Page 34 of The Backdraft
“So, why are you so scared to tell your family you’re pregnant?” His question caught me off-guard. I hadn’t expected him to ask me anything, but especially not a question that dove right into “deep end” territory.
I scowled. “I’m not scared to tell them.”
“Fine, let me rephrase it. What about telling your family made you want to bring me with you?”
Sighing, I glanced over at him. There was no way I was getting into it all with him right now, but I probably should give himsomething. “My family is amazing, but I’m . . . I’m just different from them. And that’s fine, but it sometimes feels wrong too. Like I was a dog trying to be a cat.”
“Flip that analogy. You’re definitely more of a cat than a dog,” he responded nonchalantly.
I rolled my eyes. “Sure, whatever. You get the idea.”
We fell into silence for a couple of minutes, then he spoke again.
“We should probably talk about them—your family.” His voice lacked enthusiasm, which I’m sure was reflective of how he felt about the topic. Still, I was surprised he wanted to know anything at all, considering I knew this was the part of my stipulations that almost had him running from the breakfast table. “You know, so this is believable.”
Ah, right. This was about the plan, not any genuine curiosity on his part.
“Well, Linnea is a nurse back in town. She’s who I usually drive home with, but she works tonight, and isn’t leaving until tomorrow morning. She knows this is fake, though, so you don’t need to worry about her.” I glanced over to gauge his reaction to that, seeing as how I hadn’t told him that she was the oneto convince me to play along with this plan of his, but he was staring out the windshield. “Garrett—“
He cut me off with a low grumble. “Yeah, I know Garrett.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Is that going to be a problem?” I knew Archer believed that whatever high school contempt Garrett held for him back then was still at large today, but I hadn’t thought it was this big of a deal to him. If he couldn’t be in a room with Garrett, this whole thing was going to go to shit.
“No, it’s not a problem.”
“Good. Anyway, he got married to Cory last month, and he’s a cop in Boston, but you already knew that last part.” I didn’t wait for any comments from him before pressing on. “My parents are Jack and Shelby, and as long as you’re nice to me, they’ll love you. But maybe be a little less scowly, and pretend like you don’t hate me, and we’ll be good.”
“I don’t hate you.”
I almost swerved into the lane next to me with how hard my head snapped in his direction, disbelief coloring my features. “Really? Could’ve had me fooled.”
Finally, he looked at me, but I returned my gaze to the road. “Why do you think I hate you?”
“Maybe hate isn’t the right word, but it’s clear you don’t like me.”
“Why do you think I don’t like you?”
Was he for real right now?
“You’re joking?” I glanced at him again, eyebrows almost in my hairline from shock. “How about because when I told you I was pregnant, you flipped out and denied any potential accountability? And, I mean, I get it, okay? A random hookup told you she’s pregnant with a baby you never wanted, but it’s not like I was overjoyed by the news at first either. I was, and still am, scared shitless by the whole thing, but if the roleswere reversed I wouldn’t have left a scared and overly emotional woman behind without talking it out.”
When he just sat there quietly, I continued. “Or there’s the fact that the few times we’ve been around each other, aside from the first time, you’ve been miserable and grumpy. You haven’t exactly given me anything to prove otherwise.”
“That’s who I am.” His voice was an unapologetic rumble.
That’s all he had to say to that? “Wow, glad I’m not the only one on the receiving end of your attitude.”
“Likewise, brat.” He smirked, or at least I thought he did, but by the time I glanced back at him, his face was devoid of any expression it previously held.
Ignoring the “brat” comment, because I couldn’t throttle him and drive us at the same time, I chewed on the inside of my cheek, and stayed quiet.
He sighed, and it sounded loud coming from him. “Look, I don’t hate you. It’s going to sound cliché as hell, but it’s a me thing, and it’s complicated, but I don’t hate you. And I don’t not like you.”
His confession reduced my anger, leaving cautiousness in its place. Believing him would be all too easy, but actions spoke louder than words, and so far he walked out on me at a bar when I was confiding in him, and he’d given me the cold shoulder this whole trip. But he did also buy me snacks and lunch. Plus, I guess springing the whole “I’m pregnant” thing on him and giving him two minutes to process the information and react better wasn’t entirely fair. Maybe it was time to extend the olive branch back to him. “I guess I don’t hate you either.”
Whatever had been in his eyes before my confession turned stony, a barrier dropping back down between us. “Just don’t fall for me.”
My mouth popped open, momentarily stunned speechless by the whiplash the tone of his words caused. “Okay? I wasn’t exactly planning on it, but—“
