Page 8 of Broken

“I think that’s been mentioned,” he says with a chuckle, popping a french fry in his mouth.

“I bet,” I grumble. “Anyway, do you have Shelby’s address?”

His body jerks, as his eyebrows shoot up so much I wonder if they’re going to invade his hairline. “What the fuck for?” he almost snarls.

“So that I can forward my Bitch of The Century sash and tiara to her. I’m comforted knowing she’ll take over my previous reign. It will be my final goodbye to the dark side. Once that’s done, I can rest as I try to defect into anonymity.”

He stares at me a moment and then throws his head back, letting laughter roar out of him. “That shit is funny right there,” he says, once he has a little control. He still does it laughing while shaking his head at me.

“Anyway, you don’t need to worry about me or the baby. Me and jellybean are fine. We’re going to forge our own way in this world and build a good life,” I assure him, praying that I’m right.

He tilts his head, looking at me. “So, you hooked yourself up with a deadbeat. I wanthisname. I don’t have a crown for him, but I think I need to make him see the error of his ways. You’re what? Three months along? Asshole can start towing the line and if he doesn’t, I’ll stick around to make sure he does.”

“King—”

“Saying that, I mean, only paying support and your medical bills. You don’t need a man like that in your life. You’ll be connected through the kid, but if you’re going to hitch your wagon to a man, you need to make sure that man is the type that will take care of you?—”

“King, I?—”

“Not leave your ass swinging in the wind, knocked up and working extra shifts as a waitress to try to pay the bills.”

“King!”

“Now that we have that sorted, what’s the bullshit about you moving to Denver?”

“It’s not bullshit. I’ve always wanted to visit the Rocky Mountains. I need a place to start over. I don’t want to be around people who rememberthe meI used to be. I don’t want my son or daughter to live in an area where they will hear shit about me. I won’t hide who I used to be from my child when it is time for them to know, but I don’t want my past constantly thrown up to them or me. Besides, it’s for the best that I leave.”

“And this numbnut that knocked you up? Does he have a problem with you moving halfway across the damn country?”

I have a choice here. I can let King continue to think there’s some unknown party out there—which is what I intend to do with my parents—or tell him the truth. The easiest choice is option number one. King, however, deserves better than that.

“I’m nearly seven months pregnant, King,” I respond quietly.

“What?” he barks, staring at me. It feels like his eyes are penetrating me, slipping into the deepest recesses of my mind and finding out everything about me—every tiny thing.

“There will be no baby daddy. I’m pretty sure he’s rotting in hell and to prove I am still a bitch, that thought brings me comfort. Me and Jellybean are having just a party of two,” I tell him, rubbing my stomach. “Colorado sounds nice.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Gabby.”

I wince at first. This is one reason I didn’t want to talk about my pregnancy. It’s also why I’m going to let my parents come to their own conclusion. I just haven’t figured out how to tell them yet. I’m finding more and more that when it comes to dealing with my father, I’m a chicken. In my defense, there’s only so much hate, disappointment, and bitterness you can take when it’s aimed at you by a man you love and thought would always be in your corner. Sure, I know I fucked up, but I’m his daughter. I expected him to be mad, to give me hell. I even knew he’d be grieving. I just didn’t expect him to come at me with indifference, blame, and disgust.Okay, well maybe I halfway expected the disgust.

“Don’t, King,” I whisper, my voice trembling. I put my hands in my lap to hide the fact that they’re trembling. It’s all I can do not to cry, but I will not allow myself to do that. I’ve cried enough. I have to be strong. My child needs that from me. “I don’t want you to feel pity for me. I don’t want that from anyone, but especially you.”

“Sweetheart—”

I stop him with just the shake of my head. “I’m okay,” I tell him. If I say it enough, one day I will believe it. At least that’s my plan. “You don’t need to feel sorry for me. I don’t want that from anyone, but especially you.”

He studies me for a minute. I try to ignore him by pushing my coleslaw around in its bowl—studiously ignoring him watching me. “Why did you decide to keep the baby? Most in your place wouldn’t have.”

I shrug. “I took the morning-after pill the club doctor gave me after we were rescued. There are a few reasons they don’t always take. It didn’t for me. So, when the doctor told me I was pregnant, I knew I had a decision to make. I could have an abortion or have the baby. I chose the baby.”

“Why?”

“That’s harder to explain. I am mostly alone in this world. This baby doesn’t have anyone either. He or she didn’t ask to be here and wasn’t the one who hurt me. This baby—my baby—needs me and honestly, I need the baby. I’m going to be a mother and I’m going to do everything in my power to be a good one.”

“You can’t be a good mom if you run yourself ragged just trying to create a home for the kid.”

“I’m just working hard until I can put enough money back so I can move to Denver.”

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