by James, Marie
“You motherfucker!” I roar as I storm across the room and punch him right in the nose.
I don’t stop when the blood starts flowing. I hit him over and over and over until I’m overpowered by several guys on the team. I’m seething, breaths coming out in rough, uneven pants as they all stare at me.
“What the fuck, Benson!” Linc hisses.
“You don’t treat another teammate that way,” a guy behind me adds.
I spin in a circle, looking every single one of them in the eye before I speak as calmly as I can manage. “Fuck each of you and fuck this stupid team.”
I walk out of the locker room without looking back. I scan the parking lot for Piper’s car or Dalton’s truck, but neither are here this early. I’m on edge, ready to burn the entire world down. I can’t stay here today. I can’t face another day of Frankie avoiding me.
I climb in my truck, slamming the door closed with way more force than necessary, but instead of cranking it and barreling out of the parking lot like I want to, I grip the steering wheel and take long, deep breaths, slowing my heart rate as best as I can.
Getting into an accident is the last thing I want. Even if Frankie isn’t talking to me. Even if she wants nothing to do with me. I still have a baby on the way, and I’m bound and determined to be a good dad. I won’t be one that ignores signs and symptoms. I won’t be one that feels the need to man up instead of going to the doctor. I won’t be the kind of man that leaves his family behind because he’s too stubborn.
When I don’t feel the urge to drive my truck off a ravine, I crank it and head home. Thankfully, Mom found a local job with Frankie’s mom’s help and she isn’t home when I return.
Stupidly, I never got Frankie’s number, but there’s no way I can go back to campus and force her to talk to me. That’s a recipe for disaster, so I try to take a roundabout way of getting ahold of her. She doesn’t have any active social media, which is weird in today’s world, but after seeing the way people treat her at school, it isn’t surprising either.
Piper doesn’t seem like the type of friend that would betray Frankie by giving her number out, but Dalton is a guy and must understand where I’m coming from, even if the only interaction we’ve had was him punching me twice for upsetting his girlfriend.
I shoot him a message in Instagram.
Me: Give me Frankie’s number.
It’s hours before he responds, and his message makes me see as much red as I did in the locker room.
Dalton: No.
Somehow I manage not to throw my phone against the wall and shatter it.
Me: Can you give her my number and ask her to call me, please?
I add my number to the message, but he doesn’t send me another one to confirm one way or the other.
Anxiety makes me restless. I need to see her. I need to speak with her. I need to apologize and tell her everything even though the thought of her rejecting me makes me want to run and hide like a small dog afraid of a raging thunderstorm outside.
It’s the rejection I fear the most. Frankie is incredible. She’s smart and compassionate. She’s going to be an amazing mother, but most important of all, she doesn’t even need me to make that happen.
And what have I proven to her? Nothing, only that I’m capable of walking away when she needs me the most.
That night in Utah seems like a thousand years in the past. A thousand nights of going to sleep without her. A thousand breaths we haven’t shared. A thousand prayers gone unanswered. And all of that distance, all of that time lost is because of me.
“You’re a fool,” I tell my reflection as I sit on the end of my double bed. “A complete idiot.”
I can’t stand the sight of myself, so I flop back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Our new house is exactly what you’d expect for a lower income area. It’s not bad. It’s just basic. Basic light fixtures, plastic overlay for the shower in the single bathroom, no tub. There’s no real yard to speak of, the complete opposite of the house we stayed in on Mrs. Jacobson’s property.
But I wouldn’t go back to Utah if I could. My life is here now. Wherever Frankie is, is where I need to be, even if I’m going to be forced to watch her from afar.
God, I could kill Vaughn and every other guy in that locker room for even suggesting hooking up with her.
I’m seconds away from going back to the school to beat Vaughn’s ass again when my phone rings.
“What?” I snap, answering without even looking at the phone.
“And you wonder why she wants nothing to do with you?”
I clamp my teeth together at Dalton’s familiar voice. I haven’t interacted much with him, but I hear them talking all the time in Frankie’s room. Apparently Piper and Dalton aren’t supposed to be dating, and since they live so close to each other, they spend time together at Frankie’s to keep out of the watchful eye of Piper’s dad.
“Maybe you should mind your own business,” I hiss.
His chuckle coming through the line makes me want to snap his neck. I didn’t hit him back when he punched me because I knew I had it coming, but I’m too damn on edge to let anything go this time around.
“Frankie is my business,” he says.
Yep, that’s enough to make me sit up and reach for my boots.
“Frankie is mine.”
“Because she’s pregnant?”
I shouldn’t be shocked. Of course, he knows. The entire school knows thanks to Bronwyn and her group of friends.
All the anger drains out of me as if I’ve been shot with a full magazine of bullets.
“I fucked up,” I mutter.
“Big time,” Dalton says, drilling the point home. “And if you want to be anything more than a sperm donor, you need to get your shit together.”
“I don’t even know where to start,” I confess. “She won’t talk to me. She won’t even look at me.”
“You expected anything different?” This guy isn’t cutting me any slack. “You hurt that girl.”
I don’t even open my mouth. Everything he’s saying is true.
“But fortunately for you, I know a thing or two about messing up big time and having to beg for forgiveness.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Silence fills my ear as he pauses before answering. “Because I see the way you look at her when you don’t think anyone is watching.”
A lump forms in my throat.
“What should I do?”
“Get her back.”
I shake my head again. Is this guy dense? Did he not just listen to me telling him she won’t even give me the time of day?
“How?” I hiss.
“Actions speak louder than words.”
The phone goes dead.
I appreciate his help, but damn, he could’ve thrown me a bone or something. I don’t even know where to start. Frankie is pregnant with my kid, and that’s huge, but I doubt flowers and candy are going to win me any points. She deserves a grand gesture, but I don’t even know where to start.
Actions speak louder than words.
Dalton’s statement echoes in my head all damn night, but I wake up the next day determined to make that girl see that she means the world to me. I’m over letting my own stubbornness get in between the two of us.
Chapter 42
Frankie
“It’s going to be fine,” Piper assures me as we make our way into the school and head for our lockers. “It’s yesterday’s news.”
I want to believe her, but people are lined up and down the hallway, ceasing their conversations when we walk by.
Dalton snapping at the people yesterday when the stuff fell out of my locker helped some, but there are still small groups that no longer bow to his anger. He ruled this school last year, and from the way people are chatting and laughing as we walk by, it’s evident he no longer holds the highest rank at Westover Prep.
“Everyone is staring at us,” I mutter.
“They’re staring at me,” Dalton says w
ith a quick grin. “They can’t get over how amazing my new haircut is.”
“It is hot,” Piper adds with a wicked grin of her own as she looks around me.
Dalton and Piper have me sandwiched between them, and by doing so, I’m softening a little more to the boy who used to make our daily lives a living hell. Dalton having my back at school is the last thing I thought would ever happen, but here he is, staying close and keeping an eye on me. It makes me wonder if Hell has frozen over, but I know that isn’t the case with everyone’s heated glares burning into my face.
As we walk, I can feel their eyes sweep down the length of my body, stopping first on my stomach before looking into my eyes to confirm the truth. I didn’t deny it in the hallway yesterday, so that’s as good as a confession.
Staying at school yesterday was brutal, just like waking up this morning and returning has been. Zeke didn’t bother to come to first period yesterday, and he wasn’t in the cafeteria for lunch either. By the time I made it to Algebra, it was clear that he had left school altogether.
He can’t even face me, and it makes my blood boil to think that he blames me for getting pregnant. I’m the one who demanded the condom that night. He’s the one who couldn’t be bothered with wearing it. If anyone has a right to be mad, it’s me.
“Now isn’t the time, Benson,” Dalton snaps.
My entire body tenses, using precious energy I don’t have.
“Frankie,” Zeke breathes as he steps closer.
I can’t look up at him. Doing so would only bring another rush of tears, and I’ve cried enough over the last couple of days for this boy. He’s breaking me, and he doesn’t even care. He’s unaffected, and that hurts most of all.
I thought things would be different. The look on his face when he was pacing my room holding on to the test that sealed both of our fates made me believe for the briefest of moments that although he was scared, he was ready to face this challenge with me. Then I made him leave, but he took it a step further by packing his things and disappearing.
I just needed a moment alone, a little time to wrap my head around the million changes going on in my body and the destruction of the future I’ve been spending most of my life planning. It’s a lot to think about, and doing so with him panting and seething in front of me wasn’t helping.
“Frankie,” he repeats when I don’t look up at him. “Please, can we talk?”
I shake my head, keeping my eyes focused into the shallow depths of my locker. Tears burn my eyes, but yesterday after a pep talk from Piper in the restroom, I decided I’d never let the idiots in this school see me cry again.
“Hey.” Zeke curls a finger under my chin, forcing me to look up at him, but his touch is gentle, as is the look in his hazel eyes when our gazes meet. “God, you’re so pretty.”
I swallow thickly, knowing that he’s lying because I look a mess. I barely brushed my hair this morning, and the dark circles under my eyes show no sign of fading anytime soon, but he looks sincere as he peers down at me.
Unable to focus on the pleading look in his eyes, I drop my attention to his lips. I loved the way those lips kissed me, loved the way they whispered my name that night, loved the way he smiled at me while we ate chili dogs at the county fair, but I’m no fool. I also remember the way those perfect lips curled up in anger before they aided him in saying hurtful things. I remember those very lips drawing me in before cutting me down.
I’ll never forget what those lips have done, and it’s that dichotomy that leaves me confused when they tilt up in a small smile.
His fingers leave my chin, and like a love-sick moron, I miss the contact, but then he brushes a wild strand of hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. Before I can stop myself, I lean into his touch. I live for the times he’s nice to me, but it’s knowing what comes after that makes my back stiffen again.
He doesn’t miss the way my face grows rigid or the half step back I take to put a little space between the two of us. The push and pull is over for me. I won’t fall for his handsome smile, or the way his eyes sparkle as he watches me any longer. I may not get his love and affection, but I don’t deserve the ire that follows so shortly after either.
And in this moment, in this exact second in time, I’m grateful for the gift he’s given me. The baby wreaking havoc on my body makes a smile tug at my own lips as excitement warms me from the inside.
I may not have the attention of my parents or the affections of the boy in front of me, but the baby will love me unconditionally, and what an amazing feeling at the prospect of never being rejected, or having the opportunity to wake every day knowing that I’m loved. I’ve never had that before. I’ve never closed my eyes at night knowing that someone cares for me other than Piper, but this will be a different kind of love. I’ll be needed. I’ll be wanted.
Those thoughts make me want to rush through this pregnancy just so I can hold my baby and watch as his or her bright eyes smile up at me.
As if he can read my thoughts, Zeke’s hand lowers from my cheek to the flat of my stomach, and I freeze, my lips trembling as flashes of him taking everything from me filter into my head. I try to take another step back, but I’m trapped between him and my locker.
The warmth of his hand on my stomach is somehow more intimate than what happened in the barn, and when I look up at him with pleading eyes, expecting this to be the moment his lips tug up in a sneer, all I find is a handsome boy with his eyes closed as his fingers caress my lower abdomen over my clothes.
“Be careful, Zeke.” His eyes pop open at hearing Bronwyn’s voice. “She’ll start telling everyone that you’re the daddy.”
The moment, whatever it was is gone. My hands begin to tremble as I reach down to shove his hands away. I expect his anger and insults, but I’ll be damned if he’s going to spit vile things while he’s so close to the miracle we created.
I hold my breath as I wait for him to laugh and walk away with her. My pulse pounds in my ears as I prepare to watch him walk away like he did yesterday when everyone was laughing at me and calling me a whore for being pregnant.
But instead of the heinous look I’m anticipating, Zeke blinks down at me, and for a moment I feel the bubble around us begin to form once more, but I shake my head to dispel it. The last thing I need is to trust the soft look on his face mere moments before his alternate personality, the one that hates me, to arrive. It’s how he’s dragged me in so easily in the past, and those days are done.
My resolve falters when he leans in and presses a faint kiss to my temple before turning around to face the girl that has hurt me more times than I can count by her words alone.
“Bronwyn,” Zeke says as his hand finds my lower stomach once again.
I’m frozen in place, knowing that this is going to be the worst moment of my life, the lowest I’ll ever feel in front of these people.
“This baby is mine.”
My head snaps in his direction, and my skin tingles where the heat of his hand is pressed against my belly.
“And we’re ecstatic.”
Her mouth drops open as a collective gasp echoes down the hall. The whispers and gossiping start immediately, but the only thing I can focus on is the boy standing beside me.
I want to run. I just know this is going to take some kind of turn I’m unable to predict now that he’s floored me. I’m wide open, and this should be the moment that he strikes his hardest, but instead of pulling away, he draws closer, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and walking us past Bronwyn who still hasn’t managed to get over her shock enough to respond.
“Actions,” Dalton says with a smile in his voice as Zeke leads us away from the crowd.
I’m confused and doing my best not to let what just happened consume me, so I let Zeke guide us into an empty room, blinking up at him when the door closes and we’re surrounded by silence.
“Frankie.” His voice is gruff, full of gravel, much the same way it was in that haunted house.
That night se
ems like a lifetime ago, but I still get chills with the memory of it.
Before I can stop him, his fingers are tangled in my hair, and he’s lowering his mouth down to mine. I’m stunned, shocked, and overwhelmed by what just happened. So out of it in fact that I don’t stop him when the warmth of his mouth meets mine.
I let him kiss me, and as shameful as it is to admit, eventually, I kiss him back. I revel in the feel of his lips once again on mine. His hands are gentle as he draws me against his chest. His tongue is seeking and desperate, his breaths escaping his nose in rough pants that are indicative of where this is leading. And God, do I feel like a queen in his arms, but then laughter in the hallway reminds me where we are, and seconds later my brain reboots, reminding me of everything that has happened.
I push against his chest, and shockingly he lets me.
His lips are kiss swollen, his eyes half-lidded as his tongue sneaks out to lick away my taste.
“We can’t,” I mutter, barely resisting the urge to wipe my own mouth on the back of my hand.
He’s too close, too right there, and he fries my brain. He’s been able to do exactly that since the first time I saw him get out of the truck on the ranch. Only now I’m not distracted by the sun glinting off his brown hair or the way his biceps flex when he’s working.
My only focus is the way he’s looking down at me, his eyes saying more than his mouth ever has, but the memory of his hatefulness serves as a constant reminder of what he’s capable of.
“We need to talk,” he whispers as his hand finds the slight curve of my hip.
I nod in agreement because my mouth seems incapable of working right now.
“Let’s ditch,” he suggests.
“I can’t skip.” I don’t mention that I’ll miss too much school in the spring when the baby is born because he probably doesn’t care. Right now, he wants me. Our kiss affected his body much the same way it did in the haunted house, and telling from the bulge straining in his jeans, I know why he wants to leave school, but I’m not going there again with him. The last time left me broken, and it changed my entire life. I’m not willing to make that sacrifice again.