“Lose the tone.” She shoots a look in my direction. “I told you I will when I’m ready.”
“Great. So never then.” I don’t even bother hiding the snark in my voice.
“Jesus Christ. I didn’t invite you to come today so you can treat me like shit.” Turning to look out the passenger window, she huffs. She has more to say—I know it.
“Why did you invite me, Cass? Shouldn’t Derek be here with you?” My volume steadily climbs until I can’t hear the soothing sounds of Dwight Yoakam over my voice. Every momentary thought of self-doubt bubbles to the surface and runs like a river from my mouth. “Is the baby mine or his? You’re lying tosomebody, Cass. And if you aren’t sure who the dad is, then fucking say that. I don’t give a shit if you say you slept with a dozen other guys. But if the baby’s mine, I’m not going to be your dirty secret forever.”
“You think if there was any uncertainty, I would’ve gotten you involved? I could have easily carried on pretending nothing happened between you and me. The babyisyours. I just… it’s complicated telling my dad, okay? You know what our shitty town’s like.”
I probably should’ve known this would all come back to my family. That’s why she doesn’t want to tell her dad. Because Dave—and most people—hate me by association. All thanks to my father, Joe Thompson, the raging alcoholic who fucked over plenty of people in Wells Canyon. Drinking, fighting, stealing, crashing cars…. Dad’s bullshit got us run completely out of town when I was fifteen and even now, over fifteen years later, he’s ruining my life here. I’m still the loser, Cassidy is still the unofficial town princess.
“I get it. You made the choice to have sex with me, keep my baby, tell me I can be involved. I do every single thing you ask of me but, somehow, a cheating cuntbag still seems like a better father figure in the eyes of you and your dad and everybody else.”
Most of the people who hate me, or think I’m trash, don’t know me. That takes the sting away a little, usually. But this? This fucking sucks. We’ve been talking every day and acting like friends for weeks, yet Cass still sees me the way everyone else does. Nothing I’ve done is good enough. I bet nothing ever will be.
“That’s not—Shit.” She buries her head in her hands. “That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want to have a baby with Derek. But he and I broke up right before the rodeo, so it’s natural for people to assume. I hardly even liked you as a human being then. And you gotta know your reputation is… sorry, Iwilltell him. Okay? I’m not withholding shit to intentionally hurt you. My best friends know, your friends know. The only people who don’t,somehow, are my dad and the rest of town. You might not get it because I don’t know what the deal is with your parents, but my dad and I have only ever had each other. And…” Her voice is unsteady, and I don’t need to look at her to know she’s crying, which instantly stops any trace of anger running through my veins.Damnit.Now I feel like a dick for bringing this up. “You should’ve seen how disappointed he was when I first told him.”
“You let him think it was Derek’s to make him a bit less disappointed.”
She sniffles hard, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her sweater and tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. “Not intentionally, no. He might think Derek provided the sperm, but as far as my dad is aware, I’m completely on my own. His disappointment is solely in me. I don’t want him to think I’m a slut who’s running around sleeping withyou… sorry, no offense.”
I don’t bother replying. What’s the use? I already knew she didn’t want people finding out about that night—she’s made it clear from the beginning. So I turn the stereo dial, cranking classic country music, and neither of us speaks for a painful forty-five minutes.
“Can we please be a united front here today? I think the only thing worse than the sad looks I get when I’m alone in the waiting room would be the looks I’d get if we’re fighting,” she says, once we’re finally out of the suffocating pickup and walking across an empty, sun-filled parking lot. The beautiful day, birds chirping, and the warm breeze are heckling my sour mood.
“I don’t want to fight with you. I just want…”How do I say what I want without seeming pathetic?That I need some security here. I need to know she won’t drop me the moment I’m not at her beck and call.
“What?”
“Nevermind. We won’t fight. Let’s go.”
I follow Cass into the sunny, white waiting room, and we sit the closest we ever have. I suppose because it would seem weird if we left an empty chair between us. She smells like vanilla, and her knee keeps bumping into mine, sending warm flutters through my chest and sparks under my skin. The couple across from us is holding onto each other like their life depends on it, and my eyes jump between their hands and ours. Sharing an armrest, we’re close enough I could loop my pinky around hers if I didn’t think she’d deck me for it. God, I want to try—a broken nose might be worth it. If she has any of the same thoughts, her poker faceis way better than mine. Staring forward, I shuffle in my seat, pretending to merely be getting comfortable. My hand brushes against hers, and she doesn’t immediately recoil.
Win.
Taking a shot in the dark, I casually flex my hand so my fingers splay across hers—nothing more than regular old stretching happening here. When they relax, my pinky catches on hers and she pulls away, clasping her hands loosely in her lap.
Lose. Fuck.
So we sit in silence, and I cross my arms over my chest to keep from trying to touch her again.
When a nurse comes to bring Cass into the exam room, I’m suddenly very unsure what my role is. Do I stay here? Do I go? What if she needs to—I don’t know—get undressed or something, and we have to awkwardly explain that I’ve had my fingers, tongue, and dick inside of her, but I haven’t seen her naked.
Then she grabs hold of my arm and tugs me through the swinging grey door.
Not long after, a skinny, middle-aged doctor enters the tiny, sterile room without even bothering to glance at her, and busies himself typing and scrolling on his computer. “So, Cassidy, how have you been feeling?”
My eyes move from his giant, shiny forehead over to Cass, and I give her a look, letting her know she was right. He’s a total dickhead.
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Pretty good, actually. Barely any nausea, not as fatigued.”
“Good, good…”
For the next minute or so, there’s nothing but the sound of the blood pressure cuff. Apparently, this guy has never heard of bedside manner.
“Well, your blood pressure is normal. Your endocrinologist is still handling your medications, correct?” Cass nods, and the doctor’s fingers clack on the keyboard. “As you know, you lost some weight during the first trimester. But you’re gaining it back quicker than I’d like to see, so be extra mindful of what you’re eating fromhere on out, okay?”
There’s an audible cracking, and I can’t tell if the sound came from my knuckles or my molars. It’s taking every ounce of energy not to hit this asshole. I thought it was common sense not to comment on a woman’s weightever, but when she’s pregnant and finally just stopped throwing up multiple times a day? That’s extra douchey. Yet Cass is shooting daggers in my direction, not his. And the fear of upsetting her keeps me cracking my knuckles over and over instead of doing what I want to do with them. Whatever the doctor and Cass talk about for the rest of the appointment sounds like TV static to me; tunnel vision has me staring at the blood pressure monitor and replaying Cassidy across from me on her couch.
