“I don’t know where to start.” Her words are snappy and frustrate me.
Her having told me there are things I don’t know has a shot of panic, mixed with a tinge of anger, rushing through me. If I had to guess, it has to do with why she had a panic attack and reached for the whiskey. Which is really beginning to hit her now with the way she’s swaying slightly in her seat, looking unsteady.
This isn’t the best time to have this conversation, but I’m tired of fucking waiting. “Maybe try starting from the beginning. For example, was it the happy news that caused you to have a panic attack? I don’t understand. I know you, Iz. I saw the look onyour face, and that shit doesn’t add up.” My voice is firm, and my question is direct.
She scoffs with a dry laugh that holds no trace of humor. Her eyes instantly flash to meet mine, and I can see the war raging behind her emerald depths. The fire there tells me I won’t like what I’m about to hear.
“You really wanna know?” she slurs out, pushing to stand on unsteady feet.
Yep, she’s fucking wasted.
“Of course, I want to know, Iz. I don’t know what the hell could possibly–”
“We had a fucking baby, Jettson!” Her hands are placed firmly on her hips as she leans in toward me, shouting at the top of her lungs. “We had a baby,” she repeats, her voice lower now, almost a whisper. As soon as the second sentence escapes her mouth, she drops back down to the couch, and her entire body deflates in defeat as a sob overtakes her.
I’m stunned, speechless. There’s no way I’ve heard her correctly.
“What? How— W-when?” I ask, my voice shaky and unsure, displaying every emotion coursing through me. I’m trying to process what she just told me, but I feel so fucking confused.
She doesn’t respond, and it sets me off. I instantly stand, rush to her, pull her up by the shoulders, and remain holding on to them. One of my hands cups her chin, forcing her to face me and look me in the eyes as she continues explaining and shattering my devastated heart.
“Izabel!” Her name on my tongue comes out like venom, shouting it, demanding answers.
“I-I… I found out after… we ended things,” she slurs, barely audible, the alcohol fully kicked in now, making her damn near incoherent.
Not caring that she’s clearly not in her right mind, I push forward. “What happened to the baby, Izzy!? Where is he? She?FUCK! How the fuck could you keep this from me!?” My words sputter out so quickly that they damn near all mesh together. My grasp on her shoulders tightens slightly. The confusion morphs into anger as each second ticks by, and I further process the reality of her confession.
We had a child.
A baby.
How the fuck could she keep this from me?
She sways from side to side beneath my hands, clearly feeling the effects of the whiskey.
Fuck.
There’s no getting clear answers out of her right now, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. “Where’s the baby, Izabel!? Fucking tell me!”
“Didn’t...” she chokes out through a sob, dropping her head against my chest. I release my grasp on her shoulders and take a step backward, which leaves her stumbling forward. I don’t have it in me to comfortherright now.
“Didn’t what!?” My words come out louder than I intend, the rage clearly overtaking me, trying to rein it back in.
I will never understand how she could keep this from me.She knew. She knew how much she meant to me. She knew how badly I wanted a family and a life with her.
“Jett!” Abbie’s voice shouts in a panic as she comes into view from the direction of the pasture, and she runs directly to me. “I went to check on my horse. She’s sick. And the main barn, it—”
“Not a good time,” I say dryly in a firm voice, leaving no room for negotiation as my eyes return to Izzy.
“You’ll have to make it a good time!” Abbie says on a scream as panic clearly takes over. I stand, rushing toward her.
“Hey, hey, what’s—” I’m cut short by the intense, unmistakable smell that wafts through the air, and I glimpse the chaos unfolding above us. Black smoke fills the sky, sending my heart into a frenzy.
My eyes instantly shoot to Abbie’s, who's clearly in a panic. Resting my hands on her shoulders, I force her to take a deep breath with me. “Abbie, breathe. What happened?”
“The fucking barn, it’s up in flames. I heard a noise, and the next thing I know—” I take off before she can finish that sentence.
I stop in front of a very drunk, half-asleep Izzy. “We aren’t done. Once you sober up, this conversation continues,” I say, more as a demand than anything.
