“I’m sorry for keeping that from you,” he tells me, his brows bunching together. “I’ll take you to the diner. We’ll just be careful.” He reaches under the seat and pulls out his baseball cap. I watch his determined, handsome face as he places it on my head and tucks my hair inside of it. “There, now you’re a boy.”
I try to force a smile but my lip ends up quivering it away.
“Hey,” he says, his green eyes glittering with the playfulness I know, “let’s go get you a strawberry milkshake before you beat my ass with my baseball bat. You get mean when you’re hungry. Hunger is not a pretty look on you.”
This time I do smile and it’s genuine because his own grin is so infectious. Just like old times.
“I’m sorry for flipping out,” I murmur, my voice squeaking a bit as I swipe at my wet cheeks with the back of my hands. “I don’t mean to keep taking it out on you. Thank you for all you’re doing to help me through this.”
He leans in and kisses me softly on the corner of my mouth. “We’re in this together, babe. Until the very end.”
“Will that be all?” the waitress questions, her eyes lingering on Brandon. A familiar, yet ridiculous pang of jealousy, grates at my nerves at her blatant ogling of him.
“No,” I clip out, making sure to keep my face hidden beneath the baseball cap, “I need to order a chicken finger special to-go.”
She scribbles on her note pad and then scurries away. When I lift my eyes to Brandon, he’s frowning.
We’d had a fairly quiet dinner until this point. He’d been looking over his shoulder every five seconds while I tried not to think about my mom’s death or my dad’s disappearance. And especially not what happened to War. Every time I did, my heart would ache and tears would well in my eyes. It was easier just to focus on my greasy fries and milk shake. To distance myself from the all-consuming pain.
“What?”
“Did you order that for,” he spits out the next part as if he’s disgusted, “him?”
I lift my chin and nod. “I’m trying to draw information out of him. I know there’s more he’s not telling me about my dad. Maybe if I’m nice he’ll give it to me and then we can go find him.”
He rolls his eyes and curses under his breath as if I’m just a stupid girl who knows nothing. I’m once again irritated by his moody behavior.
“What?” I demand.
Shrugging his shoulders, he stares off into the crowded restaurant. “It’s not going to work, babe. Gabe’s a liar. He’ll manipulate you into letting him go. Then, he’ll hurt you again,” his voice drops to a whisper. “We need to get rid of him.”
I study his features. The clenching jaw. The way his nostrils flare with anger. How his narrowed eyes scrutinize me. I don’t know this man. The boy who hugged me earlier and cried into my hair when he thought I was leaving him, I know him. This guy though, the asshole, I can’t even begin to understand who he is and I certainly don’t like him a bit.
“I don’t want it to be easy on him, believe me. But he needs to pay for what happened to me and what he did to those I love. I want him to think about what he’s done every day in a tiny prison cell for the rest of his life. Once we get what we need from him, we’ll call the police.” My voice is firm and unwavering. I’ve thought a lot about this. Brandon and I are just two young adults. We’re not killers. I won’t let him kill for me and I certainly want to be a good parent to my future child. Murdering someone, even the devil, is a bad start to motherhood.
He scoffs at my words. “The police? We can’t get them involved. We’ve been through this, babe. They think you’re involved in War’s murder.” He bares his teeth slightly as the last word rolls off his tongue. It cuts me deep and affects me more than being accused of the one who did it. “Remember?”
Murder.
Murder.
Murder.
The world spins around me and my belly rumbles as my dinner threatens to make a reappearance. I swallow to keep from throwing up and hiss at him. “How could I forget? I was there. Remember?” Tossing his word back at him, I meet his glare before I start scooting out of the booth. “I need to go to the ladies room.” Snatching up my purse, I hightail it past the flirtatious waitress and into the bathroom.
Once inside with the door locked, I slip into the stall and open my purse. Tears roll down my cheeks and drip from my face as I hunt for the pregnancy test I’d purchased. On autopilot, I open the test, and follow the instructions in taking it. Once I do, I sit on the restroom floor as I wait for the result. My eyes close and I think about War.