Page 2 of Calling from the Heart
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Hang up.”
“Jeb.”
“Jen please.”
“I have to go, hon. I’ll see you in a bit.” She hung up with Andi.
“If he’s not the cheating kind then why couldn’t he answer me when I flat out asked why he was hanging out with all these alphas?”
“Maybe because he was pregnant with your baby?”
He glared at her. “Then why didn’t he tell me that?”
“Because you accused him of cheating?” She stared right back, unblinking.
“I did not accuse him. I asked him what was going on. He hemmed and hawed. So I snapped at him. But that shouldn’t have kept him from telling me if this was what was going on!” He wasn’t that much of an asshole, dammit.
“Maybe he was scared you wouldn’t want him? Maybe he needed a friend? I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.”
“Well, shit, obviously neither have I.” He sat abruptly. “Jesus, he’s having my baby.”
“You’re a baby daddy. Dude.” She leaned in. “Friendsgiving is in an hour, man. You know Andrea. Everyone we see is going to know.”
“I know.” He popped back to his feet. “I have to find Owen.” See him. Action man. He headed toward the front door to grab his coat.
“I—Good luck? What do I tell people? At supper, I mean.”
“That we’ll be there in a bit.” He was not going to waste all that food he’d paid in for. And dammit, Owen was coming with him.
He threw on his coat and stomped out the door. He would try Owen at home first, because obviously the son of a bitch had been at the store buying dinner, since he wasn’t planning on coming to Friendsgiving.
How hadn’t he heard about Owen being pregnant? Surely someone at Owen’s school noticed if Andrea did, right? The man was a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake.
Maybe it was because he was a little newer in town than some folks, Owen included. Maybe no one wanted to rat Owen out. Who knew? But this was ridiculous. Them breaking up had been ridiculous. And now they needed to talk in the most urgent kind of way.
Owen lived across the river, but there was no way he was going to just run across the footbridge on this sleety, blowy, blustery November day. Hell, no.
He hopped in his pickup, emblazoned with its Bad Badger Brewery logo, and headed through town to cross over the bridge to the newer section of houses, which was where all the schools were. Owen rented a little condo near the med center.
Which took him about five minutes to reach, and he pulled up behind Owen’s tiny hybrid car and neatly boxed it in. He didn’t want Owen to just be able to run.
They needed to talk.
Now.
Owen was not disappearing like this. No way. They were having a baby, dammit.
He strode up the icy walk, noting he needed to shovel it and chop ice. Then he knocked on the door.
It took a second before he heard. “Just a second!” Then the door creaked open, those pretty eyes peeking out. “Oh.”
“Let me in, Owen. We need to talk, and it’s cold as a witch’s tit out here.” He should have started with Happy Thanksgiving, maybe. But dammit, he was… angry. Baffled. Hurt.
“I—” The pressure behind the door eased and Owen moved to stand behind the big old recliner that squatted in the middle of the room like a green lump.
Jeb stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Were you going to tell me?”
“You don’t want babies. You don’t want to be tied down. You don’t trust me. I won’t be the person who tied you down. I can raise her all by myself.”
