Tears filled my eyes and spilled over to run down my cheeks. “I was so afraid of disappointing you.”
“Baby, you could never do that.” With two long strides, my father crossed the room and gathered me into his arms. “And now we’re in this together. Whatever you decide, Mom and I will be there to help out.”
I nodded, wiping at my face. “I feel like such an idiot. I’m smarter than this. Aren’t I? I never thought I’d be the girl who was stupid enough to get pregnant with a guy who she doesn’t even know.”
My dad frowned, obviously uncomfortable. “I don’t want to talk to my daughter about her sex life, believe me.” He traded glances with my mother. “And it would be a hell of a lot easier if this had happened with a man you loved, who you knew well, someone you wanted to be with for the rest of your life.”
“I know.” I twisted my fingers together. “I haven’t—I mean, this wasn’t the sort of thing I do. One-night stands aren’t typical for me. At all. Like never. Just this once.”
“I’m sure.” Dad held up his hand, and I knew hereallydidn’t want to discuss this. “But it doesn’t do much good to sit here and harp on the if-onlys, does it? So let’s focus on the here and now.” He patted my shoulder.
“Dad’s right.” My mother leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “The first thing we need to do is get you to a doctor.”
“Okay.” I bit my lip. “I don’t have health insurance anymore, though, do I? I mean, I had it through the program that sent me to Amsterdam for school, but that ran out at the end of August.” That was one of the nagging worries that had kept me up nights for the last few weeks.
“No, Daddy made sure you were added to our insurance until you had your own. We should be able to find a doctor who can see you tomorrow. I’ll call around first thing in the morning.”
I was torn between feeling pitifully relieved that someone else was taking over and feeling slightly defensive that my mother was taking charge. “Um, maybe I could find someone. Do you have a list of which local doctors are covered by our insurance?”
“Oh.” Mom’s eyes crinkled as she thought. “I think there’s one on-line. I just thought it would be helpful if I did it, since I know where everything is.”
“I guess that’s a good point.” I let the relief win this time.
“We’ll hear what the doctor has to say . . . and then you can think about everything and come to a decision.”
I sighed, closing my eyes. “Right. A decision.”
Next to me, Dad wrapped one arm around my shoulders. “It’s going to be all right, sweetheart. I promise, it will.”
I wanted to curl myself into my father’s steady warmth as I had when I was a little girl, but this time, it wasn’t going to make everything better.
This time, even when he promised me, I wasn’t convinced that everything was going to be all right.
ChapterEight
Dean
“Lassiter, are you okay?”
Startled, I looked to my right where Sam Welston, a cow who played on special teams, sat eating his lunch. Only he wasn’t eating at the moment; his fork was poised in one hand, and he was gazing at me quizzically.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you.” I set down my own silverware. “Did you need something?”
“Just info.” Sam winked. “I was asking if you learned anything interesting when you had dinner with Coach the other night.”
For a crazy moment, I thought my teammateknew. My mouth gaped, and my stomach dropped.
And then Sam went on speaking. “About the game. Is Coach going to start Hayward or Willard on wide receiver?”
“Oh.” I rubbed my forehead. “Um, Hayward, I think. He said we’d see how they looked at practice on Thursday.”
“Cool.” He stabbed a piece of fish with his fork and stuck it into his mouth, chewing as he eyed me. “Are you sure you’re all right? You’ve been, like, silent all day. And just now, you looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
“Oh, yeah. Just . . . you know. Focused. Thinking about this weekend, the game—everything.” I picked up my napkin. “I have an exam tomorrow, and it’s kind of kicking my ass.” It was the truth, but it also wasn’t the reason for my brooding over the last few days.
“You know Dean. Always all up in his head about the next thing.” Norton, sitting across from us, put in his two cents. “That’s our boy. Thinking, thinking, thinking.” He tapped his temple.
For once, my snarky roommate wasn’t exaggerating. Thinking was all I’d been able to do for the last three days, ever since I’d heard Willow say those words.
