He lets out a huff. “If only I was there to clean you up and get you to bed.”
“I wish you were.” I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the couch and losing myself in a daydream of curling up against his naked body. It’s quiet, save for the sounds of our slow panting and city traffic. I hold a hand to my chest, feeling the steady drum of my heart. If I try hard enough, I might be able to pretend it’s his thunderous pulse against my palm. What I wouldn’t give to be snuggled up next to him right now.The warmth of his flushed skin against mine, his calloused hand petting my hair, and the slowing breath as he drifts to sleep.
“How’s your trip?” he asks after a few moments of silence.
“It’s been fun. Clubbing is a lot less fun sober, but spending time with Blair and Max has been great. Blair and I are going baby shopping tomorrow, too.”
“Max?” I swear I hear his spine stiffen through the phone.
“Short for Maxine. Calm down. You think I’d call you if I was hanging out with another guy?”
“No other guys—that’s the deal, remember?”
If I rolled my eyes any harder, they’d come out of the sockets and bounce down the hallway. “No, the deal is no sex with anybody else. Quit the possessive shit. We’re not a couple—I can hang out with guys.”
Not the time or place to confess that I actually turned a guy down tonight by saying I had a boyfriend because I’m actually not interested in anybody else. The problem is, I don’t know if I’m truly interested in Chase, either.
“We could be… a couple.”
I sit straight up, a jumble of Blair’s words about leading him on swimming through my orgasm-hazed brain. A couple? Shit. Shit.Shit. I should have ended this weeks ago instead of giving him the wrong idea. I knew a friends-with-benefits arrangement was stupid. Damn hormones got the better of me, and now I’m in over my head.
“Chase, I told you I didn’t want to risk fucking things up between us. Honestly, things are probably too messy as it is, and I wasn’t trying to make you think this could turn into something more. I’m sorry for making you think we could be… I’m not in the right headspace for a relationship with anybody. I need to focus on the fact that I’m having a baby in a few months. I know we keep saying it’s the last time, but I’m serious now. I think it would be best for Little Spud if we just be friends… nothing more. No more benefits.”
“Okay,” he mumbles. He’s lying. I know him well enough to know the tone in his voice means it’s not okay, which absolutely guts me. “Just… ifyou ever decide you want to date somebody, consider giving me a chance? Get some sleep, Cass. Sweet dreams.”
I’m crying before the line goes dead. I know we need to set boundaries to be effective co-parents. I refuse to trap him with a baby, force a relationship neither of us would’ve wanted if it weren’t for Little Spud. Getting together only because I’m pregnant will lead to resentment, detachment, and a future broken home.
So, as painful as it is, pushing him away is better. We’ll both suffer for a while, but one day we’ll realize that sticking to being friends was worth it. It’s what’s best for Little Spud. I know I can’t lead him on, and I know we can’t be together. Those words play on repeat in my head, the silent mantra behind the tears.
20
Red
30 weeks (baby is the size of a loaf of bread)
Cassidy texted me to say she made it home safe and we should have a talk about boundaries after the holidays—then silence. I know we’re apparently done hooking up, but after four days apart, I genuinely expected she would give in. Even if not, we’re supposed to still be friends… and this feels like I’m not even somebody she’d make polite small talk with in the goddamn grocery store.
I should’ve kept my big fucking mouth shut instead of admitting I didn’t just want to be whatever the hell we were.I can’t believe I suggested we be together.Hell would freeze over before Cassidy would be interested in dating me. Her dad hates me. Her friends are probably indifferent, at best. And, even though she calls me Chase now, I’m still Red deep down. I’m still a fuckup kid from a fuckup family. A wave of ruin, liable to destroy the future she deserves. Unworthy of somebody so incredible, so bright, so beautiful.
Denny chucks a log onto the bonfire—our thrown-together New Year’s Eve celebration, since going to the big party at The Horseshoe isn’t an option. “Who wants a turn against the reigning champ?”
“Yeah, me.” I take a long pull of whiskey to stay warm, then hand the bottle to Kate. Jackson climbs onto the snowmobile with a devilish look, and I know he’s not going easy on us. The kids are in bed and all bets are off.
Denny and I hop onto our GT snow racers—sleds meant for small children, with tiny, plastic seats strapped to three ski blades. We’re seriously testing the weight limits, and my knees are up to my chest when I sit down. We must look ridiculous. But towed behind a snowmobile at high speeds, they’re fun as fuck. At the very least, it makes for a great temporary distraction.
I barely have time to give the nod that I’m ready before Jackson’s taking off, sending us jolting forward with a sharp yank of the tow ropes. We’re floating across the snow-covered hay field, guided by the headlights on the snowmobile. The bonfire at the far end of the field is a faint orange glow, and I struggle to make out Denny on the other sled. Until he veers the tiny, barely functional steering wheel on his snow racer and heads right toward me.
Motherfucker.
The object of the game is to knock your opponent off. Denny’s been the champ three winters in a row because, apparently, his experience as a saddle bronc rider is actually good for something. He has surprisingly good balance.
Just before the front ski of his sled crashes into mine, I kick my foot out and give him a hard shove. He shoots away with an echoing, goofy laugh, and I make chase. Cranking the tiny plastic wheel and tearing after him. Jackson turns the snowmobile, helping give me the upper hand as I glide across the fresh powder.
Neither of us is prepared for a sudden acceleration when our sleds make contact. I’m thrown backward, reflexively grabbing Denny’s arm and dragging him down with me. In a giant cloud of powdery snow, we tumble onto the ground.
Denny jumps to his feet with a grin. “I win that round, you fucker. You hit the ground first.”
Jackson swings the snowmobile around to pick us up. “Nah, that was a tie. You went off at the same time. Tie breaker?”
