She laughs, and lifts the hem of her cotton tank top. I begin turning my head in the opposite direction—the last thing I want is Chelcie’s perfectly flat stomach imprinted in my mind for all eternity—but the black ink slashing her smooth skin makes me pause. There’s some hideous drawing of a stick figure fairy riding what looks like a unicorn. At least I think it’s a unicorn, it could be a horse with a penis on its head.
“Last night I told him I wanted a tattoo. Jack told me to save my skin.” She shrugs. “I don’t know, though, I’m thinking of having Elijah’s tattoo artist etch over the Sharpie.”
“Well sure, if your plan is to never get laid again,” I say, and then laugh as I look her over. “You should totally do that.”
Chelcie smiles, but it’s not light-hearted like before. “He cares more for you than he likes to let on. Maybe give him a bit of a break?”
My smile quickly disappears. I clear my throat. “He beat the shit out of Coop, for no reason.”
“Not for no reason; for you. Look, I know he can be a bit of a caveman at times, and God knows he isn’t perfect, but he’s worth fighting for, Holly. You’d be hard pressed to find a better man than Jack.”
“That why you’re running away to nowhere?”
“Sometimes you gotta know when to let go of those you love.”
I frown as I search her face. “Even if it means being unhappy?”
“Especially when it means being unhappy. I love him, more than he will ever fully comprehend.” She smiles through a smattering of tears. “But I don’t make him happy. You make him happy. If things had been different between us, if Jack hadn’t been between us, I think I would have liked you, Holly Harris.” Chelcie shrugs. “If you hadn’t been such a cunt, that is.”
I burst out laughing. Perfect, ex-fiancée Chelcie isn’t such an angel after all. “Yeah, I still woulda hated your hair and your perfect arse though.”
“Yeah, and I still woulda hated your opinionated, loud mouth.” She laughs. “Remember what I said, because if I find out you’ve broken his heart I will hunt your pregnant bum down.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“He’s stubborn, and kind of an arse, so don’t let him get away with shit, or he’ll think it’s okay to keep going. And he’s kind of a child when he doesn’t get his own way, but he deserves someone who makes him happy. He deserves someone to love him as much as I think you do.”
“I’m not—”
Jackson clears his throat, and pushes the screen door open. “I couldn’t find it.”
“Sorry.” She pulls her iPhone from her pocket. “I must have had it the whole time.”
He frowns, and glances between us, suspicious. “You all set, then?”
“Yeah.” Chelcie stands, and walks down our short flight of stairs. Jackson tags along behind her. Though I know she said nothing happened, I can’t help but still feel a twinge of jealousy. “So, thanks for having me. I’m glad you’ve found a home here, Jack. I’ll be seeing you.”
He leans in for a huge hug, and I glance away, but not before I see his gaze sweep over me and meet mine. “See ya, Chelc. You drive safe.”
“Sure will. I’ll call you when I get there, just so you know I got home okay.”
“Sounds good.”
“Bye.” She waves, and then she walks her perfect arse to her perfect car, and drives out of our un-perfect lives.
Jack sits down on the seat beside me. His shoulders slump, as he rests his elbows on his knees, and he lets out a long sigh. I can tell he’s hurting that she’s gone, which I don’t really understand. If he feels that way, then why the hell didn’t he just ask her to stay? Maybe his face is hurting from the beating he took. He clears his throat, and says, “You look nice.”
At the same time, I say, “How’s your lip?”
“Hurts like a motherfucker, but I’m a big boy.”
“Well, that’s debatable, Jack.”
“You never had any complaints.”
“That’s not what I meant. I was actually referring to your antics last night.”
“Which ones?”
I just sigh, and shake my head disapprovingly.
Jack picks at a thread on his jeans, avoiding my gaze. “So, where are you off to?”
“Coop’s taking me somewhere to talk.”
“You can’t talk here?”
“Obviously not with you here, no.”
“He afraid of getting his arse kicked again?”
“The way I saw it, you both had your arses kicked by Cade.”
He pinches his thumb and pointer finger together. “I was this close to beating his fucking head in.”
“Nice, Jack. You forgetting that’s the father of my child you’re talking about?”
“Nope. Not for a second.”
“What’s going on with you?” I ask quietly, half-afraid that he might snap, and storm off in a hissy-fit without giving me any real answers. “When did things change between us?”
“You gonna take his sorry arse back?”
My God. It’s like trying to pin down a puppy in a room full of bones. I think I’m getting emotional whiplash.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t have a clue what the right thing is, here.”
“You know you’re not alone, right? You don’t have to move away with him, or be with him just because he’s your emo baby-daddy dipshit. You can stay here, and we’ll all help you. I mean, I don’t know shit about kids, but I’ll learn. I’ll read shit, and I’ll build one of those fucking cage things you stick them in when they need a time out, or when you need a time out, or whatever.”
“It’s called a playpen, doofus. Putting your kids in a cage is kinda illegal.” I deadpan. “And it wouldn’t matter how many books you read, or how many playpens you built, I’m still on my own here.”
“No you’re not, Hols. Don’t you fucking get it?”
“Jack—” I begin, but stop short when Coop’s hire car pulls up the drive.
I have my eyes glued to the vehicle, so I’m completely startled when Jack reaches out and jerks my face to his, just as Coop pulls up in front of the house. He threads his hands in my hair and kisses me hard, smearing my gloss across his mouth, and then he shoves his tongue between my lips and down my throat until I’m practically choking on it. There’s none of the passion or need of our other kisses, like there was when he fucked me on the kitchen counter. This is purely for show, a man marking his territory, like a fucked-up mutt.
I shove him back, and hear Coop’s car door open. And then I shove him some more. Jack looks hurt, but his expression is smug, too. He knows I’m thinking about him, and he knows that even though I’m annoyed he played hockey with my windpipe, and almost caused me to stop breathing, I’m also thinking about having him between my thighs right now. I glare at him, but it doesn’t make one bit of difference. He’s still filled to bursting with self-satisfaction. I shake my head, and walk away.
Coop stands, stiff-as-a-board, against his car door. He’s just waiting for the go-ahead to beat down on my “fuck buddy” again. God, Jack is such an arsehole.
“You okay?” Coop asks.
“Yeah,” I say. He rushes to open the door for me, but as he just spent the last twenty seconds staring daggers at Jack, he’s a little too late, and I open my own car door, climb in, and slam it before they can come to fisticuffs about something else.
I watch Jack’s face as Coop reverses us down the drive. He doesn’t look nearly as self-assured as he did a minute ago. He runs a hand over his face, and then stands and walks inside with his shoulders hunched.
I swear, sometimes I think I’d have more clarity being locked in a whole room full of mental patients for the rest of my life than I have with just five minutes spent with that man.
ONCE THE Jackarse is out of sight, I realise just how awkward this date really is. I’m riding in a car with the father of my unborn child. We’ve said five words to one another since he found out, and five of thos
e were about him removing me and his kid from our lives here in Sugartown. A life we don’t want to be removed from. Awkward.
“So, you doing okay today?”
“Yep,” I say brusquely and then regret it. Whatever Coop and I used to be, it was never this awkward. He’s the most agreeable person I know. Much more agreeable than Jack.
“How are you dealing … you know, with the baby-daddy thing?”
“It’s a little hard to wrap my head around. But I meant what I said last night. I’m going to be present in this kid’s life, so if that means moving back to Sugartown, and working for Dave the publican for the rest of my days, I’ll do it.”
“And how exactly does that work into your plans for world domination?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You told the band yet?”
“They know I’m dealing with some leftover stuff here.”
“Leftover?” Now that just pisses me off. “Well, I guess you got that much right.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
I nod, but I’m guessing the dour expression on my face tells him I’m not happy.
“I am fucking nervous as hell right now.”
“Why? I don’t bite unless you ask me to, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.” He grins, and then his smile falters, and he trains his eyes back on the road. I could hazard a guess at what he’s thinking; it doesn’t take a genius to figure he’s remembering what Jackson said last night about him teaching me everything I know.
We drive to the outskirts of town, and Coop pulls into a secluded spot near the swimming hole. He exits the car, and runs around to the other side in order to open my door. When he pulls me from the seat, I feel a tingle through my fingers where my skin is touching his, right down to my lady parts. I look away, because Coop was always good at knowing my looks, especially my, “I need to be fucked” face.
He pulls out a blanket that looks an awful lot like a comforter from a cheap motel, and a shopping bag full of goodies from the boot, and then we trek through the paddock to the river. He spreads out the blanket in the shade. Actually, he spreads out the blanket in a spot we once spent the night, drunk on beer, and buzzed from the pot he’d bought from Dave the publican. That was actually a pretty good memory. It was a short time before he left, before the immaculate conception, obviously, and we were so tanked that we’d laid out on a blanket in this exact same spot and drank, and fucked until we passed out, and woke the next day completely naked and wrapped in once another’s arms as a bunch of kids and their parents came traipsing through the paddock for an early morning swim. We’d laughed all the way back to the car, and then I’d jumped his bones and rode him until the gearstick in his truck left a golf-ball-sized bruise on my arse.
As he looks over at me, I know he’s thinking the same thing. How explosive that early-morning sex was, and how it was one of the last times we’d been that carefree and in love. He smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness, and then he shakes his head and goes about setting out the food for us to eat. He’s remembered all my favourite cheeses, only I can’t eat them now on account of the baby potentially getting some kind of mad-cow disease if things are unpasteurized, so I munch on some of the crackers he lays out. He pulls out a bottle of my favourite moscato, and then visibly baulks. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I forgot.”
“That I was a pregnant, raging alco?”
“I brought water. It’s not fancy, but it won’t kill our baby. So that’s a plus, right?”
I take the bottle from him, ignoring the weird little thrill I get when he says, “our baby”. Fucking hormones.
“Oh, here, I brought this for you,” I say, and fish the tiny square from my handbag.
He takes it and looks it over, and then his eyes go wide as I’m guessing the image and the big arrow pointing to the jelly-bean-shaped thing in the centre that reads baby becomes clearer. His eyes cloud over, then his arms engulf me. It’s uncomfortable, but also familiar.
I settle into the embrace, take a deep breath, and—holy Jesus and cheese on a fucking cracker. Why do guys smell so good these days? I swear to God, just this morning I was seconds away from rubbing myself up against Bob just to smell his cologne. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m just about to bury my nose into Coop’s armpit when he pulls me back, and places his hands on my belly.
“I kinda forgot babies had that effect on people,” I mutter, feeling awkward again.
“It’s hard to believe it’s so tiny,”
“Was so tiny. He’s actually a lot bigger than that now. They tend not to print photos at this stage, though, they kinda just burn them to disc.”
“And you have those?”
“Of course.”
He glances down at the picture again. His blue-grey eyes blaze with all the things he doesn’t say. “So you haven’t told me how you’re doing with the mummy stuff?”
“Well, it’s a little weird,”
“Really? How so?”
“I have a life growing inside me, Coop, how is that not weird?”
He shrugs. “You tell me.”
“Well, first of all, he kicks like a motherfucker.”
“Ha ha, goddamn I missed that mouth of yours, Hols.”
I smile, though he doesn’t mean that in the kinky way it sounds. Or maybe he does? He is kinda looking like he wants to throw me down, and show me the true meaning of god. “And two, I’m hungry all the time. Like, all the time. It never stops. I spent the first six months throwing up my insides, and now I can’t get enough. In fact, I can feel my arse widening when I just stare at a cracker.”
“Nah, you look as fucking hot as ever.”
“Ha! You haven’t seen the stretch marks over my once-beautiful flat stomach.”
“Then show me.” He challenges.
“I’m not showing you my torn-up skin, it’s gross.”
“Lift up your shirt.” Coop demands.
“No,” I say, and hold the hem down over the waistband of my skirt.
He leans over, and I fall back onto the soft blanket in an attempt to get away. The next thing I know, the little containers of cheese and the packet of crackers are going everywhere. He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, and then I feel his hands slip up under the edge of my shirt, and over my distended stomach. My natural instinct when anyone tries to touch my belly is to pull away, so I jump. Coop’s gaze trails up from my abdomen to meet my eyes.
“Hold still,” he whispers in a low, melodic voice. For a second, I’m transported back to a time when he sang me to sleep while I lay naked in his arms.
He pushes my T-shirt up to expose my belly and the soft loose waistband of my skirt down until my whole tummy is exposed. He places his hands on either side of my stomach, and sweeps his hand around and over my flesh. I swear this has to be the single most erotic encounter in my life, and he hasn’t even touched my lady parts, but something about being worshipped for what you are, flaws and all, is kinda nice—especially for a woman who feels like her sexuality is going to vanish the minute this kid pops its head out of her vagina. I sigh, close my eyes, and let the smattering of warm sunshine filtering through the trees set fire to my skin, the same way Coop’s touch is. I throw my hands up above my head and breathe deeply, melting into his touch.
“You’re still fucking amazing, Holly,” he whispers, and my eyes spring open as my gaze meets his heated one. He’s on his knees between my legs, and I can see his hard cock pressing against the front of his jeans. “Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
I pull my shirt down, and sit upright. Coop shifts, too. His warm breath skates over my face, and then he moves closer until his lips meet mine, and he kisses me as fiercely and abruptly as Jack did on our veranda. His mouth on mine is so familiar that I get completely caught up in remembering the way that our bodies once fit together. My hands fly to his hair, and I tug at his too-long strands as he pushes my knees apart with his hand, and slides beneath my skirt. I gasp as he trails
his fingertips—calloused from a lifetime of playing guitar—up the sensitive flesh of my thigh. I think of Jack’s hand trailing a similar path yesterday in our kitchen, and I feel my heart wrench. All the passion of the moment ebbs as reality slams into me.
“Coop, this isn’t a good idea.” I shift back, away from his touch so it can’t cloud my head any longer.
“Feels like a pretty good idea to me.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“This is because of him, isn’t it?” he snaps.
“No, it has nothing to do with him. I just—things are complicated enough as it is.”
“How is this complicated if it’s not about him? You’re carrying my child, and I’m still in love with you, Hols. None of that has changed for me. I love you, and I want us to take care of our baby together. I want us to be a family.”
“I don’t love you, Cooper. I can’t just switch this shit on because you want me to. I gave you my heart, and you shoved it back in my face when you left town. You’re the father of my child, and I’ll admit there’s history between us that’s kinda hard to ignore, especially when you touch me like that, but—”
“But I’m not Jackson?”
“That’s not it at all.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m about to have a baby. Forgive me for wanting to put this kid first before rock star ex-boyfriends and flatmates that are … well … Jackson. This kid has to be the most important thing in my life. I don’t really have time for anything else.”
“But you have time for your roommate to fuck you on the kitchen counter?”
I shrink back like he’d just slapped me. “How did you …?”
“Debbie saw the mess on your kitchen floor when she was at your house yesterday.”
“It’s not what you think it is. I mean, it is, but it was a stupid mistake that I have no intention of repeating again.”
“Good, because I’m not giving up that easily. I hate that he’s had his hands on you. I hate that he thinks he has some sort of claim on you, but I’m not giving up, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Cooper—”
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