Page 16 of Toxic Salvation
“What matters is that you can lock yourself away from everyone who cares about you and handle everything alone.” Tears threaten to spill over, and I know I need to get out of here before they do. “You were right about one thing, though: Coming here was a mistake. I won’t make it again.” I push past him, my shoulder knocking into his arm as I rush toward the exit. “Tell Luka I said goodbye,” I call over my shoulder without stopping. “Tell him I’m sorry.”
I’m fumbling with my car keys in the parking lot when a massive hand slams against my driver’s side door.
“What the hell?—”
“Is it mine?” Kovan sounds unhinged. Raw, desperate. Wild.
Laughter bubbles up from somewhere deep in my chest. “Does it matter?”
“Just answer the damn question.”
“Screw you.”
“Pretty sure screwing me is what landed us here in the first place. Answer me. Is. It. Mine?”
I consider slamming the door on his fingers. Instead, I do something far crueler. I step back out of the car, making sure I have a clear view of his face before I destroy him.
“No. It’s not yours,” I lie. “Right after you dumped me, I went to some dive bar and hooked up with a stranger in the bathroom.”
Every muscle in his body goes rigid, and I can practically see the violence he’s holding back. “Is that so?”
“That’s exactly so.” I force myself to keep talking, even though his expression is making my bones rattle. “And he was incredible. So much better than you ever were. Wanna know how many times I came, Kovan?”
I may have pushed too far, because we both know I’m lying through my teeth. No one could be better than Kovan. No one could make me feel what he made me feel.
“Now, you’re lying to my face.”
“Just leave me alone.”
“Show me that ultrasound again.”
“Absolutely not.”
Before I can react, he reaches into my front pocket and snatches the folded paper. That tiny brush of his fingers in my clothes is enough to make my brain go haywire. It thinks all the right things are happening, but it’s incorrect.
Everything that’s happening now is so, so wrong.
“Give that back!” I jump for it, but he holds it high above his head like we’re children on a playground.
He doesn’t even have to stretch. Just holds his arm up straight and that’s enough to keep it away from me.
“You bastard!” I pound my fists against his chest, but it’s like hitting a brick wall. He doesn’t even flinch. He’s too busy studying the image.
“Three months,” he reads. “You’re three months along.”
My hands fall to my sides. I back away slowly, suddenly realizing how trapped I am. I should have driven away the second I had the chance.
I can see him doing the math in his head, counting backward. “We were together then.”
I back up until I hit my car door, nowhere left to run.
“The baby’s mine.” It’s not a question anymore. His eyebrows draw together, and I can’t tell if he’s angry or shocked or what.
Not that it should matter to me either way.
“Yeah,” I whisper, suddenly too tired even to fight. “He’s yours.”
“‘He’? It’s a boy?”
