Page 43 of Knocked Up by Her Daddy's Friends

I’ve been feeling sick to my stomach with worry since Veronica threatened me yesterday. I’ve no idea how, but somehow, she knows that Bill’s my stepdad. She said that if I didn’t tell them, she would but I don’t believe that for one minute. If Gunner hadn’t thrown her out, she’d have probably told them yesterday, though even she has the sense to know that breaking that sort of news on the day a good friend dies wouldn’t win her any brownie points.

I had planned to speak to them this morning before they left. I didn’t get a chance last night since Gunner rushed off to bed. I could have told the others, but I couldn’t face it and drank far too much trying to build up Dutch courage. I feel even worse that I didn’t open up after everything that happened between me and Gunner last night. When I woke up alone in his bed, I realized that they’d left already. Since then I’ve been hoping I will get a chance to speak to them before Veronica beats me to it.

The second they walk through the door and I see Veronica with them, a satisfied smirk on her face, I know it’s too late.

“Tell me it isn’t true,” Gunner says, his face filled with pain, and I feel as though I’ll be torn in two for hurting him.

I can’t lie to them anymore. Even though it’s going to hurt us all.

“Is Bill Anderson your stepfather?” Angel asks his face impassive and cool, already he’s shutting me out, closing himself off so he can’t feel the pain I’ve caused him.

“Yes,” I reply, wishing to god that it wasn’t true.

Just like that. This fragile, precious thing that’s been growing between us all is smashed into a million pieces.

“Get out,” Angel hisses, his eyes narrowed as he points to the door.

The others look shell-shocked, hurt, and betrayed in equal measure apart from Veronica who looks victorious.

“Please, if you’d just let me explain…” I beg, moving closer to them and looking at each of them in turn.

None of them will meet my eyes except for Angel who glares me down. Never has his name suited him more than in this moment, his eyes ablaze with righteous fury like an avenging angel descended from heaven.

“I don’t want to hear another lie from you. Leave, before we kick you out. You’re lucky we’re letting you walk out at all,” Angel seethes.

I’ve seen him in scary angry mode against others, but never directed against me. Unbidden, huge tears escape my eyes and run down my cheeks as I sob.

“Please, I didn’t mean to hurt you, I wanted to tell you… I’m not working with Bill I swear, I can explain everything,” I beg.

“We trusted you,” Buzz says his voice filled with hurt.

Gunner stalks off, refusing to look at me as he storms out of the bar, heading upstairs.

“Leave. Now,” Drifter says stonily.

“Tammy, get her bag, take her keys out,” Angel orders and an apologetic-looking Tammy rushes to do as she’s told, handing me my bag so I at least have my phone and credit cards.

I take it but I stand there, frozen to the spot, unable to believe this is happening.

“Leave!” Angel roars, making me jump.

“No! I won’t not until you let me explain,” I demand, not willing to let them go. To letusgo.

“Get her out of my sight before I hurt her,” Angel snaps to a group of members standing watching the action.

The men do as instructed, grabbing me and manhandling me out of the door while I struggle against them, sobbing and begging. But my men ignore me, turning away, hurt and disgusted by my actions.

I can’t believe I’ve lost them.

Through my tears, I manage to book an Uber. I head straight to my friends’ place. There’s no way I’m going home. If I can help it, I never want to see Bill again.

A short while later, Trish answers the door to find me sobbing and bedraggled on their doorstep. “Oh my god, Skye, are you okay? Come in,” she says, her brow furrowed with concern and puzzlement.

I can’t speak I’m crying so hard, so I allow her to fuss around me, bringing me inside and sitting me down on their couch while she makes tea. “Meghan and Lucy have gone out, I have an early class tomorrow, so I wanted a night in,” she explains.

It vaguely occurs to me through the fog of hurt I’m feeling that I’m lucky they weren’t all out. “Thank you,” I say, wiping my eyes and taking the cup of sweet hot tea she offers me, “I’m sorry to just show up like this.”

Trish waves my thanks away, “Don’t be silly, you’re welcome here anytime, we wanted you to be our roomie after all, and clearly something’s upset you. Do you want to talk about it?”

---