as satin.
I flipped my glasses back down, but before I could start up the sander again, a voice rang through the shop.
“Knock, knock.” Piper was standing in the large bay door that I’d opened this afternoon to keep the shop from getting too hot.
“Hey.” I slid my glasses off and wiped my dusty hands on my pants. “Not working today?”
She shook her head and stepped inside. “Got a sec?”
“Sure. What’s up? Feeling any better?”
“Um . . . not really.” Her hand went to her stomach and her face got green. She lifted a finger. “Be right back.”
“Can I hel—”
She shook her head, then spun around and darted out of the shop.
I hurried after her, reaching the door just in time to see her hurl in a bush.
“What can I do?” I asked.
“Get me a water. And don’t come over here.” She retched again.
“Okay.” I went back inside and to my mini fridge. I took out a bottle of water and waited for her to come back.
I hadn’t seen Piper much since the day I’d helped move her into the new house. She’d been sick, so I’d given her some space. One thing I’d learned was that she did not like me to see her vomit. And if I was being honest with myself, I’d used her stomach bug as an excuse to avoid her.
It had been a strange day, getting her moved into that house. Mostly because it was the first time I’d met her friends. The Kendricks were nice people, but something about meeting them had been too intimate. Piper had introduced me as her neighbor, which was true. But I hadn’t missed the way Thea looked at us. She saw Piper and me as a couple.
Because we looked like a couple.
There was nothing casual about our relationship. We’d drifted from occasional hookups in an Airstream to me stopping by Piper’s house last night to make sure she was drinking enough water because I didn’t want her to get dehydrated.
The right thing to do would be to take a step back, talk to Piper about establishing some boundaries.
She didn’t need to cook for me every night. I didn’t need to be included in activities with her friends.
Especially when Thea and Logan had their kids along.
Seeing their baby daughter had brought on a slew of emotions I just wasn’t ready to deal with yet. Over the last couple of months, Piper had shifted my focus. Instead of dwelling on the past and reliving the pain each day, she’d consumed my thoughts. She’d made me feel and, in a way, forget.
Then Camila Kendrick had brought it all back. That little girl was gorgeous with her dark eyes and dark hair. My daughter would have been just as beautiful. She would have had that same mesmerizing laugh. Her chubby fists would have looked so perfect clinging to the collar of my shirt, like Camila’s had to Logan’s. I would have bought her tiny shoes and an adorable pink romper too.
Camila was painful to be around, so I’d escaped to my shop. Piper had noticed, but she hadn’t brought it up.
Should I tell Piper about my baby girl? If I were to confide in anyone, it would be Piper. She’d become the best friend I’d ever had.
She laughed a lot. She made me laugh a lot. And I trusted her.
“Sorry.” Piper shuffled into the shop, her face pale. She’d pulled a piece of gum from her mouth and was chewing it furiously.
“It’s okay.” I took her the water and escorted her to the replacement chair I’d made for my porch. It was finished, flawless this time around, and I only needed to stain it to match its companion. “Sit down and just take it easy.”
She sat and took a few deep breaths as she sipped her water. When she lifted her eyes to mine, the fear in them kicked my heart into overdrive. “I, uh . . . I’ve been trying to think of the best way to tell you this.”
“What?”
She blew out a long breath and dropped her gaze to her lap but didn’t speak.
My stomach plummeted in the silence. She must be here to talk about our relationship. Maybe she wanted more, or maybe she was going to end it. Either way, my defensive instincts roared to life.
If she wanted to end us, I was going to do it first. And if she wanted a commitment, I was shutting that down immediately.
I refused to put myself in a position where I could lose everything again. Where another person had the power to destroy me. Piper was approaching that line already and it was time to push her back.
“We should talk about us.”
Her chin lifted
. “Huh?”
“Us. We should talk about us.” I took the glasses off my head and tossed them over to a table. “That’s what you’re here for, right? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it too. We’ve drifted too far from casual. It’s been fun, but maybe the best thing would be for us to spend some time apart. Get some distance.”
The bullshit spewed out of my mouth so fast I shocked myself.
Piper blinked a couple of times, her mouth slightly agape.
“I’d like to stay friends, if you’re good with it. But I don’t want to make you uncom—”
She held up a hand. “Please, stop talking.”
I shut up.
“Could you sit down?”
I grabbed the old office stool that I wheeled around the shop and sat next to her side.
“I didn’t come here to talk about our relationship.” She swallowed hard. “I need to tell you something.” Her chest rose as she inhaled, then caved as her breath came out in a whoosh. “I’m pregnant.”
My muscles went limp. Every single one of them, and I fell off my stool, my ass slamming onto the concrete floor.
“Kaine!” Piper shot out of her chair, rushing over to me. “Are you okay?”
I shook off the paralyzing shock and let Piper help me up onto unsteady legs, then onto the stool again. It took a few moments for my brain to come unscrambled. “You’re pregnant?”
She nodded. “I went to the doctor this morning.”
“I thought you couldn’t get pregnant.”
“Neither did I,” she whispered.
“It’s mine?”
She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that question.”
I huffed. She was pregnant. With my baby. A rush of panic hit, chasing away the remaining shock. I shot off my stool, sending it flying sideways. “What the fuck, Piper!”
“Don’t you yell at me.”
I ran a hand over my beard, pacing back and forth. “How did this happen?”
“Adam lied to me about my fertility test results. I had some problems, but so did he. That was why we couldn’t get pregnant. Because of him. I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know?” I scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
I stopped pacing and shot her a glare. “You said we were covered.”
“And I was wrong.”
Wrong? Wrong was so mild a word for this situation. This was my worst nightmare. This was everything I never wanted to feel again barreling down on me so fast I couldn’t breathe.
How could she have let this happen? How could I have let this happen? I should have taken more precautions. I should have insisted on condoms.
I should have never trusted Piper.
“Did you do this on purpose?” I asked. “Did you just use me because your husband couldn’t give you a kid?”
My words slapped her so hard, her entire body flinched. “You asshole. How could you even think that about me?”
“Can you blame me? It seems awfully convenient for you. You use me and get what you always wanted.”
“Fuck you.” Her face turned hard as stone. The spark in her eyes died, and she looked at me like I was nothing but the dust under her expensive shoes.
She could glare at me all she wanted because I didn’t give a fuck. I had a right to ask these questions. I had a right to know the extent of her betrayal.
Because after all, that’s what everyone did, didn’t they?
They betrayed me.
“I didn’t plot this.” Her voice was cold. “Do you think I want to have a baby with a man who I’ve known for only months? A man who I know nothing about? A man who is so determined to keep me out that he won’t even sleep in my bed after he fucks me? This is not the ideal situation, believe me. But it’s happening.”
It was happening.
It was happening all over again.
“I’m sorry for dropping this on you.” Piper squared her shoulders. “It was just as big a shock to me. But I won’t lie and say I don’t want this baby. I’m going to give you some time. We can talk later.”
Her footsteps grew distant as she made her way to the door. When they disappeared, I gave into the crushing pain and dropped to my knees.
I couldn’t go through this again.
I couldn’t.
So I shut it all out, like I’d taught myself to do years ago. I let the numbness soak into my bones. I let the darkness chase away the fear and pain. I let the light Piper had brought into my life be smothered by the black.
My knees were bruised by the time I shoved myself off the floor, then mindlessly walked home. I pushed open the door, but my feet wouldn’t go inside. The haven I’d built up here wasn’t safe anymore. It was tainted with memories of Piper.
I saw her sitting at my table, eating magic cake. I saw her in my living room, appraising my furniture with a quiet smile. I saw her in the kitchen, making me cinnamon rolls.
I pictured her, pregnant with our child, trapped in a crumpled car as life seeped out of her body in a crimson stream.
The need to flee hit me hard and I backed away from the door.
The same need had consumed me three years ago, after a funeral.
I’d left my entire life behind in the middle of the night, never looking back. I drove aimlessly until I got so tired, my drooping eyelids forced me to stop. I slept in my truck on the side of the highway, and the next morning when I woke up, I saw the sign welcoming me to Lark Cove.
It was as good a place as any to get lost.
For weeks, I ignored countless messages from Mom begging me to return home. I asked a buddy to take care of my house. Rent it. Sell it. Burn it down. I didn’t care. And I begged the landlord of my former shop to get out of my lease, then ship me my tools.
I used their pity as leverage. It made running away all too easy because they all agreed to help me without question.
I endured being a part of society for as long as it took to find and close on my house. Then I shut out the world for the worst few months of my life.
Eventually, the phone calls, texts and emails from Mom stopped. Friends forgot about me, or at least, they clued into the fact that I wasn’t coming back. People stopped trying to rescue me and just left me to my grief.
When it subsided to the point where I was able to breathe again, work became my first priority. I needed the familiar tasks, the distraction—the money. So I called some old clients, drummed up some business and got busy.
Work and solitude weren’t going to save me this time, but that didn’t stop me from getting in my truck and driving the hell away from Lark Cove.
I was lost in my own fears. I didn’t think about the road or where I was headed. I just drove and let the memories from the past keep my foot on the gas pedal.
No matter how many miles I drove, the voices in my head haunted me.
I’m pregnant.
One statement but two different voices. Shannon’s voice had been so soft. Piper’s had been strong and sure, even though she’d been nervous.
There was an accident.
I’d hardly recognized Mom’s voice as she’d called from the hospital.
We tried to save the baby, but we lost them both.
The doctor’s hoarse voice was burned into my brain. I heard it in my nightmares. Just like I heard the muffled sounds of a hospital floor as I sat behind a closed door with a lifeless baby in my arms.
I’d begged the doctor to let me hold her, just once. He’d hesitated at first because of how small and discolored she’d looked, but when I’d pleaded again, he’d ultimately relented.
She’d been so tiny and precious. Most of her face had been hidden in that pink blanket, but she’d been so peaceful as she’d rested against my chest. She would have been a beautiful child.
Oncoming headlights on the black highway caught my attention. I’d driven for so long that the sun was just disappearing behind the horizon. I
shifted in my seat, switching hands on the steering wheel as the other car came my way.
Its low beams flashed as they crested a bump, and the flicker was enough to catch a streak as it bounded for the road.
A deer.
It ran full speed, barely crossing the centerline as the other car whizzed by. Its hooves and spindle legs staggered on the asphalt as it scrambled to get out of my lane. But I was going too fast and it wasn’t fast enough.
My truck crushed its innocent body.
“Goddamn it.” I pressed the brake, slowing down and veering off to the shoulder. I shoved the truck in park, unclipped my seatbelt and hustled outside. Behind me, the carcass was lying in the shallow ditch that ran along the highway.
I approached, knowing exactly what I’d find. Even in the twilight hour, I saw blood sprayed across the pavement. Raw guts and broken bones were not in their rightful place.
“Son of a bitch.” I cursed and walked back to inspect my truck, leaving the animal for the varmints.
There was a clump of hair wedged into a joint of the grill guard, but the thick steel bars had served their purpose. Deer were a major hazard on Montana roads, and it was better to hit one than swerve and risk crashing into another car or rolling your own.
That didn’t make it any easier to stomach.
I hung my head and climbed back in my truck, continuing down the road. Another life lost. The guilt of killing that animal gnawed at me as I drove. It took the place of the fear and pain I’d been reliving for hours.
Where was I? I didn’t have my phone—I didn’t have anything, not even my wallet. I was lucky that I’d run away with a full tank of gas. A green sign came into view and my headlights reflected the white letters.
Ahead was a junction. If I took a right, it would wind me around to Lark Cove. If I took a left, it would take me somewhere I’d avoided for too long.
Home.
I turned left.
I arrived in the dead of night, standing outside the house where I’d grown up. The porch light cast a soft glow my direction. The trees in the front yard, the ones I’d planted in high school as saplings, were nearly as tall as the power lines. The siding that had been white when I’d left was now gray. The front door was a dark red instead of denim blue.