by Bec Botefuhr
“Oh,Sierra.”
“Pleasedon’ttrytochangemymind.Iwantyouto…Quinn…Iwant youtotakemehome.”
“TotheUniversity?”
“No,tomyparents’house.”
“Areyousure…”
“Ican’tshowmyfaceatschoolagain.HowcanI?”
“You’reinyourfinalyear.Ifyouquitnow…”
“I’lltalktotheprofessoraboutfinishingatanotherschool.Ican’tgo back.”
He’ssilentamoment.“I’llhelpyou.Iwillgoandgetyourthings andtelltheprofessorwhathappened,tellhimtocallyou.But,Sierra,you needtotellMarcus.”
Ihiccupandmychestclenchespainfully.“HowcanItellhimit’s overQuinn?I…can’t…”
“Youhaveto.It’snotfairthatyoujustleave.Hedeservesyoutotalk tohim…”
Inodandpullaway,wipingmyface.“I’llcallhimwhileyou’re gone.”
Hestands,pullingmetomyfeet.Heswipesastrandofdamphair frommyeyes.“I’llgoandgetyourthingsandbebacksoon.”
Inodandhekissesmycheekbeforeleaving.WhenIgatherthe courage,Istepoutintotheloungeandfindmyphone.Myhearthurts,it trulyachesatthethoughtofhavingtotellMarcusI’mleaving.Whatelse canIdo?Thisisthebestchoiceforme…andhim.Ican’tlethiscareerbe ruinedoverme.He’salwaystoldmehowhardhe’sworked.Ican’tdo thattohim.Iwon’tdothattohim.Ipickupmyphoneandseethedozens anddozensofmissedcallsfrommyfamily.Isighanddialmymomback first,IguessshewillwantanswersandIdon’tknowhowtogivethemto herrightnow.
“Sierra!”shecrieswhensheanswers.
“Momma,”Isob.
“Ohbaby.Why?Whydidn’tyoutellmewhathappenedtoyou?”
“Iwasashamedofmyselfforlettinghim…”
“Whodidit,Sierra.Youtellme.Whohurtmybabyand…”
“Iwilltalktoyouaboutitsoon,Ipromise.I’mcominghome.”
“Ohbaby,ofcourse.”
“I’mleavingMarcus.”
“Oh…Sierra…”
“Ijustwantedyoutoknow,I’llbethereinafewhours.”
“Iwillbewaitingforyou,baby,I’msosorry.”
“Iknow,momma.I’llseeyousoonok?”
“Drivesafe,mysweet.”
IhangupandmyhandtremblesasIdialMarcus.Heanswersonthe secondringandhearinghisvoicetearsmetopiecesinside.
“Sierra,baby,areyouok?”
“Marcus…I…Idon’tknowhowtodothistoyouandI’msosorry but…I’mleaving.”
“What?”Hisvoiceisragged,butsoft.
“Ican’tdothis.Ican’tdoittomyselfortoyou.Ican’thaveyour careerandliferuinedbecauseofmeandIcan’tbethegirlthatstolea takenman.Ijustcan’t.I’msorry.Iloveyou.Ihopeyouknowthat,but wewerebothfoolingourselvesthinkingthiswouldeverwork.”
“Sierra,don’tdothistome.Don’tfuckingleaveme.Goddammit, Sierra…”
“I’msorry.”
Ipullthephonefrommyearatthesoundofhispainedbellow.I clickitoffanddroptomyknees,screamingandgrippingmyself.God…
what…whathaveIdone?
~*~*~*~*
MARCUS
“Getmycar!”Iroar,runningdownthehalls.
Roseisrushingtowardsme,butwhenIyell,shepullsoutherphone anddials.
“Marcusneedsaride,beoutfront.”
ShehangsupandstaresatmeasIruntowardstheexit.
“Sir,areyouok?”
“She’srunning,she’sgoingtorun.”
“Sierra?”
“Ihavetogettoher.”
“Go,sir,I’llhaveeverythingcoveredhere.”
Irushoutthefrontdoorsandintothecarwaiting.Itellhimtostep onitandgetbacktomyplaceasfastashecan.Halfanhour,itwilltake mehalfanhour.Godpleaseletherbethere.IopenmyphoneandIdial hernumber.Shedoesn’tanswer.CursingIslamthephonedownontothe chair.She’sleavingme.Shecan’tfuckingleaveme.Notnow.Notafter everything.Ishouldn’thaveleftherthismorning.Fuck,Ishouldhave stayed.IshouldhaveshownhersheismoreimportantthananyjobI’ll everhavebutIleftheralone.
Thehalfanhourittakestogethome,isthelongestdriveinthe historyofmyexistence.Whenwepullupatmyapartment,Idon’tsee Quinn’scar.Ifeelfuckingsick.Itaketheelevatorandruntherestofthe way.WhenIgettomyapartment,Iswingthedooropen.Iknowassoon asIstepinthatshe’snothere.Thelightsareout.Herthingsaregone.I hearmyownpainedbellowasIdroptomykneesandgripmyhair.I’ve fuckinglosther.She’sgone.Fuck,whathaveIdone?Ishouldhave fuckingdestroyedChaynewhenIhadthechance.NowI’velost everythingbecauseofherandBenjaminFord.
Withaheavingchestandaheadfullofrevenge,Ipulloutmyphone andIdialthereporterwhofuckedthisupforus.Whenheanswers,Ibark intothephone,“Youwantastoryyoulittleweasel,Ihaveafuckingstory foryou.ThepersonwhoabusedSierraWalters,wasBenjaminFord.How aboutyouwriteaboutthat!”
ThenIslamthephoneclosed.Iftheywanttoplay,wellfuck,I’ll play.
CHAPTER13
SIERRA
“Ohbaby,”mymothersays,pullingmeintoherarmswhenIstepout ofQuinn’scar.
Iwrapmyselfaroundher,breathingherinandlettingmytearsfall oncemore.
“Ithurts,momma.”
“Iknowitdoes,Iknow.Comeon,let’sgetyouinside.”
ShesmilesupatQuinnandhereturnsthesmile,beforefollowingus inside.Jayellecomesrushingdownthestairswhenwecomein.
“OhSierra!”
Shepullsmefrommom’sarmsandwrapsmeinhers,strokingmy hairandsoothingme.
“We’vegotyou.Noonewillhurtyouhere.”
“Come,sit,I’llmakesometea.”
MymotherrushesoffintothekitchenandQuinnsitsonthecouch besideme,Jayelleontheotherside.Theybothtakemyhandsandwesit insilenceforalong,longmoment.
“Hashetriedtocall?”Quinnasks.
“Hehasn’tstopped,”Iwhisper.
ThepaininmychestisunlikeanythingI’veeverfeltbeforeinmy life.Ican’tevenbegintoexplaintheagonyofhavingtoletsomeonego.
Hewaseverything…everydamnedthingandIlethimgo.It’sforthe best,IhavetokeeptellingmyselfthatbecauseifIdon’t,I’llnevermove on.Ihavetobelievehe’sbetteroffwithoutme.Ihaveto.
“He’llcometoyou,Sierra.Hewon’tjustletthisend.”
“Idon’tknow,”Isayinasmallvoice.“Ithinkhewilljustletitend.”
“Helovesyou.”
“Heloveshisjob,too.”Ipointout.
Weallfallsilentagain.Whatistheretosaytothat?Youdon’thave ajoblikeMarcusHarrison’sandjustgiveitaway.Notforlove.Notfor anything.Lovecouldend,thingscangowrong.Itwouldtakeawholelot morethanlovetogiveupacareerlikehis.Ialwaysknewthat,deep down,IalwaysknewIwouldcomesecondandIthinkpartofmewas willingtoacceptthatuntilthismorning.UntilIrealizedthatIcould causemoredamagetoMarcus,thanhecouldtome.Ididn’twanttodo that,nottosomeonesobeautiful.
“Here,love.”
MymotherhandsmeacupofteaandIwrapmyhandsaroundthe cup,warmingthem.
“Whydidn’tyoutellus?”Jayellewhispers.
“HowcouldI?IwasashamedthatIlethimdoit.”
“WasitBen?”Mymotherasks.
Inod,swallowing.“Yes.”
“Heabusedyou,andgotawaywithitscottfreeandthenhe…he…
encouragedthatreporter.Didtheygetthepicturesfromhim?Didhegive themover?”
“No,hedidn’thavepictures.Idon’tknowwherehegott
hepictures.”
“Heshouldbereportedforthis…”mymothercries.
“Howdowereporthimforsomethingthatwecan’tprovehedid?”
“Heletthosereportersknowwherethepictureswere…”
“Wecan’tprovethat,”Isay,feelingmyfrustrationbuilding.
“Whydidn’tyoureporthimtothepolice?”Momsays,almost angrily.
“Iwasashamedofmyself,ok?”Icry,standing.“Iwasashamedof whatIlethimdo.IknowIshouldhavetoldthemitwashim,butIdidn’t andnowI’mpayingforit.Socanwejustdropthis?Ididn’tcomehome foragoddamnedlecture,IcamehomebecauseI’mhurting.I’mgoingto bed,Ican’tdealwiththis.”
“Sierra!”Mymothercries.
“Later,ok?Ineedtorest.”Isayinasoftervoice.
Iwalktomyroom,notlookingback.WhenIgetin,Iwrapmyarms aroundmyselfandsteadilybreathe.Icangetthroughthis.Thepainwill goaway.Ithastogoaway.God,pleaseletitgoaway.Ihearasoftknock onmydoorandQuinnstepsin.
“Ihavetogohoney,Ihavefinals.”
Finals?Whatdateisit?HaveIbeenthatwrappedupIcompletely missedhisfinaldates.
“Already?”Isay,rubbingmyhead.
“Yeah,it’sthetwentyfourthtoday.”
“What?”
“Jesus,Sierra,don’tyouevenkeepupwiththedate.”
Twentyfourth.Twentyfourth.No…ohno.
“Sierra?”
ThinkSierra,thinkbacktolastmonth.Ohno.Nono.Overdue.I’m…
I’m…late.
“Ohgod,”Isayinastrangledtone.
“Whatisit?”Quinnsays,rushingover.
“Quinn…I’m…I’m…late.”
“Late?Whatfor…oh…ohshit.”
“Ohgod,no,pleasedon’tletthishappen.Thiscan’tbehappening.”
“Howlate?”
“Onlyafewdays,butI’malwayssoregular.”
“Ok,don’tstress.Maybeit’sjustastressthing.Youhavebeenreally stressedlately.Don’tpanic.”
“Quinn,thiscan’thappentome.I’monprotectionand…”
“Sierra,what?”
“Ohgod…”
“WHAT?!”
“Igotsick,Igotreallysickremember?Iwasthrowingupreally badlyand…IthinkImissedmypillforthosefewdays.”
“Ohno,Sierra…”
“WhatamIgoingtodo,Quinn?”Iwail,panicking.
“Justbreathe,hey,breathe.It’sprobablynothing.”
“Nothing?!”Iyellloudly.“Nothing?”
“Calmdowngirl,comeon.Youcandealwiththis.Iamgoingtoget Jayelleandshe’sgoingtogogetyouatestbecauseIhavetogo.You’re goingtotakeitcalmly,thenyou’regoingtodealwiththeresultinthe sameway.We’reallhereforyou,nomatterwhathappens.”
“Ohgod,ohgod…”
“Sierra…”
“Ohgod…”
“Jayelle?”Quinnyells.“Canwegetyouuphereforaminute?”
“Coming!”
Amomentlatermysisterstepsintotheroom.
“What’shappening?”shesays,rushingoverandsittingbymyside.
“Sierra,what’swrong.”
“Shethinksshe’spregnant.”
“Justcomerightoutwithit,Quinn!”Icry.
“Well,weneedtogettothedamnedpointsowecansortitout.”He yellsatme.Thenturnstomysister.“Jayelle,Ihavetogo,youneedtogo andgetatestforher.”
Jayelleissilentamoment.“Wellshit.”
“Thataboutcoversit,”Iwail.
“We’regoingtodealwithit,it’sok.I’mgoingtogoandgetyoua testrightnow.”Jayellesays,standing.
Sherushesoutthedoorlikeamadwoman.Ibeginsobbingloudly again.QuinnwrapshisarmsaroundmeandsoothesmeuntilIcalm down.
“It’sgoingtobeok,Sierra.Ipromise.”
“IfI’mpregnant,whatdoesthatmeanformeandMarcus?Itwill ruineverything…”
“Youdon’tknowthat.”
“Hewillbesoangry.Iwillhaveruinedhiscareer.Chaynewilltake everythingfromhim.”
“It’sgoingtobefine,”Quinnsoothes.“Let’sjustfindoutwhatwe’re dealingwithfirst.I’mgoingtogoback,butIhavetheweekendoff,so I’llcomeandstay,ok?”
“Idon’twantyoutoleave,Quinn.”Icry.
“Iknow,butIhaveto.”
Inodandhehugsmeagain.“Hanginthereandcallmewhenyou need.”
Hekissesmycheekandthenleaves.Icurluponmybed,panicking andtryingtocontrolmybreathing.Thiscan’tbehappening,surelyit’sa mistake.HowcouldIbesocareless?HowcouldIhavenotknownthatI forgotmypillaftergettingsickanditwouldendlikethis?God,Ican onlyimaginetheheadlinesnow.‘Mistressgetspregnanttotakeall Marcus’money’.God,whathaveIdone?Thiscouldn’tpossiblygetany worse.IlayinmybeduntilJayelleshowsupatmydoorwithahandfull ofbrownpaperbags.Sherushesinandclosesthedoor,lockingit.
“Comeon,up,weneedtoseeifthisissomethingtopanicaboutor not.”
“Ican’tfacethis,”Isay,coveringmyface.
“Youhaveto,nowgetup.”
Sheshovesmefromthebedandpushesmetowardsthebathroom.I takethebrownpaperbagshethrustsatmeandfeelmyliptrembling.
“Sierra,youneedtostaystrong.Goandpeeonafewdifferentsticks andwe’llseewhatwe’redealingwithhere.”
“Ijust…”
“Now!”shedemands,throwingherhandsonherhips.
Iturnandwalkintothebathroom,shuttingmybrainofffora moment.Likearobot,Isitdown,peeonthreesticksandthenwalkback out.Iamforcingmyselfnottothinkaboutit.ThinkingaboutitmeansI don’tfeelanything.Itwillbefine.I’mprobablyjustoverreacting.I’m probablyjustbeingstupidandstressedandthat’swhymyperiodislate.
Ithappens.Allthetime.JayellegrabsthetestsfrommyhandassoonasI walkoutandthenordersmetositonthebed.Idoandpeerupather throughmylashesasshechecksherwatch.
“Fiveminutes.”
“WhatamIgoingtodoifthey’repositive,Jay?”
Shesighs.“You’regoingtodealwithithoney,you’reoldenough, you’resmartenoughandMarcuswon’tleaveyoualone.”
“Itwillruinhiscareer.”
“Onlyifyouletit.Youdon’thavetobewithsomeonetoraiseababy together,hecanstillhelpyouout.”
“That’snothowIwantmyfirstchildtolive.”
“Thenyouworkitoutwithhim,eitherway,wewilldealwiththis.”
“Canwelookyet?”Icroak.
Shelooksdownatherwatchandnods.Withadeepbreath,sheturns thetestsover.Shestaresforalongmoment,herfaceexpressionless.
Whenshelooksupatme,Ican’treadadamnedthingshe’sthinking.
“Well?”Iwhisper.
“I’msorryhoney,butyou’repregnant.”
Imakealoud,strangledsoundandstand.“Areyousure,maybe they’rewrong,maybeweshoulddoanotherone.”
Shethruststhetestsatme.“Threetests,threedifferentbrandsand they’reallpositiveandstrongpositivesatthat.Idoubtit’swrong, Sierra.”
“No,”Icry,droppingtomykneesandgrippingmyheadinmy hands.“Thiscan’tbehappening.”
Jayellecrouchesdown.“Well,honey,itishappening.Youhavetobe strong,youcandealwiththis,youcangetthroughit.”
“Ohgod,”Icry.
“Shhhh,it’sok.We’regoingtogetyouthroughthis.”
“WhatwillMarcusthink?”Isob.“DoIeventellhim?”
“Thatchoiceisyours,fornow,youneedtoprocesswhatyou’re goingtodo,don’tworryabouthowitwillaffecthimatthem
oment.”
“Jayelle,I’mscared.”
Shewrapsherarmsaroundmeandholdsmeclose.“Iknowhoney, butwe’regoingtobeok.Ipromise.”
God,Ihopesheisright.
~*~*~*~*
MARCUS
Iflipthepaperoverandstaredownatthepage.Thereisamassive photoofBenonthecover,withahugereportabouthimbeingtheoneto abuseSierra.Iknowthebacklashthiswillhaveonhiscareer,butitwasa riskIwaswillingtotake.Hebroughtherdown,togetherheandChayne bandedtogether.IshouldhaveknownheneverreallywantedSierrato workforhim.AllalonghewasworkingwithChaynetogetsomethingon her.Theywantedtohurther,becausehurtingher,wouldhurtmeandthey didthatinhopesthatIwouldbreakandChaynewouldhavesomethingto fightmeon.Whatshedoesn’tknow,isthatIhavehadcamerasinher condoforthelastfivedaysandIcaughtheroutrightfuckingBen.Iguess thatwashispayment.
Iamwaitingforthecallnow.ThecallfromBen.Hewillknowitwas me,Iwanthimtoknowitwasme.Ileanagainstmydesk.Iworkedall nightandstayedhereattheWhiteHouse.Ididn’twanttogohomeand facethatapartmentalone.Ijustcouldn’tdealwiththepain.SoIworked, doingtheonlythingIknowwilldistractme.I’vebeenupallnightwith conferencesandcatchingup,butforthefirsttime,myworkhasn’t thrilledme.AllIcanthinkaboutisSierraandhowmuchIneedher.I can’thavelosther.Notthiseasily.
MyphoneringsduringabigemailsessionI’mhaving,Iglancedown andseeit’sBen.Grinning,Ianswerit.
“Benjamin.”
“I’llfuckingruinyou,MarcusHarrison.Youpieceofshit.I’ll fuckingruinyou!”
“Iseeyousawthearticle.Maybeyoushouldhavethoughtaboutthat beforebringingSierradown.”
“Ididnothingtoher!”
“See,IhaveproofthatitwasyouandChaynewhosetupthat reporter.Infact,Ihaveproofthatyoutwo…well…shallIsay…were havingagoodtimetogetherwhileyouwereplottingagainstme.”