So. Long(188)
If only I could trust that he’d always feel that way.
I twist out of his arms and run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I hit the lock just as he rattles the handle. “Mo? You okay? Are you sick again?”
Leaning against the counter, I put my hand on the door. “I just need a minute. Actually, I think I just need some time to think. I’m sorry, Danny, but I can’t do this right now. I’m just—”
“I get it. You haven’t decided yet.”
I cup my hand over the baby bump that hasn’t even happened. My lungs seize. Tears stream down my cheeks, though I try to stop them with trembling knuckles.
There are so many words I should say. But all I can do is hunch over the tiny heart beating inside my womb and hold myself together with my own arms.
His voice rasps through the crack between the door and the frame. “I—I just want you to know I’m here. For you and the baby. I’m not running off. I’m not leaving. I’m not going to abandon you. Ever. I want this baby, Mo.”
The silence seeps around the door for the longest time.
After several minutes, he adds, “And I want you. More than anything, I want you.”
I’m helpless. There’s not a thing I can do to make her see I love her. Or to make her trust me. She never answered what I said about leaving her. She didn’t say another word all night.
She stayed holed up as though she couldn’t stand to look at me. I waited outside the bathroom until Slade came home in the wee hours of the morning and asked me to leave.
My heart weighs three tons.
All I want is to take care of her.
Now I lean against a bank of windows.
The construction seems to never end at this airport. Bulldozers push dirt this way and that. Ten men in hard hats stand around in the summer sun, watching one man dig a hole.
Why do they never have ten guys digging the hole? Because a man can dig a hole he can’t get out of all by himself.
I sure as hell did.
All the snubbing my nose at my dad and his fucking rules—except the one rule I should have ignored from the start, no matter the cost. All the girls I paraded in front of Mo, trying to make myself feel better since I couldn’t have her. I used those girls to build walls between me and who I wanted most.
I blocked out my feelings, so I couldn’t see Mo past it all. It never really worked though. I was always aware of her, always knew she was right there, just on the other side.
Now those walls have collapsed on top of me, burying me beneath a giant pile of shit I can’t seem to climb out of. She probably thinks I’m not capable of a solid relationship, because I’ve never been in one. But I was never in one because the only relationship I’ve ever wanted was with her.
What the fuck have I done?
I thought I was building walls to protect myself, protect her. What I was really doing was laying bricks for my own mausoleum.
A flood of people come through the revolving door from the concourse into the baggage claim area. Rachel drags her carry-on behind her, her mouth set in a grim line. I let out a defeated sigh. How do I tell her how badly I’ve messed up with Mo?
I wrap my arms around Rach, giving her a kiss on the top of her head. “Hey, Sis. How was the flight?”
She shrugs. “How’s Mom? How’s Mo?”
I cringe.
“That bad, huh?”
“You have no idea.”
She hooks her arm around mine and bumps me with her shoulder. “Then tell me.”
* * *
By the time I’ve given Rach all the nasty details, minus the sexiest parts about me and Mo, we’re passing the gaggle of reporters camped out by our front gates.
“Man alive. Look at that.” Rachel turns to stare out the back window as we pull through the massive iron bars that keep our private lives—well, not-so-private now, I guess.
At the house, Rachel gets out of the car, casting a look down to the guest house. “So, she’s gone?”
“Yeah. Staying with Slade.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “Slade? Like, Slade Slade?”
“They’re friends I guess. I had no idea until she told me he was her study partner for one of her summer classes.”
Inside, Mom’s on the sofa asleep, a bottle of vodka and a glass on the end table. My gut hardens.
Rachel shakes her head. “Here we go again.”
Dad comes in and smiles at Rachel. “Hey, Pumpkin.”
She steps closer to me, no smile in return. “Dad.”
He frowns and tosses a disapproving look my way. “Your brother been telling tales? Rachel, please don’t believe everything you hear.”
She pushes away from me and grabs her backpack from my hand, backing toward the stairs. “I have no idea what to believe right now. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”