Once Upon A Half-Time 2(72)

She grabbed my arm. I resisted the urge to shake from her touch.

Christ, how pathetic was I that I needed to feel her hands on my skin?

“I have feelings for you,” she said. “Nate, I’ve never felt like this before, and that’s why we can’t rush into anything. I know you’re hurting, and this news is so shocking…but getting married for the wrong reasons isn’t noble or practical. It’ll only end in heartbreak. I don’t want that. It’d hurt too much.”

Now I did pull from her. I left my voice low. Raw.

“Yeah. Heartbreak sucks, doesn’t it?”

Mandy called my name. I ignored her.

The door slammed shut behind me.

What was I doing?

What was I supposed to do?

I had to be calm, rational, and, above all else, comforting to the woman who seemed terrified to be having a baby.

My baby.

So far, I was doing a piss poor job of it. It wasn’t fair to her to leave, but if I didn’t sort my own shit out first, I’d say the wrong thing and ruin everything. If I wanted to take care of her, I had to work through my own emotions.

Even if I felt…betrayed.

Not because she hid the truth, but because she feared that I wouldn’t have been there, helped her, or wanted her.

She didn’t trust me, and the thought tore me apart.

I drove to my bar, but I didn’t want to fight the crowd. Even isolated in my office, I’d have to fight through memories of her. Christ, she had tried to tell me about the baby that one day. Of course, I’d interrupted her and pressured her and chased her for all the wrong reasons.

Goddamn it. I was an idiot. Blind to the most obvious thing any other man would have instantly realized from his woman. I knew Mandy was in trouble. She acted distant, was sick with stress. She guarded herself as best she could against my charm, but I’d never met a woman I couldn’t seduce.

We hadn’t moved too fast, I just never stopped to see what she needed along the way.

And it was me.

Or I thought it was.

I drove until I had no other place to go. Then I pulled into my parents’ driveway.

It was late, but the light in the study was on. Dad said he prayed better at night, but he still enforced a strict silence during the day when Mom and I were home.

The curtains stirred. I had a key for emergencies, but I never used it. As far as I was concerned, I escaped the house. That severed all ties.

Except now.

Figured.

I knocked. Dad answered after a moment. He stood in the doorway, somehow colder than the door itself. I matched his scowl.

It was a mistake to come here.

“Nathan.” Dad’s voice rang with condescension. “Would you like to come in?”

Any other father would have extended the invitation as a means to console an obviously troubled son. Not my father. His sneer was vindicating, as though he expected this moment. He’d always warned me of my errant ways and womanizing.

Except Pastor Kensington wasn’t afraid for my mortal soul. He wanted to make sure our good name wasn’t marred by my indiscretions.

So he’d probably love this.

I accepted the invitation inside, but I lurked in the entryway like a stranger. I followed him to his study. Nothing had changed there. No dust. Not a spec of anything out of place. The only clutter he permitted was his Bible, and even that was for show.

He sat behind his desk with a brand new laptop, probably purchased through the church. The silence crackled.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“Asleep, as most decent people are at this hour.” Dad didn’t blink. “Why is my son out so late?”

“I got news.”

“News? You don’t call your mother. You don’t attend church. You don’t respect me. What makes you think I’m interested in your news?”

“You’ll find out sooner rather than later. Probably best if it’s sooner.”

“Then perhaps you should start with an apology to your honored father?” Dad always was a stickler for humility. “Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.”

I gritted my teeth. “Luke 15:21.”

“Very good.”

“I’m not the prodigal son returning.”

“Of course you aren’t. So why are you here?”

I sucked in a breath. “Mandy Prescott is pregnant.”

Dad didn’t blink. “Yours?”

“Yes.”

If he was surprised, he hid it well. I didn’t look away, meeting his green eyes. Mom always said we looked alike, but the similarities ended there.

“Marry the girl.”

I knew it was coming. “I tried. She refused.”

“Try again. This is important. Both of our families are respected in this community. I’d hate to think what a scandal like this would cause.”