by Danah Logan
"What the hell?" I drop my hand again and step inside. I know for a fact Kai came home alone. That's something that always registers in my muddled brain, no matter how trashed I am. And walking past it, his door was still closed.
I round the edge of the couch and stop short.
I, uh—what? I blink once, twice. Nope, she's still there. My heart has stopped beating, or at least that's what the cramping sensation behind my ribs must mean. My chest hurts at the sight, and I can't make sense of it.
King is curled up, one foot out straight, which I saw hanging over, and her top leg thrown over one of the couch pillows. Most of her body is covered with a blanket that I'm pretty sure was in the living room last night when I started my nightly routine.
Am I still drunk?
I rack my brain. I came home from another useless training session, ate some leftover Chinese from…I think three days ago, then proceeded to watch TV and…drink.
Why did you take her? Her question sounds in my mind.
Who?
Echo.
She was my connection to you.
Fuck, was that real? I rake my hands through my hair and let them rest on the top of my head. King is here, in my house, and I—
"Oh fuck!" The other thing I said slams into my brain.
King jolts up, and the blanket drops off her body. Her sleepy gaze flits around the room, clearly disoriented, until her eyes settle on me, and her hands fly to her mouth. I only vaguely follow the motion because what the falling blanket revealed has all my attention: her stomach.
My fingers pull on the strands of my hair as my throat goes dry. My pulse thrashes in my ears, and I'm assessing what in this room I can destroy without it costing me a fortune. At least I have some rational thinking left. My girl is pregnant. No, she's not my girl. But she is. I tug harder, and the sharp pain on my scalp makes me wince.
"Wes?" At the sound of her voice, the red haze slowly disappears, and I study her closely. She's…scared.
"Who did you fuck?" What the hell?
"What?" She pulls the blanket over to cover herself.
"A little late for that, MOAB Girl," I sneer, and she lets it drop back in her lap.
"I'm going to ask you again. Who did you fuck?" Not how did you get into my house? Or what are you doing here? After no one had a clue where she was for almost five months.
"I didn't fuck anyone, Sheats." Her sass is back, and my cock twitches instantly.
"Well, someone put that bun in your oven," I mock her. Does she think I'm stupid? She jumped the next best dick as soon as she le—
"I'm five and a half months pregnant, you asshole! Do the math." She throws the blanket off and stands up, her hands on her tiny hips. She is still tiny. She's all belly. Belly. Stomach. Five and a half—I count back, and my eyes fly to hers.
"Five and a half?" I croak.
She sighs in resignation, and her chin dips forward.
I take a step toward her. "King, look at me." Cold sweat has formed on my forehead. I swallow, but it's of no use. I'm somewhere between puking and passing out. Maybe both. The remnants of the alcohol in my system are not helping either.
Another step, but then she jerks backward. "No." She holds her hands up, palms toward me.
"King, is this my baby?" I speak purposefully slow. Not because I think she doesn't hear or understand me, but because I'm trying to keep the two emotions currently battling for control from spilling out.
Happiness is too weak of a word for the sensation of seeing her in front of me. I've never missed anyone in my life as I've missed her. Even when I didn't want to accept it, when I still believed she had played me.
White-hot rage for having kept this from me. She ran away with my baby and hasn't bothered reaching out at all to give me the news.
"When did you plan on telling me?" I'm seething, and I can't fully pinpoint why. Do I want to be a father? I'm fucking twenty-one years old. I legally started drinking less than a year ago. I'm in college. We're not in a relationship. She lied to me about who she was. No, she never lied, but she also didn't tell me the truth.
"I found out the day Gray came back. I was going to tell you—" she starts, not meeting my eyes.
"Gray? You mean your father." Well, that escalated quickly. I guess we are doing this now.
"Gray is my father. But he hasn't been my dad since I buried him when I was seven." Her voice has dropped to an icy level. I hit a nerve.
I let myself fall on the couch and hang my head. I have no clue what to do.
"I came to get Echo. You told me you love me."
I can't look at her.
"Get your dog and go." I need space, need to think.
I hold my breath to see what she does next. I want her to wrap her arms around me and leave my house at the same time.
Footsteps indicate that she does the latter.
"Echo, heel!" Her command comes from somewhere down the hall, but her dog follows immediately.
I guess her loyalty lies with King, after all.
I stay in the media room until Kai stumbles past the door, then backtracks.
"Uh, bro, why are you in here?" He peers around. "And where is Echo?" He scratches his naked chest, and something inside of me flips. I need to get out. I jump up and push past my roommate.
Where are my phone and my wallet? And maybe a hoodie, since it's still the fucking dead of winter in Montana. Two minutes later, I shove my feet in my boots next to the door leading into the garage. I'm down the stairs before Kai makes it two steps.
Where the hell am I going? King is probably at Mags's. No, I'm not ready to see her again. Den is not in town yet. The wedding is not until the fifteenth, another week. That leaves only…
I hammer at the door of their rental house. Well, house is putting it lightly since you could fit half the population of Stonebriar in this monstrosity.
"Open up, fucker! I know you're awake!" I shout as I bang on the door.
Technically, I don't, but whatever. The door swings inward and reveals Rhys in all his sweaty glory.
See, I knew he was up.
He lifts his eyebrows as I shoulder past him. Lilly comes down the stairs while Marcus appears from somewhere farther back in the house.
"Wes, what's—" Lilly starts at the bottom step.
"I'm having a baby!" I blurt out.
Rhys thins his lips, and I take in Lilly. "You knew." I'm not asking.
She lifts her chin, and I'm almost proud of her for standing up to me—almost. The pissed-off asshole in me feels blindsided once more.
"I knew, yes," she declares steadily.
"Babe." Rhys's tone holds a warning, and I round on him.
"Did you?" I swear to God, if he kept this from me, our friendship is officially over.
"He didn't." Lilly steps to her fiancé's side.
"She told me last month when we left here," he amends, not wanting her to take the full brunt of my anger.
"MOTHERFU—" The curse gets stuck in my throat. I cover my face. I should leave. Who can I trust these days?
A hand lands on my shoulder. "Let's talk, man."
Talk.
It's almost noon by the time everyone is quiet. There has been a lot of yelling, cursing, and tears—on Lilly's side—since I arrived at their house.
Lilly spoke the most. She laid everything out, from when she found Gray's note, to when she left King's dump in Arizona. Ari-fucking-zona. At one point, I had to move. The longer I sat still, the twitchier I got—until it was too much. I jerked upright, and my chair toppled over in the process. I'm not sure how many miles I paced through their kitchen. When Lilly got to the part about King's apartment complex and how she had her followed for the past month for no other reason than their safety, I threw the closest thing I could find—a discarded coffee mug.
My already dry throat was closing up on me. Their safety. King's safety. My child's—holy fuck, I'm going to have a baby.
There went a glass that also sat on the counter. Neithe
r of them flinched at my outburst. Lilly simply got up and started cleaning while I kept marching the length of the room.
During her recollection, Rhys mainly remained mute. His expressions ranged from concerned, to livid, to—let's say, he was not happy about having been kept in the dark for nearly three years. That much was clear. I almost wanted to flip him off and say, "Sucks, huh?" I bit my tongue, though.
Marcus hovered in the attached sitting room. In the back of my mind, I was wondering, why? Was there trouble in paradise between Rhys and Lilly? Or was he there for a different reason? Was he worried I'd flip my lid on them?
Lilly mentioned that Marcus was the one that brought King back yesterday, and I found myself grinding my teeth at the thought of them being alone, him possibly laying a hand on her—even if it was to help her.
"I'm going back to the gym," Rhys announces out of the blue and pushes back from the table. When he passes Marcus, he barks, "Let's go, Shadow," but keeps going.
Marcus waits for Lilly to make eye contact, and she nods at him. That is her signal for him to go.
I'm leaning against the counter, watching Lilly load the dishwasher with slumped shoulders. Despite the turmoil raging havoc on my own emotions, I hate seeing her like this.
She knew who King was before I did. She was fully aware of me dating King, but still, she didn't say a word. Her behavior over Christmas break makes sense now. Especially because she knew every-fucking-thing!
I want to be angry with her. I deserve to be pissed the same way as when Rhys's actions blew up in his face. Somehow, I can't. Things have changed. I have changed, and all because of the few weeks I spent with one girl.
Every time I consider my next step—Do I confront King? Do I walk away from her?—my brain seizes up on me. I have no idea what's going to happen. It's like I'm stuck in an isolation tank. My mind works on overdrive to process the deprivation of senses, but at the same time, there's nothing. It's overload and starvation all at once.
I force myself to refocus on the girl in front of me instead. I have no clue what's going to happen with King and me, with our baby—zero fucking idea. But I care about Lilly.
"Are you two okay?" My heartbeat picks up, and I wait for her reply. I realize I need them to be okay. They're Lilly and Rhys. Nothing comes between them.
"Yes." She pauses with a bunch of utensils in her hand and locks eyes with me. "He's angry. Not because I kept King from him—he gets it—but that I went to her alone."
"Is he still…?" I trail off, remembering the time after Lilly came home from the hospital. I don't have to spell it out; she understands my question. Rhys would follow her everywhere. His fear of her being taken again was crippling him.
"Not like that." She shakes her head. "He trusts Marcus. He wanted to form his own opinion about King. He loves you, Wes, and he doesn't want anything—or anyone—to hurt you. Again." She sighs. "He regrets his decision. We both do."
"I know." Rhys has proven that on several occasions, and I believe him. Coming here today confirmed that. Rhys was the person I turned to when I needed someone—like old times. Does that mean I've forgiven him? It looks like it. Well, shit.
I surprise myself with my next sentence. "King wouldn't hurt me."
Lilly's mouth widens to a broad grin. "No, she wouldn't."
My stomach flips at her reaction. "You like her?"
She steps around the open dishwasher and wraps her arms around my midsection, peering up at me. "If you don't snatch her up, I will. And Rhys won't be happy taking you as my replacement."
I snort. "You're nuts."
"Runs in the family." She winks, but it wipes the smile off my face.
"Gray almost killed you," I choke the words out. King is his daughter.
"King is nothing like her father," Lilly says softly. "Your bloodline doesn't define who you are."
I cock my head at her, understanding the meaning. She is not talking about King anymore.
"Do you think she would've told me?" My pulse speeds up.
"Yes."
I squint at her. How can she be so sure?
As if reading my mind, Lilly deadpans, "Because this girl is so in love with you it puts Rhys and me to shame. You didn't see her when I asked her to come back here. She was scared to death that you would not want her."
Do I want her? I'm being pulled in so many directions. I don't know where top or bottom is. I love this woman. There is no question in my—for once sober—mind. But she knew who I was without telling me who she was related to.
But when was she supposed to tell you? a voice resembling Lilly's an awful lot echoes in my ears.
She left town with my baby. She knew all day and dodged my calls.
Would you have listened to her? Seriously? When was King replaced by Lilly in my head?
I need to think. So, I do the one thing that makes sense: I pull up the airline app. I'd be back for the wedding.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
"I don't think I've ever seen him speechless. I mean, he never talks much, but usually, there is at least a grunt or a disapproving glare," Mags whisper-shouts to me as we hover in Grizz's office door.
He took one look at me, and his jaw hit the desk.
Today marks two days of radio silence from Wes. Granted, I've been hiding at home, and he doesn't have my new number—as far as I know. My brain pauses, trying to process the picture that has painted itself in my mind. Home: a concept I can't wrap my mind around. Do I really plan to stay? I'm not ready to answer questions about my whereabouts the past five months or explain the medicine ball under my shirt.
Lilly showed up Saturday morning with Marcus in tow. She informed me that Wes went to see Denielle, and they'd be coming back together for the wedding. Fucking wonderful. Wes found out he was going to be a father and ran off to the one person who probably hated me more than my sister.
Marcus was loaded with garment bags, and the guy looked grumpier than normal. Having lost my train of thought at the sight, I hovered on the threshold.
Mags took charge and waved them into our small hallway. "Drop 'em there." She pointed to the living room and ordered him like it was the most normal thing in the world for Lilly and her security detail to walk into our little two-bedroom apartment. But this was Mags; why was I surprised? I wasn't—not really. Following at a slower pace, I watched the scene unfold. I had slept like shit the last couple of nights, thanks to Nugget's boxing routine between midnight and three—using my organs as a punching bag. When my baby finally exhausted herself, my thoughts wandered to a certain someone. My body and mind were running on fumes, and I couldn't even consume the necessary caffeine I needed to function.
"What's all this?" I gestured at the mountain overtaking our couch.
Lilly feigned innocence. "We need to get you a dress, and since I don't know your, uh, size"—her eyes flickered to my midsection—"I had a bunch of options overnighted."
My stomach flipped, and I peered over at Mags. Narrowing my eyes back at Lilly, I crossed my arms and rested them on my belly—sorry, Nugget. "Why would I need a dress?"
"For the wedding." The duh in her reply was silent.
As her words took root in my head, the previous somersault flip turned into a full-blown roller coaster, making the dizziness spread through every limb like a wildfire. "No, I— He would never— Uh, just no—" I spun on my heels and raced to my room. What the hell was this girl thinking? Yes, she had Marcus deliver the invitation to me, but I couldn't go to her wedding. Wes hated me. I would ruin everything. Echo took one glance from her doggy bed and sat up, alarmed. Since bringing her back with me, she had barely left my side. If we were sitting, her head would be somewhere in my lap or pressed against Nugget. If I was standing, she was in constant contact with my legs. I hadn't decided if she missed me or if she was protecting the baby—either way, she'll be a great big sister.
At a knock on the door, my heart slipped in my chest. Go away. "Come in."
I didn't know who I expected, but
not Marcus. His head appeared in the gap, and he glanced around, uncomfortable.
"You won't find any embarrassing underwear lying around, so stop looking so constipated." I chuckled and shocked myself how at ease I was with him.
He pushed the door open, and I amended, "None of it fits anymore."
What was I doing?
Marcus choked for a second, gaping at me, then a smirk turned his mouth upward, and he shook his head. "You are something, Kingsley Monroe."
"Why, Marcus Baxter, you look almost approachable when you're not scowling," I shot back. Something in his presence made me feel lighter. Not because there was an attraction there—no one could ever compare to Wes. It was as if I recognized myself in him—my old, pre-Wes self.
He slowly walked into the room, eyeing Echo. "Will she attack?"
"Not unless you have the intent to hurt me." I glanced at my dog. "Echo." Her name was all I had to say. She scooted closer and sat pressed against my shins.
He lowered himself on my other side onto the mattress. "I asked Lilly to let me be the one to talk to you."
Oh? It was my turn to scowl. This would be interesting. Wiping my palms against my leggings, I didn't dare to breathe.
"Obviously, I know who you are and who your family is." He paused, waiting for me to show some type of acknowledgment.
The hammering in my chest increased in speed, and drawing in air became harder. I had no idea where this was leading. "Yes," I replied in a low tone.
"Do you know anything about me?" he inquired, and I shook my head. Should I?
"Let's leave it at: we both had a childhood no kid should ever go through." He exhaled. "But we did. And we came out the other side."
He wrung his hands together and talked toward the floor. This was new. I had seen Marcus Baxter arrogant, confident, condescending, not giving a shit, but this… He almost seemed uncomfortable. Like a little boy.
"It may not seem this way, but everything you…endured molded you into the strong woman you are today. You didn't let it beat you down; you fought. The same way you are fighting for your baby. You want to give it a good life. I watched you in Arizona."