Page 42 of Wreckage of Us
“I did love you then too,” I insist.
“Well, you had a very funny way of showing it then, Dylan,” she chuckles, sadness lacing the tone of her voice. “I didn’t know that part of being in love is calling someone a whore.”
Her voice gets stronger with each word she throws back in my face. I am so proud of her even though she is slashing me to pieces.
“Nor did I know,” she continues, “that being in love means you accuse the person you’re supposedly in love with of getting pregnant on purpose. Trying to saddle you with a baby you don’t want. Even though,” the tears are running down freely now, and my chest hurts like never before. “Even though she told you that she was at risk of getting pregnant while you kept on having sex with her without a condom. Only to tell her afterward, over and over again, that you did not want any baby that may come out of it.”
“Becca,” my voice is shaking. I am getting as close to tearing up as I have ever been. I don’t remember crying since I was in middle school. But this girl unmans me with her love, not just for me, but for the baby in her belly. The way she fights for it… The way she fightsmefor it... it’s everything.
I try to swallow the huge lump in the back of my throat.
“I know you don’t believe it now, baby,” I squeeze her hand harder, bringing her head to mine with the other. I rest my forehead on hers and just breathe. “I will prove it to you,” I promise.
A few minutes go by without either one of us saying anything anymore.
“I really need to go inside,” she finally tells me, sounding a lot more calmer, albeit the scratchy from crying voice.
“Please be careful,” I beg. “I wish I could watch you in there all day long.”
That finally makes her laugh. “They’d probably call the police on you, Dylan.”
I let go of her hand, and she unsnaps the seatbelt that is still holding her prisoner in her seat.
“Can I get out now?” she lifts her eyebrow in challenge.
“Are you going to come back to me at the end of your shift?” I respond in kind.
She rolls her eyes and smirks. “I will.”
With the press of a button, the door unlocks, and she pushes it open. I blow her a kiss and she slams the door in my face, making me laugh. I watch as she walks all the way inside her building, running my eyes over all the cars and people nearby. I want to believe that my father is not stupid enough to harm Becca while she’s at work inside a hospital, but he is too unpredictable for me to guess.
I am just about to pull out of the parking lot when my cell phone buzzes in the pocket of my sweatshirt with an incoming text. I never hooked my phone to the Bluetooth system in the truck, so I have to fish it out.
Still on a high from the playful exchange I just had with Becca, I glance at the screen, expecting it to be nothing. What I see freezes the smile on my face and the heart in my chest.
Do you really think she’ll be safe just because you moved in?
I tap on the screen, trying to get to the message app so I can get the phone number the message was sent from. But it just saysUnknown.
As I stare at the screen, another message pops up.
Time is ticking…
Then another message.
Like a bomb…
I am usually cool, calm and collected. Nothing shakes me. I need to remember that. Becca will be fine. This fucker thinks he got me but…
Another message dings, cutting into my thoughts.
Tick tock…
And another.
Boom!
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