Page 23 of Redemption

“Nah.” I take my phone out of my pocket and send a text. “I’m texting Colby. I’m just going to wait for him out front.”

Clay nods. “You doin’ okay with all this, Beckett?”

I appreciate his concern, but the last thing I want to do is have a heart-to-heart about this shit right now. I need to figure out what the hell’s going on inside my head first.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” I shrug, honestly not sure how else to answer that. “I’ll see you later, man.”

He lifts his chin. “Later.”

A few minutes after I step out into the starry night, Colby Mitchell, also known as Sheriff Mitchell, also known as my best friend since high school, is pulling up in front of Dive Bar, Hope’s one and only drinking establishment.

He rolls the window down on his Explorer. “You know the sheriff’s office is not your personal Uber service, right?”

I belt out a laugh. “If we had a damn Uber service in this town, I wouldn’t need you. It does come in handy the station is right down the road, though.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hop in, asswipe.”

He waits until I’m buckled up before pulling out of the lot. “What’s going on, man? It’s not like you to throw ‘em back when you have to work the next day.”

I groan, looking out the window. “Presley’s back in town.”

He whistles. “Shit. That’s rough, buddy.”

“Tell me about it. Even better, I think something’s wrong, Colby. Clayton and Mrs. J. are being extremely vague, but I have a feeling whatever brought Pres back after all these years isn’t good.”

“And you’re concerned about that? After what she did to you?”

“I sure as hell don’t want to be. My life’s fucking complicated enough. Nic’s pissed I didn’t tell her the second I found out.”

Colby laughs. “I bet. But to be fair, it doesn’t take much to piss that woman off.”

I laugh with him. “True.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I don’t fucking know.”

Chapter Fifteen

Presley

– Age 18

“Please be negative,” I beg. “Please be negative.”

This shouldn’t be happening. I’m on the pill, yet my period is eight days late. When Mama figured out that Beck and I were having sex, she drove me to the doctor’s office the very next day to get me on birth control. She said, “There’s no way you’re making me a grandma right now. It’s bad enough I have to worry about your brother and his philandering ways.” I don’t know how she knew, but I’m a terrible liar, so I didn’t even try denying it. She told me we were too young, and she didn’t like it, but she also remembered what it was like to be young and in love. If I had to be sexually active, at least it was with a boy she loved as much as her own children. I was sixteen at the time and haven’t missed a single pill since then.

I stare at the little white stick from across the bathroom. I drove two towns over immediately after school to buy a pregnancy test. I wasn’t going to risk bringing it home, so here I am, standing in the restroom at the drugstore, waiting for my results.

I take a deep breath when the timer goes off on my phone. As I approach the counter, I say one more little prayer that my whole future isn’t about to blow up in smoke. I pick up the test and immediately hone in on the pink plus sign staring back at me.

“No-no-no-no-no! This can’t be happening!”

I drop the stick when there’s a knock on the door. “Miss, are you okay in there?”

Crap, I must’ve said that too loud.

“Uh… yep. I’ll be right out.”

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