Page 55 of Bagging the Blueliner
Chrissy was married to Wade and lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. They had two boys—Ian and Elliot. Wade was into tech, something to do with programming, but I couldn’t listen to him talk about his work for too long without zoning out. There was no nice way to say this—he was a nerd.
They were happy, so I kept my mouth shut. Different strokes for different folks, right?
If only they could accept that I didn’t want their lives.
Knowing they were only in town for a few days, I tried to play nice. “I don’t want to settle. So what if it takes me longer to find the right guy? I’d rather do it right the first time.”
Allison shook her head. “Take it from me. The sooner you get kids out of the way, the better. Pregnancy was a breeze in my twenties, but in my late thirties, it was hell. I almost didn’t survive the last one.”
Opening my mouth to respond, I didn’t get the chance before Chrissy backed her up. “She’s right. I regret wasting time at thefront part of our marriage. Should have knocked the boys out early and been done with it.”
Lord, give me strength.
I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t even know if I want kids.”
Unblinkingly, they stared at me for a full minute.
Finally, Allison waved her hand through the air. “Oh, Hannah. Everyone thinks that at one point or another. Then you find the right guy, and you change your mind. You’ll see.”
I wanted to scream. Nothing I said made a difference. They had their beliefs and couldn’t comprehend that I didn’t want the same things for my life.
Part of me wanted to blow it all up. To stand up and announce that Cal and I were fuck buddies—at least, I thought that’s what we were. I wanted to watch as their heads exploded.
But I couldn’t do that. God knows what my dad would do. He was a pain-in-the-ass grouch for months when Jaxon knocked up Natalie, and she wasn’t really his daughter. Even then, it was easier for him to wrap his head around it because it was so obvious that Jaxon had been in love with her for years. Cal and I were just fooling around. We were playing right into all the reasons why Dad enacted the ban in the first place.
Needing the conversation to end, I muttered, “Maybe.”
Thankfully, they let it drop, but I was more determined than ever to live my life on my own terms. No one else was entitled to a say in what made me happy.
Are you home? I need . . . Honestly, I don’t know what I need.
Big Dick Asshole:Yeah, come on up.
Seeing the nickname I reprogramed in my phone for Cal’s contact made me feel better. I’d barely made it through Christmas dinner without losing my shit. As soon as I could, I beat it out of there.
Normally, I’d call an emergency girls’ night and vent over drinks with my best friends, but it was Christmas. Everything was closed, and it felt wrong to interrupt their holiday. Contacting Cal was a last-ditch effort. I wasn’t in the mood to rile him up. I just needed someone to talk to. That’s how badly my sisters had fucked up my head.
Changing into leggings and an oversized sweater in my apartment, I took the elevator to the top floor. Cal was waiting for me, leaning against his open door wearing a black T-shirt and gray sweatpants, a cocky smirk on his lips.
His face fell when he saw me, and he strode forward, stopping when he was close enough to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Hey, are you okay?”
The emotions swirling within me threatened to pull me under, and I shook my head. “No.”
Cal did the very last thing I would have ever expected and pulled me into his arms. Holding me close, he stroked my hair, not saying a word. I melted into his embrace, letting his strength surround me, making me feel safe. It was such a contradiction to the fire-and-ice relationship we’d shared to this point.
I kinda liked it.
Pulling back slightly, I peered up at him. The concern shining in his blue eyes did something to my insides. Until now, I’d only ever seen annoyance or lust in them. This was deeper. Hewanted to make sure I was okay. And I had a feeling deep down that he could help me get there.
“Can I come inside?” I asked timidly.
Stepping back so suddenly that I mourned the loss of his touch, Cal ran a hand through his blond hair. “Of course.”
Placing a hand on my lower back, he guided me into the apartment. Slipping off my shoes, I headed for the oversized leather couch in front of the TV. Cal veered off into the kitchen, asking, “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I probably shouldn’t. My head’s fucked up enough.”
Nodding, he poured two glasses of water, brought them to where I sat, and placed them on the coffee table. Sitting on the couch beside me, he turned so we were facing each other. “You wanna talk about it?”
