Page 61 of Second Goal

A blastof cold wind hits my face when I push through the large wood door of the Arts building and make my way down the stone stairs. I put my earbuds in, even though I’m not playing music, and keep my eyes down, so I don’t have to make conversation with anyone as I head to the bus stop.

Nausea burns a path up my throat, and I take a small sip of my peppermint tea. But it doesn’t help. I’ve been sick to my stomach for the last two weeks. At first I thought I’d caught a bug until I looked at the calendar and realized my period was late.

“I can’t be pregnant.” I’d sat in the doctor’s office, gaping at the older woman. Even though I knew it was my fault. I’d forgotten to get the morning-after pill. And by the time I remembered, it’d been too late.

My fault.

She’d given me a sympathetic smile, then proceeded to tell me my options.

But I didn’t hear a word she said after that.

I’m pregnant.

God, if Blake didn’t trust me before, he never will now.

I’ve avoided him long enough, trying to think of a way to tell him, wondering if I had to. But I promised no more secrets.

My phone buzzes with a text from Blake asking where I am. I hesitate before starting to type my response. I’m already an hour late, but my feet are sluggish, knowing what I have to do tonight.

I know exactly how he’ll respond. Anger at first. Maybe fear. Then his knight in shining armor complex will kick in, and he’ll want to do theright thing. Whatever that is. But I know he’s going to think I did this on purpose.

All I wanted was to prove to him and myself that I didn’t need anyone, that I could be something without other people fixing my mistakes. But I’ve just made another huge one. The worst part about it is that there’s a piece of me that wants this baby. A part of me that’s already protective of it.

“Kiley. Wait,” a woman calls out behind me.

I keep walking, not wanting to talk to anyone right now, but I don’t get far before a hand is on my shoulder.

Frowning, I turn, shock registering when I see Amy. A dozen emotions swirl in my chest. Hurt. Betrayal. Relief. Love.

Even now, knowing that she’s been lying to me all this time, I still care about her. But I can’t trust her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask cautiously, glancing around, looking for any signs of Cruz. I don’t see him, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t lurking somewhere in the shadows.

Amy fidgets nervously. Eyes that are dark and bruised, stare at me from under the baseball cap she’s wearing. “I need your help.”

“I’ve tried to help you.”

“Please, Kiley. I just need...” She looks over her shoulder, then at her feet, anywhere but in my eyes. “I left him. I did it this time. I’m afraid he’s going to come after me. I just need some money to help me get out of the city. You should come with me. He’s angry, Kiley. Angrier than I’ve ever seen him—”

“I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

“He’s going to go to the police, Kiley. He’ll tell them—”

“Tell them what?” I narrow my eyes at her. “I didn’t kill Ezra.”

Her eyes widen and I see it, the truth. She knew all along. “How... I mean...”

“You let me think I was a murderer. Why? For money? How could you? I would have given you everything I had.”

She looks away, features distorted with guilt. “He made me. You know how he is.”

“That’s not an excuse. I loved you. Trusted you. God, you were a sister to me.”

“And you left me,” she yells, making a few heads turn in our direction. “You left Lucy.”

“I begged you to come with me, but you chose him.” Pain radiates through me like a million pinpricks of regret. “I’ll never forgive myself for not being there when Lucy got sick. Every day I think about her. And I wonder if things would have been different if you’d just come with me. But you chose Cruz.Youdidn’t protect her.”

She looks down at the ground. “I did protect her,” she whispers. When she looks up, there are tears running down her cheeks. “I’m not the monster you think I am.”

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