My jaw hung in shock as nausea rose in my belly. I rolled over to my back, pressing the phone against my chest—why? The idea ofKayleigh as Garrett’s short-term toy was one thing, but themotherto hischildwas another. Suddenly, all the naive hopes I had for reconciliation scalded my heart. He wasn’t going to come back, was he? He would never be a father to our girls, or apologize to us, or be the husband I always hoped he would be.
Hot flush rushed to my face, nausea right at its heels.
I scrambled off the bed, my phone clattering to the ground as I rushed to the bathroom and busted my knees against the tile floor. My fingers scraped into the roots of my hair, propping my elbows on the rim of the toilet seat. Pain twisted in my stomach like I’d eaten something bad. Why, oh why, was this happening? Is this why he was too busy to pay hisotherchildren a visit? Staring straight into the water below my face, I tried to keep my head. I knew breathing was important, but dammit, every breath came through a straw—barely expanding my lungs with air. My staccato breaths mingled with quiet whimpers as the betrayal of abandonment tore my heart to pieces.
An abrupt sob—loud and uncontrolled—wrenched from my throat.
Why was he doing this to us?
What had I done to deserve it? Our girls would have a half-sibling. How could I ever tell them that? Would they find out on their own? Would Garrett want to introduce them to the baby? What if the girls liked being with Garrett and Kayleigh and the baby more than me?
Oh, I was spiraling, but I couldn’t stop. The edges of my vision flickered with darkness and my breaths grew painful. The last thing I expected tonight was a panic attack but…my inhale wheezed as a cinderblock landed on my chest and pain rippled down my arms.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight it.
But it was no use.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Jesse
Everything was going fine until false hope ruined me.
After Tag called, the rest of the day spun by in near perfection. Any time Hollie and I crossed paths, she beamed—full smile, shimmering eyes. Each of our interactions were so positive, I convinced myself she would bring a plate of dinner out to me just like she did the night before. And I couldn’t wait.
I was on track to be done with my work and inside the cabin by 9:15 p.m. or so, but, like an idiot, I delayed in the barn, waiting for her. I oiled saddles in the tack room. I swept out an old closet, tinkered with the watering system, and found random things to spit-shine so I could be available when she came.
By 10 p.m., I realized I was a fool.
If she hadn’t come by now, she probably wouldn’t.
Which meant she forgot.
I tried to tell myself it was fine, but it wasn’t. Not because I was hangry and exhausted and didn’t want to eat cereal without milk in the cabin, but because herforgettingabout me stung.
Especially when she was all I could think about.
I hadn’t tried to hide my interest in her, being honest every chance I got. But bothering with a woman who lived hundreds of miles away could probably be summed up with the termwishful thinking. Even still, I couldn’t ignore the turning in my gut.
Or the quiet voice urging me,don’t let her get away.
Feeling small, I put my tools away and reached to flip off the light. Then footsteps crunched through gravel in the barnyard. My heart jumped with boyish hope as I stepped into the barn corridor to see Hollie standing there with a foiled plate in her hands. I knew my smile looked too eager, but I couldn’t feign indifference to her if my life depended on it.
She wore pajama bottoms, a loose white t-shirt, and a messy bun—her best look yet. “Hey, Hollie.”
“Hi.” While I was still a ways off, she held out the plate between us. “Here. You don’t have to stop what you’re doing.”
“No trouble. Good to see you.” I got close enough to take it. She pocketed her hands and stepped away to put distance between us. My smile faded.
“I went to your cabin to put it in the fridge but the front door was locked.”
“Oh.” All that hope crashed into my stomach. “Gotcha.”
“I should’ve taken your plate out earlier, but I forgot until a few minutes ago.” Her voice rasped like she was getting a cold. “Anyway,” she whispered, swiping a curl behind her ear, “I should be going.”
“Would you like to sit with me for a few minutes?”
She hesitated. “I shouldn’t.”
