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Second

Page 14

by Chantal Fernando


  sexy man with whom I had one night of hot, passionate

  sex, but that doesn’t mean he gets to tell me what to do. I might

  have liked him bossy in bed, but this right here is a different

  story.

  He takes a deep breath, as if calming himself. “I’ve been

  looking for you for two days. I’m trying not to lose my fuckin’

  temper here, Faye, but you’re pushing me. I don’t think I’ve

  ever been this patient in my fuckin’ life.”

  This is him patient?

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I reply, lifting my chin up. “And

  you can’t make me.”

  We stare at each other, the tension building.

  I can actually feel the moment before he snaps.

  His fists clench, and the tightness in his jaw looks almost

  painful.

  I step back into the frame of the open bathroom door as he

  loses it.

  He picks up the TV and throws it into the wall. The crashing

  sound makes me jump, but he doesn’t stop there. He

  punches the wall several times, then slides the few glasses off

  the table in one smooth movement.

  More crashing.

  There goes my deposit.

  He turns and points his finger right at me.

  I gulp.

  My eyes widen as he grabs my bag and starts packing anything

  of mine he comes across. I walk up to him and try to grab

  it away from him, but one deathly look has me retracting my

  hand.

  “Temper tantrum over?” I ask, trying to keep my voice

  steady.

  He looks down at my bare feet, then at all the glass scattered

  on the carpet floor. “Don’t move.”

  I do as I’m told as he brings me a pair of my shoes. I slide

  them on and look up at him.

  Why does he want me to go with him? What good can come

  from it? What I need to do is move on with my life and settle

  down somewhere quiet and safe. Somewhere without sex-ona-

  stick bikers and their douche-lord cheating brothers. Somewhere

  where my parents aren’t around, and I can be myself.

  “I just want to be left alone, Dex,” I say, tears forming in my

  eyes. I’m tired, so fucking tired. My life isn’t meant to be like

  this, and I hate the fact that he’s seeing me this vulnerable.

  I hate it.

  I’m not this weak—not usually.

  And he’s the last person I’d want to see me like this. He’s

  strong. Nothing touches him. I have no idea how he would

  handle me if I broke down right now, which I’m seriously close

  to doing.

  “No, you thought running was going to solve your problems.

  You thought lying was going to solve your problems.

  You’re lucky my dipshit brother mentioned that you left, and

  that you were pregnant, or I wouldn’t even know I was going to

  have a fuckin’ kid!” he yells, losing his composure.

  Talk about kicking me when I’m down.

  “I really don’t need your shit right now,” I mutter, looking

  down at the floor, feeling like the worst person in the world.

  Because he’s right, I probably wouldn’t have told him. I can’t

  say what I would have done.

  “You would have gone on, wouldn’t you? Your whole life

  without telling me,” he says in disbelief. “Don’t you think I

  deserved to have heard this from you?”

  I think about lying, but in the end I don’t. I deserve his

  judgment over this. “Do you really think you could give this

  kid a good life?”

  Wrong thing to say, but I needed to say it because that was

  my rationalization for leaving without a word. His eyes turn

  cold and hard. “I guess you’re going to find out now, aren’t you?”

  “How do you know this kid is even yours?” I ask, lifting my

  chin up. Why am I poking the dragon? I have no idea.

  “I know because the condom broke that night, and you

  hadn’t had sex with Eric in a while,” he says, staring straight at

  me. “Or anyone else.”

  “The condom broke?” I gape, my eyes flaring.

  Well, that explains things doesn’t it?

  And who is he? The sex police? I hadn’t had sex with anyone

  else, but how did he know that?

  He watches me under his lashes but ignores my comment.

  “Grab your shit, Faye. You have five minutes or we leave

  without it,” he says, sitting down on the bed. I grit my teeth

  but do as he says, taking my few belongings and packing them

  back in my bag with efficient ease.

  “I’m ready,” I say, avoiding eye contact. He takes the bag

  from me and hikes it on his shoulder, then holds the door open.

  I walk out and wait for him to lead me to his car. He walks

  down toward the parking lot, and I follow, a few steps behind.

  “What about my car? It has some of my stuff in it,” I ask

  him.

  “Rake will drive it home,” he says as he opens the door to a

  black four-wheel drive. He grips my hips and lifts me up onto

  the seat. My breath hitches at the contact and flashes of our

  night together enter my mind.

  Him braced above me as he grinds into me, sweat dripping

  down his body.

  Me on all fours in front of him, his fingers digging into my hips

  as he thrusts.

  “Faye,” he says, snapping me out of it.

  “Huh?”

  “What were you just thinking about?” he asks, his voice a

  low rumble.

  “Oh, nothing,” I mutter embarrassment coloring my

  cheeks.

  “I’ll bet. I said Rake will handle your car, so don’t worry

  about it.”

  “Rake?” I ask, my brows furrowing in confusion. I watch as

  Dex lifts his head toward the side of the building. I follow his

  line of sight and see a man leaning against the wall, smoking a

  cigarette. He walks over and stands next to Dex.

  “So this is what the fuss is all about,” the man named Rake

  says, checking me out and not being subtle about it.

  “I’m Rake,” he says, grinning at me. He’s a good-looking

  man. Blond hair, curling around his face, green eyes, and a

  panty-dropping smile. He has a lip ring and an eyebrow ring—

  both suit him perfectly.

  “Faye,” I say, managing a small smile.

  “I have to drive your car home,” he says. “You owe me,

  Faye.” Another grin, and then he’s off.

  Dex sends Rake a look I can’t decipher, then turns to me.

  “You okay?” he asks, scanning my face. His expression softens

  as he looks over me.

  “Yeah. Thanks for asking,” I tell him, clearing my throat.

  He grunts in reply, closing the door and heading to the other

  side. When he pulls out of the parking lot, he turns to me.

  “You know, I thought you were one of the good ones. I

  never thought you would do something like this, trying to

  keep me in the dark about my own kid.”

  With that parting shot, which I feel deep in my bones, he

  drives me back home.

  Back to the place I’m trying to escape.

  Back to where my child will have no future.

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