Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“I don’t have anything, babies,” I told them. “I will cut you up some bread later, okay?” I added. Two wandered off, ready to go scratch in the ground for some bugs. The third one, though, hung by my legs, pecking at my shoes.
Sucking in a steadying breath, I hit my mom’s contact, hearing my heartbeat hammering in my ears so loudly that I was worried my mother could hear it when she answered.
“Honey! I’ve been trying to get you for days!” she said, voice sing-song with just a hint of worry.
She didn’t know.
If she knew, she would have that choked voice that she always did when she was worried about something.
“Sorry, mom. I keep losing track of my phone,” I told her. It wasn’t a lie. And my mom had never really been the type to pry for small life details. We’d always been close, but I was pretty sure my mom would never be the kind of mom who wanted to know that you didn’t answer your phone because you were having world-shattering sex with a guy you knew wasn’t going to want to commit to you.
“Oh, that’s okay. I was just worried, is all. We need to start discussing Bayleigh’s baby shower,” she said.
It somehow felt wrong to focus on something so normal when so much was going on that was decidedly abnormal. But it was comforting too, especially as I listened to my mom prattling on about shades of pink that weren’t ‘overdone’ and ‘tacky,’ but would still be very feminine and sweet.
And were party games cheesy? Or a good way to waste some time?
Would we open gifts at the shower, or save it for later? The internet was, apparently, divided on that.
Bayleigh had requested something upscale, not super baby-themed. Which, yeah, my mom and I were completely on board for.
She’d also demanded food.
“Real food.”
Meaning, not finger foods.
It was her baby shower, and she wanted to stuff her face.
According to my mom, her pregnancy cravings had gotten out of control lately.
I felt like the worst sister in the world not calling to ask how she was. Even if it had only been a few days.
The thing was, talking to them would mean lying to them. Because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them about the arrest, the charges, about my time in county jail, about having to hire a criminal defense attorney. About the potential for me going away to prison.
Neither of them needed that stress right now. Least of all Bayleigh. Who deserved to be having the best, most peaceful time of her life right now. She’d earned that.
I would also be lying to Bayleigh about the whole Detroit thing. We had never had a conversation where she hadn’t asked me about my love life, asking why I hadn’t been seeing anyone.
I couldn’t tell her about Detroit because to tell her about him would entail telling her how we came to start hooking up.
Besides, if there was one person in the whole world I would never be able to lie well enough to, it was Bayleigh. She knew me too well, would be able to hear things beneath the surface that I wasn’t ready to talk about yet.
Like how I was falling for him.
And how I was terrified that he was going to realize how painfully… average I was. Then be quick to shrug me off and move on with his life.
While I spiraled.
“Honey, is everything okay?” my mom asked, and I realized I’d been mostly yessing her to death the past few minutes while my mind raced.
“Yeah. I’m just a little stressed out lately,” I admitted.
“You could come visit,” she suggested. “We could go get massages and mani-pedis. Really relax. It would be good for us both.”
It would.
But I couldn’t face them.
Not yet.
“When my schedule lets up, definitely,” I told her. I meant that. Whether that was a week from now when the charges were dropped, or a decade from now when I got out of prison.
“Okay. Call me, okay? If you just need someone to vent to. I hate that you’re there all alone now.”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her, putting a little extra pep in my voice that I didn’t really feel as I walked further away from the clubhouse, heading closer to the mountains. “But thank you. I’ll call you soon, okay?”
“Okay. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too,” I said, and oddly felt tears spring to my eyes as I hung up.
I exhaled hard and kept walking, needing the fresh air and exercise to clear my mind.
Lost in my head, I didn’t realize just how far I’d gone until I saw that I was closer to the prison than I was to the clubhouse.
I must have zoned out.
I glanced back toward the clubhouse, wondering if Detroit was back yet.
“Knew you’d come out of there eventually,” a voice said before there was a sharp pain to the back of my head… and nothing else.