Criminal(43)

But when I pull up in the driveway of our old home, and I see his bike, I can barely bring myself to get out of the vehicle.

When he comes to the window, though, and I see the light and excitement on his face, it pulls at me.

Draws me in, like it was his siren song, and I'm his willing victim.

He opens the door for me, pulling me out and hugging me tight, just like nothing ever happened.

And once more, I fall under his spell and remember why I've loved him so much all these years. I pull away, trying not to lose myself to his rugged charm, but I'm hopeless. He's covered up a bit, a shirt covering the myriad of tattoos and, I'd guess, more than a few scars.

I look down at the ground, suddenly struck mute and shy.

"Abby, God, why didn't you call? I could've..." he trailed off. He knew there was nothing he could've done, and for a second, I wonder if he's forgotten how he left me. That he abandoned me.

And then it strikes him, wiping the smile from his face, and he steps aside, letting me in, suddenly more formal.

"You want some tea?"

"Sure."

I go into the old hallway, following the familiar path to the kitchen. He looks so good, though there's a bit of a limp to his step, and I guess it's from the fight. He didn't get medical attention for a while, maybe that caused some damage.

He puts on the kettle, and I look around at the sparsely decorated room. He doesn't have much, but it seems like he was able to salvage some stuff from mom and dad, and memories wash over me.

"How've you been? Your hair is great."

He shakes me out of my reverie, and I give him a smile and a nod.

"Thank you. And I'm good, fine. I enrolled in college, started last month," I say, licking my lips.

I went over it in my mind a thousand times how I'd tell him, but every time it fell flat. And I know, at least in part, it's because I don't know whether to be happy or not about the news.

He leans against the counter, his biceps bulging and looking so good. I remember how they felt wrapped around me for those whirlwind hours we were finally, blissfully together, and it brings a flush to my cheeks and a heat to my loins.

I'm actually upset by the fact that I still want him—annoyed, even. By the fact that when he talks, I'm still looking at that tongue stud, remembering how it felt against my pussy.

And now I'm paying the price.

I sit at the table, my purse resting at my feet, as I look up at him. Instantly I regret it, as I feel even smaller now, but I don't want to stand and draw attention to my discomfort.

"What about you?" I ask, looking around. "Guess you got the bail money returned?"

He nods, a sheepish smile on his lips.

"Yep. Just enough to get this place out of foreclosure and a few things from the auction. It's not much, but it's a start."

I wonder if he regrets giving me the money, but I know that's not true. He seems perfectly content without me in his life, and without the money in his life.

I swallow, nodding.

"That's good. It's nice to have it in good hands," I say, but my voice cracks, and he instantly comes over to me, his face marred with concern.

"Abby, what's wrong?"

I shake my head, wiping away a stray tear.

"It's nothing, nothing," I swear, but the words sound hollow and I know it.

His finger hooks in underneath my chin, making me look at him, stare into those beautiful green eyes. I long for him, even still, even after all he's done, but I can't let myself fall for him again. I can't let myself be hurt.

It's not just me anymore, but for the baby, too.

I have to protect us both from the stress and the agony of Kaiden's fickleness, and thinking he knows best.

I chew on my lower lip, nerves coiling within my gut, making me regret ever coming here.

I wish I'd just called him or sent a message online, but I wanted to do the right thing. But doing the right thing feels so terrible, like my stitches have been torn open.

"I have something I need to tell you," I say, my voice soft, and the kettle interrupts me with its whistle.

He cringes and takes it off the stove, coming back to me without pouring up my tea, though this time he doesn't touch my chin, doesn't touch me at all, and my heart turns to ice.

"Is it the money?" he asks, his voice filled with worry. "Did something happen to it?"

I shake my head.

"Axel?"

I shake my head again, and he opens his mouth to ask something else and I silence him with my words.

"I'm pregnant."

Two simple, easy words, said billions of times over the course of humanity. So why did they feel so wrong?

He takes a step back, as if I'd just turned poisonous, and I stand up, quickly.

"This was a bad idea," I say, grabbing my purse, but he reaches out and holds my wrist firm.

"You're pregnant?" he asks, his voice dark, as if he hadn't heard me right the first time, and I nod.