Page 9 of Wreckage of Us
“You sure as fuck do,” I bend my knees to get more to her eye level. “A whole fuckload of them. I can’t believe you were fucking that asshole behind my back this entire time…”
“Did you come to Montana to be with me?” Her question stops me short. “Did you?” she asks again when I don’t answer.
“It was never like that between us, Becca,” I tell her, even though, I now realize it wasexactlylike that. It still fuckin’ is in spite of now knowing she’s having a baby with someone else.
She’s having someone else’s baby.
Fuck.
How did I get it all so wrong?
“If it was never like that,” she pats the baby on the back while eyeing me with ice glazing over her eyes. He has finally stopped crying, just whimpers a bit with his eyes closed while resting his small head on Becca’s shoulder. “Then why are you angry?”
“You fuckin’ cheated on me,” I yell again.
“We were never together.” Her low and sad voice reaches my ears, and I finally hear myself and all the vile things I’m spitting at her.
“Becca…”
“No,” she shakes her head at me. “No more.”
I have never lost my head like this over a woman, not even when I was a lot younger. Women have always been disposable to me, most likely a product of my upbringing in the club.
“Whatever you think I did,” a small sob rips from her chest, making my heart feel like it’s been squeezed in a vise, “you can continue thinking it. I don’t care anymore. I can’t care about it anymore. I just… can’t.”
Tears are running down her face. I just want to hold her and squeeze her until we both stop breathing.
“Fuck,” I put my head back and yell at the ceiling. The baby in Becca’s arms startles, then starts crying again.
“Hey,” a woman’s angry voice calls from the sliding door that leads to Becca’s backyard. “Don’t use that kind of language in front of my baby!”
I look her up and down in disgust. She’s hot, but I don’t give a shit. Maybe I need to get my head examined.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Who the fuckIam?” she points to her chest. “Who the fuck areyou?” she points at me. “I saw you leaving here before, all loud on your bike without a care in the world for the noise pollution you create…”
“Jess,” Becca tries to interrupt.
“It’sJessica,” she puts her fingers together and just about gets into Becca’s face when she corrects her.
“Hey,” I raise my voice, “don’t talk to her like that!”
“Oh my god,” Becca talks over both of us. “Stop! Everybody just… stop!” Now the baby is crying louder than before.
“I’m sorry,” this new chick tells Becca. “Did he cry like this the whole time?”
“On and off,” Becca looks at her apologetically. “I’m really sorry about this. I didn’t know he…”
“You’re fine,” Hot Chick assures her. “We’ll get off your hair. Come see me after he’s gone,” she moves her head to point at me, then gives me a look of disdain and suspicion. “I’ll be watching the house until then.”
“Thank you, Jessica.” If the situation wasn’t this fucked up, I’d smile at the way Becca made sure to call this woman by her full name.
Few minutes later, and the house is finally blissfully quiet. I walk around the room and stare at the pictures she has lining up the fireplace. Most of them are of her with her brother, and a couple of who I’m assuming were their parents.
“You need to go,” Becca tells me when she comes back after walking her guests to the back door.
“Yeah, I do,” I agree. “Glad to have dodged a bullet with you, huh?” I smirk and wink at her like the fuckin’ asshole people know me to be.
