Once Upon A Half-Time 2(121)
“I’m not hiding—”
“You’ve been hiding something since before then too.”
“Maddox, I’m really tired, I had a long day, I should get some rest—”
“Why did we break up?”
“I’m not getting into this now. It’s ten o’clock at night.”
“I spent a lot of nights in jail trying to solve that little mystery. Kept me up a lot later than ten.”
“I’m not picking a fight.”
“I deserve an explanation. A year ago, before the fire, you said we needed to take a break. Some time to think about us.” I gritted my teeth. “Why then? Why the day before we eloped?”
“Maddox—”
“A week after we started trying for a baby.”
Josie’s voice cracked. “Just stop. It was a long time ago. A lot has changed.”
“You think my feelings have changed? That I want anything different than what we agreed that night? I was ready to take you away. Ready to be a husband.” I quieted. “I wanted a baby with you.”
Josie said nothing. Neither did I.
Christ, it was never this hard before.
She was the only person who ever understood me. We’d never needed to talk anything out. We clicked. Whether we were soulmates or just fucking lucky, Josie and I were in love. I had no idea why a girl like her would ever lower herself to love a bastard like me, but we were meant to be together. Meant for something more.
A family. She promised me a baby. I wasn’t ready to let that dream die yet. Not when I knew it’s what she wanted too.
“You know I never had anyone I could trust,” I said. “No one I could rely on. No one who loved me more than whatever junk they injected in their veins.”
Josie’s voice softened. “I know.”
“I want a family. That…closeness. I’d be a good father and husband, Sweets. We could do it, you and me.”
“I know.”
Someone knocked on the door. I checked the time. Half the town went to bed an hour ago, and the rest waited for the local news to kick off before calling it quits. No one should have been looking for me.
No one who wanted a quiet visit, at least.
And now Josie decided to talk.
“You have no idea how much I loved that plan. I still do.” Her breathy whisper ached in my heart and twisted my jeans. “A family with you would be…you know I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.”
Goddamn it. These were the types of confessions best served in person, without clothes, beneath the covers. The phone wasn’t good enough.
The knocking was as annoying as it was unwelcomed. I grabbed the baseball bat I stashed near the door. I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder.
“I know the town doesn’t understand. I mean, I don’t understand it most of the time. But when I’m with you…it just feels…but that’s why we have to be so careful. We can’t pretend there’s no problems, and if we have a baby…”
The asshole pounded the door hard enough to break inside. Like he tried to escape whatever demon chased him from the devil and into my rented hell. I tensed.
Opened the door.
“There’s things happening beyond our control. We can’t risk—”
The woman waiting in the hall had a black eye, a torn book bag, and a habit that trembled her hand. She batted the dishwater blonde hair from her face and shrugged her shoulders.
She smiled like she cared. She didn’t have the right.
“Hey, little brother.” Chelsea gnawed on her lip. “Can I come in?”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“I guess…if you wanted to come and talk…maybe tomorrow evening, after I work? We could get something to eat—”
I swore. “Sweets, I’ll call you back.”
“But—”
I hung up on her and prepared for the next battle.
Chelsea didn’t wait for me to invite her inside. Hell, she never knocked on the door when we lived at home. I didn’t have a real room, just a blanket in the laundry-room after Dad sold the dryer for a pocket of drugs. The least she could have done was rap on the wall back then, get an ounce of human courtesy in her.
Wasn’t her game. I didn’t know what was up, but I could guess.
She was in trouble.
“You look good.” Chelsea forced a smile. It was more than I could say for her. The bruises were both self-inflicted from needles and the press of a man’s thumb too hard into her pressure points. “You’re out of jail.”
“Did you know I was in jail?”
“I heard.”
“From who?”
Chelsea hesitated before answering, and that meant I knew exactly who ran their mouth.