Page 98 of Clear Shot
One way or another, he’s going to find out the baby is his and even though it won’t change anything, it will be good to feel vindicated.
I just hate that so many lives will be impacted.
A wave of nausea hits me and I surge to my feet, racing toward the powder room. The morning sickness has been better the last two days so this is unexpected.
I heave into the toilet and a moment later I feel movement behind me and a cool cloth against my neck.
“You’re going to be okay.” My brother’s voice is gentle, loving. He’s always been the best brother, and I truly hate that I inadvertently dragged him into this drama.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“For what?” He shakes his head.
“If I’d just gone back to Slovakia after I lost my job, none of this would have happened.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty.”
“I’m not ready to be a mom,” I say after a moment. “This wasn’t part of any of the plans.”
“Sloane and I didn’t think we were either.”
“You’ve always been ready,” I say with a sad smile.
“And you’re going to be a fantastic mom. Just wait.”
“I’m so scared.” I slowly get to my feet and lean over the sink.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way, even if it’s long distance. Whatever you need.”
“I have money. I’ll be okay until the baby comes and I can find a job.”
“And Sloane and I will come to Slovakia in the summer to be there for you. No matter what Aiden decides, you won’t be alone. I will be the male influence in his or her life. And if you still want to come to America, I’ll find a way to make it happen.”
“I love you,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes.
“I love you too. And you’re going to be fine. I promise.”
Chapter 34
Aiden
It’s beenyears since I had a bout of depression this bad, but I’m drowning. Coach gave me mandatory leave due to a “family emergency,” and I haven’t gotten out of bed other than to piss and bring in my order from the liquor store in three days. I can’t remember the last time I ate anything other than a stale bag of Cheetos, and the bottles of whiskey I’ve burned through are almost gone.
My stomach is sour, but I don’t give a shit, and I gulp down what’s left in the last bottle. There should be another order arriving shortly, and I drag myself down the stairs to check. But instead of a liquor store order, there’s a man standing there holding a big envelope.
He waves when he sees me.
Great. The evangelicals are here with pamphlets.
Well, fuck that.
“Mr. Barbeau! I have communication from your attorney!” The guy yells through the door.
Fuck.
Now what?
I pad over to the door, oblivious to the fact that I’m not wearing anything but my boxers.
