Page 67 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

“Istill think you should tell them,” Breonna says.

She’s driving us into town on a fine winter morning. I’m in the passenger seat, fighting off a bout of nausea, as Breonna demonstrates surprising skills in maneuvering her Jeep down the snowy mountain in order to reach the main road.

“Well, I did tell them we’re going into town,” I reply.

“And after what happened with that Max guy, were they simply okay with you going off on your own?”

Breonna has her eyes on the road, but her tone speaks volumes, making me feel like a kid who lied to get out of school. “I’m with you. And I’ve got my phone with me,” I say. “It’s important that I retain some sense of independence. Besides, we’re keeping a low profile.”

“And lying to them,” she says.

“I don’t want to tell them about the doctor just yet, not until I see him and find out what he has to say.”

“It’s the pregnancy you’ve yet to tell them about. That’s my issue, Anya.”

“I will tell them when the time is right,” I mutter.

“They deserve to know.”

“I’m aware of that,” I sigh. “I just don’t know where we stand, okay? I don’t know what the future holds, and the last thing I want is to distract them with this new information while they’re still trying to work out the past.”

Once we’re on the main road, it’s a smooth drive into town.

“Speaking of, do you remember anything else?” Breonna asks. “About your past, that is.” A few blocks ahead is her favorite coffee shop, and I feel the need to do something nice for her. Chance made sure I had spending money for this “nice little outing,” as he so tensely called it. He’s yet to change his mind about Breonna, but he’s humoring me. It’s good enough.

“Hey, pull over here,” I say, pointing to the coffee shop on our right. “Let’s get something to eat first.”

“Anya…” But she hits the brakes, then gives me a hard look.

I shake my head. “I don’t like lying to them either. So, we’re going to go in there, get some specialty coffee and a box of fancy croissants, and then we’re going to visit the doctor, so I can get a proper checkup. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

“You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“Everything I remember is like a bunch of pieces in a puzzle that don’t quite fit together,” I tell Breonna as she joins me by the coffee shop door. “Bits of a life I can hardly remember. It’s all fuzzy, but I do know one thing: There are people out there who want to hurt me. And, yes, I know I should stay up on the mountain until it’s safe but…”

“But what?” she asks, concern etched in her eyes.

“I’m tired of hiding. I think I’ve been doing it for longer than the months I’ve been here,” I tell her. “Living in fear. Putting my life on hold. It doesn’t feel right. I’d rather not have to look over my shoulder while I do the basics for myself and for my health.”

Breonna musters a smile. “You’re lucky the Hayes brothers are really busy today, otherwise, you know one of them would’ve come along.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

She doesn’t know why they’re busy, though. I don’t know that much either. Nico said it’s for my safety until they verify information they’ve gathered so far. Someone came over from New York with a fresh scoop. The brothers were talking for hours behind closed doors late last night.

Perhaps I should be more scared. But I am really tired of living in fear. It’s exhausting, and I need to make sure my baby is healthy before I gather the nerve to tell them about my condition. Thinking about it now, I’ve got a feeling I’m struggling between my past and my future, one potentially greatly affecting the other.

“You’re right about one thing, though,” Breonna says, glancing at the pastry display in the shop’s front window. “I could totally smash a pistachio croissant and a tall latte.”

“I’ll get mine decaf,” I grumble. “I’m supposed to cut down on my caffeine consumption.”

“But you can eat whatever you want, right?”

“I think so. We’ll see what the doctor tells me. I don’t think I have any allergies, otherwise, something would’ve popped up by now. At least among the basics, you know, like nuts, gluten, whatever…”

Breonna chuckles dryly. “Yeah, that would’ve been rich. Me coming over to apologize with pecan pie; you going into anaphylactic shock.”

We both laugh as we’re about to go into the coffee shop. The front door is made of reflective glass, and I catch a glimpse of myself. I look better. Brighter. Maybe this is the pregnant glow people talk about.

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