Say It Ain't So (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 9)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  When I opened them again, it was to find him staring at me as if he wasn’t in a hurry.

  “You scare the hell out of me,” I admitted. “And I couldn’t make myself open the door. No matter how hard I tried.”

  Something in his shoulders softened.

  “Addison is a buddy’s friend,” he said. “I’m catching a ride with her so I can go test drive a new bike.”

  With that parting comment, he walked away, leaving me staring there after him.

  Some of the tension in my chest released at his words.

  Desperately, I tried to calm my heart rate down.

  Since I thought he was letting me off quite easily, I chose to pick up my phone and text him right then and there, giving him my number, before I did anything else.

  Except, the moment that I had it in my hand, it rang.

  I sighed when I read the Caller ID.

  “Hello?” I answered the phone.

  “We’re going to the Back Porch Friday for lunch. Now that the Life 360 app says that you’re home, you can go, too,” my sister announced.

  I grimaced.

  Sometimes I really wished I hadn’t gone and gotten that app.

  But, since I liked to travel a lot, and there were times that my signal wasn’t all that great where I went, I chose to allow my family the freedom to check up on me.

  Only, they shouldn’t have even realized I was home unless my sister had the stupid notifications turned on that told them when I left and arrived.

  “I was going to call you and tell you that I was home. Meet up.” I paused. “Friday is pretty busy for me.”

  Friday being the day that I’d told myself I would go to the doctor despite the fact that I’d been too chicken shit to take the test yet.

  “What time is the doctor?” she asked softly.

  My sister and Suzanne had been the only two people that I’d told about my suspicions.

  I’d tell my parents—and the man responsible for my probable condition—when I had confirmation and not a second before.

  “Two,” I said.

  “We can be done by then. We’ll just move the lunch up to eleven. That way if everyone wants to talk, they can talk, and we’ll still get there in time. Is this appointment in Longview or Kilgore?” she rattled.

  My sister knew me too well.

  “Longview,” I said softly. “I can’t do it here.”

  She laughed. “I know what you mean. I wouldn’t do it here, either. Not with Aurora working at the only obstetrician’s office we have in town.”

  Precisely why I wasn’t going to the doctor here. I had picked one in Longview. Hell, I would’ve picked one in fuckin’ Louisiana, but I didn’t want to have to drive that far every single time I went to the doctor.

  “That’s perfect then,” she said. “We’ll act like we’re getting you groceries or something. Everyone knows that you avoid Walmart here.”

  I did that, too.

  There was only so much Walmart drama that I could handle.

  Walmart drama being in the form of my most recent ex being the supreme manager there.

  I say supreme manager because I thought it was redundant to call him a manager of the managers.

  “That’s what I’ll do,” I said quietly. “Hey, do I have to shave my pubic area for a thing like this? I don’t know the protocol.”

  She paused. “I could text Sierra.”

  That was an immediate ‘hell no’ on my part in the form of, “Fuck that.”

  Sierra, Aurora’s friend, just so happened to be a girl that Aurora had gone to nursing school with. Now, though they weren’t ‘best friends,’ they still kept in touch. Oh and did I mention that Sierra also happened to be Sierra Spurlock?

  I hadn’t realized that Sierra and my biker were related in any way until I’d told my sister my biker’s last name a few weeks ago.

  Now, I wanted to be very, very careful about what Sierra did and didn’t hear.

  “Umm,” I said. “No. I don’t think that’s a good idea. But, thank you anyway.”

  Sierra was in the NICU now. And though she didn’t work on the OB floor or anything, she did work with a lot of the OB doctors that were checking up on their littlest patients.

  That’d been what I wanted to do when I’d first started out in nursing school.

  Not that I ever would’ve gone that far.

  I highly doubted that a job would’ve liked the fact that I screamed out ‘fuck’ at the top of my lungs when we were trying to save a baby’s life. Or something to that effect got my heart rate elevated.

  “If you change your mind, let me know. I won’t let on that it’s you.” She paused. “But after stalking Sierra’s profile, I did find out a few things.”

  I felt my belly tighten. “What kind of things?”

  I could practically hear her wince over the telephone.

  “That Sierra and Sammy aren’t just related, they’re brother and sister related,” she said.

  I knew what she meant, even though those two things were the exact same thing.

  I hadn’t contemplated them being brother and sister.

  Grimacing, I walked to the window that was next to the door and peered out through the blinds.

  The girl’s car was nowhere to be seen.

  I hadn’t heard it crank up.

  “That’s great.” I sighed. “Please be careful about what you post about on social media.”

  My sister was a tad bit obsessive when it came to social media. Everybody knew everything when it came to her life.

  “I will, I promise.” She paused. “And you’re one to talk. I saw all those updates and crap you did while you were ignoring us.”

  “Yes, because that’s my job. I couldn’t just take a month off and ignore it. I still have a job that I need to do, and social media is a part of that,” I countered.

  Part of my job was to be active in the online community. That meant updating my status, sharing excerpts, and ultimately being accessible to all the people that had questions for me. I didn’t have the luxury of dropping out of my work life for a month like I did my personal life.

  “Whatever,” she teased. “I’ll see you Friday, right?”

  I smiled then.

  I’d missed my sister like crazy, and I actually was pretty excited about seeing them.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

  After a few girlish squeals from my sister, we hung up, and I stared at my phone.

  I wiped my hand down my face and then buckled down and took the first step.

  I pulled my text app up and took a deep breath.

  Me: Here’s me, making the first move.

  I waited an hour before I sent another text.

  Me: Are you there?

  I waited another thirty minutes before I sent one more text.

  Me: I want to see you again.

  There was no response.

  I’d tried to tell myself that it was just him driving that was the reason that he didn’t answer.

  That he would answer by morning.

  Only, there was no answer by morning, either.

  ***

  “What do I do?” I asked Suzanne over the phone.

  “Send him another text message,” she urged. “He wouldn’t have said he wanted you to text if he didn’t want to. Hell, if I wanted to avoid you, I wouldn’t have given you my number at all. I would’ve ignored the fuck out of you.”

  I snorted.

  But, sadly, Suzanne was correct. If he didn’t want me to talk to him, he would have said so, right?

  “All right,” I sighed. “Good luck with the driver’s education class you’re taking your son to. I have to get to work. Expect to have the book sent to you by the end of the week. If you don’t get it, remind me that I said I’d send it to you.”

  My just-finished manuscript went to my mom and another beta reader that I adored. But once I got it back from bot
h of them, my best friend destroyed it for me, building it into something better.

  My book was at the ‘ready to be destroyed’ phase.

  “Will do. Wish me luck.” She paused. “Fuck.”

  I laughed. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too,” she sing-songed as she hung up.

  Once again, I was left staring at the phone, wondering what the hell I should do.

  In the end, I decided to suck it up and send another text.

  I waited until the next day at noon to send the next message.

  Me: Hey, just checking in.

  Samuel Adams: Stop texting me.

  I stiffened.

  Me: I’m sorry. I thought you said to text.

  Samuel Adams: I asked you to stop texting me. And I meant it.

  I frowned hard and dropped my phone into my lap.

  Well fine.

  If he wanted me to stop calling and texting him, then I’d do it.

  Right fucking now.

  Chapter 8

  I think I’ve sprained my liver.

  -Hastings to Aurora

  Hastings

  There was no denying it now.

  I stared at the little white stick that was glaringly saying ‘PREGNANT’ in big bold letters.

  Fuck.

  Hell.

  Piss.

  Shit.

  Damn.

  “Did you take it?” Suzanne asked.

  “Yes,” I said, my voice sounding scared.

  “What does it say?” she asked, huffing and puffing. “Damn, it’s hard as hell to climb stairs now. I really need to get my knee fixed.”

  I couldn’t even muster up the strength to tell her that she was right.

  “It says pregnant,” I told her, sounding just as sick as I felt.

  I was pregnant.

  I was a single, pregnant woman with the baby daddy so far out of the picture that it was comical.

  Son of a bitch.

  How was I going to tell him?

  Hell, how was I going to tell my parents?

  I was fairly sure that my father still thought that I was a virgin.

  Maybe he would think that I immaculately concepted this child.

  One could only hope.

  “Oh, boy,” Suzanne said. “What does the other one say?”

  I looked at that one, too.

  “It says a pink plus sign.” I swallowed. “So, I’m guessing that is positive, too.”

  I swallowed even harder, hoping that by doing so it would keep my stomach contents down where it belonged.

  Only, that hadn’t been happening to me lately.

  Starting the week before I’d come back from Alaska, I’d had horrible morning sickness.

  Luckily it stayed as just morning sickness.

  Sadly, morning really did mean morning. From twelve a.m. to eleven a.m., there was a possibility that I’d puke. Thankfully, once noon hit, that meant that I could once again eat and drink like a normal person.

  And my God. My boobs were massive.

  I didn’t know what had happened at first. All of a sudden, they were just there, and big, and I could see them.

  Now, it all made a sick sort of sense.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  I turned in horror to stare at the door. I had no pants on. My hands were covered in pee because after I’d taken the first test, I went ahead and took eight more after that. Oh, and even at the eighth test, I still couldn’t quite figure out how to not pee on my hand while I peed on the stick.

  “Gotta go,” I whispered. “I’ll call you back.”

  After hearing her worried ‘okay,’ I hung up and dashed toward my room.

  I licked my lips nervously as I snatched up a pair of sweatpants, quickly washed my hands, and hurried to the door.

  I knew who it was.

  I didn’t even have to answer it to know.

  It was like there was a magnet in both of our chests, and it was calling me to him.

  Putting the white stick that I’d never put down, even to wash my hands, in my hoodie pocket, I reached for the door.

  Bile was still very much there when I first saw his handsome, perfect, dimpled, very pissed off face.

  “You never answered.”

  I stiffened when I heard that voice.

  I’d done a damn good job at not looking at him as I’d opened the door. At least, I’d tried to.

  But there was only so much that I could handle.

  And hearing his voice, even angry as it was, was enough to make my eyes move away from his shoulder to his face.

  I swallowed and forced myself to meet his eyes.

  “I don’t want to play games,” he said. “I texted. I called. I thought we had something going.”

  I got angry then, remembering messages I’d sent to him yesterday and the day before, then recalling the ones he’d replied back with.

  I pulled out my phone and opened up the message app, then turned my phone around to show him.

  “I did reply, asshole,” I said as I let him read.

  “There’s punctuation,” he murmured; eyebrows lowered so that there was a cute little crease in between them. “I don’t use punctuation. That wasn’t me.”

  I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone into my hoodie pocket, right along with the thing that shall not be named.

  I’d tell him. Really, I would.

  But I wasn’t going to tell him until I had it confirmed for sure.

  A pregnancy test wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, and I wanted to make sure that if I involved him in my life any further, that it was for real.

  That the baby was real, even though I knew in my heart that it was.

  “Then who was it?” I asked through gritted teeth. “Someone that knows punctuation, had your phone, and sent mean texts?”

  He gritted his teeth right back. I could practically hear his molars crunching together.

  “I don’t know, but you can bet your ass that I’ll find out.” He paused, head tilting. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have answered my texts or calls.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “I blocked your number,” I told him, tilting my chin just a little bit higher.

  His eyes narrowed.

  “Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” He paused. “Guess we’re not exploring this after all.”

  Then, without a word, he turned around and started walking back to his duplex.

  I wasn’t sure what to say or do after that, but I followed him outside, sure that I should say something. Anything.

  “Sammy, wait,” I called.

  He turned and stopped, and I caught up to him.

  “I’ll unblock you,” I told him.

  He laughed then before shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Don’t bother.”

  That was when the white stick fell out of my hoodie pocket and landed on the ground between us.

  Luckily, he didn’t turn back around to see what had fallen.

  Because if he had, he would’ve seen that my heart was on the ground right along with the pregnancy test, and he’d just discarded it like all the others.

  Chapter 9

  It would be neato if I could have some Tito’s.

  -Text from Hastings to Sammy

  Sammy

  Dad: Good morning, my sperms.

  Sierra: Gross, dad.

  Blue: You disgust me.

  Me: did you just add us to a group chat so you could say that

  Sierra: You know he did, dumbass.

  Me: dont call me a dumbass dumbass

  Sierra: Where did my clothes go?

  Dad: your brother threw them away for me.

  Sierra: you better not have thrown my favorite shirt away, asshole. I’ll find you, and I’ll murder you.

  Blue: I’ll help you.

  Me: I’m unsure what we’re even talking about.

  I gr
inned at my lie.

  Last week I’d gone out to eat with my mom, dad and sister. And my sister had worn the tightest, most revealing shirt she’d laid hands on.

  So, my dad had asked me to accidentally steal it.

  I had. And I’d thrown it in the trash can.

  Obviously, she’d known what we’d done, though.

  Sierra: y’all have fun on your bro date today. Bring me back some beer from Louisiana.

  Dad: anything for my girl.

  Me: I’d rather pluck my ball hairs than bring you beer

  Sierra: That’s okay. I don’t need you. I have a superb father who will do anything for me.

  And she did.

  Today when we rode to Benton, Louisiana to visit my dad’s brother who lived there, my dad really would stop and get her some beer all because he knew that she liked it.

  An hour later, I arrived at the Back Porch to find my father, Uncle Foster, my cousin Louis and Ford, my other cousin that belonged to the uncle we were going to visit, all waiting for me.

  They got off their bikes the moment that I pulled up.

  But instead of greeting them, my eyes automatically went to the car that was parked two spots over from the ones we were taking up.

  A white Chrysler 300. Just like the one that was always parked at the little house next to mine.

  My mood immediately soured.

  “Did you know that Sierra texted a girl I was interested in while she was asleep at my house a few days ago and caused that girl to block me?” I said to no one in particular.

  “That sounds like your sister,” Dad said. “Who’s this girl?”

  I didn’t bother telling him.

  Instead, I got off my bike and began to walk inside.

  After a quick scan of the inner building, I figured she had to be outside.

  “Would you like to sit inside or outside?” the hostess asked as soon as I looked at her.

  I swallowed, wondering what in the hell I was doing. “Outside.”

  Though, technically, we always sat outside.

  It was the more relaxed atmosphere between the two halves of the building. If you sat inside, you were there for the family time. If you sat outside, it was more for the entertainment.

  Not that there was much entertainment to be had when it was eleven o’clock in the morning on a Friday. People still had work to do.