“I’m showing up,” I counter. “And I always have, so I’ve earned the right to voice a fucking opinion here. Unlike Dalton, who I’d bet my life tampered with your birth control.”
She crosses her arms and rests against the side of the car. “I don’t love him, but Dalton has been nothing but sweet to me. He’s handled all of this with a lot of class. And aside from that, this is what’s best for the baby. With the long hours I work, it just makes sense. And it’s what my parents would want. Don’t let this come between us. This is hard enough. None of this was my plan—or his—certainly not this pregnancy or moving in together, but here we are. I’m going to embrace everything that comes with it. You, of all people, should understand making sacrifices for a child.”
“You don’t have to sacrifice. Come home with me,” I plead, my stomach wrenching. “I’ll keep you both safe. I’ll give you everything you need.”
“Ryker”—she sighs, exasperated, as she swirls her long coffee-brown hair on top of her head—“I’m not going to … Please drop it.”
This is a losing battle. Mercy has always dug her heels in further when pushed. I went through this same bullshit with my mother, watching her believe in a man who would only end up hurting her. There was no talking to her either.
I should kill Dalton. Mercy would hate me now, but maybe she’d thank me someday. Unlikely. If I murdered the father of her child, I’d lose her forever. She’d be safe though. Fuck. She’s right. I can’t prove anything. Everything I’ve heard is speculation. No one had any evidence, and Hailey Holden had her own sketchy story. Other than that, on paper, this guy looks okay. But I feel it in my gut. Those rumors are true. Unless I am reaching because … doesn’t matter. I’m too late. She’s having another man’s baby. This is one of those crossroads where every route leads to loss.
So, I move to damage control. “Eighty-six means foul play in the casino. Can you remember that?”
“Of course,” she says, so I go on.
“If there is ever anything you need … if you’re ever in danger or even just have a bad feeling, you text me eighty-six, and I’ll be there. No matter the time. Memorize my phone number so if you have to text from a different phone, you can. I’ll know it’s you. If you’re somewhere other than at home, leave an address or landmark.”
Her brows knit together in concern as she squeezes my arm. “I’m fine. I don’t like you this upset. You’re worrying for nothing.”
Fuck, I hope so.
“Promise me,” I demand.
“I promise. If I’m ever in danger, I’ll text you eighty-six.”
My phone vibrates in my palm, pulling me back to the present.
Axel: Did you sleep last night?
Me: A solid five hours.
I’m generally lucky to get three, even after exhausting myself with an hour or more of swimming laps in our pool.
Axel: That’s something. Feeling rested?
Me: More than I have in about four years.
Maddox: Update? Did you let her friend-zone you already?
Me: Definitely not. She’s pissed, but I felt a spark from her. Time to play hard to get.
Maddox: Oh fuck. Please do it here. I want a front-row seat to this train wreck.
Me: WTF? Who said it would be a train wreck?
Maddox: You can’t play hard to get when you’re obsessed.
Cash: Agreed, but it’s a sound strategy if he can pull it off. It works famously with Martina. Bro might be onto something.Want me to tell your girl you’re celibate too?
Me: Say nothing about me. Ever. Keep your mouth shut.
Maddox: Tell me this, man. If the answer is no, I will take back my train-wreck jab. Did you sniff her? Smell her hair?
This is the problem with my brothers. I really hate it when they know shit.
Me: No comment.
Cash: Goner.
