Page 45 of Wreckage of Us
“I know,” I yell again. “I love his stupid ass, and this is the worst thing ever!”
“Becca!” Morgan has finally had it with me. She marches to me and grabs me by the shoulders. “That’s enough.”
“What?”
“You are a complete mess. You got all these hormones running crazy through your head.”
“I do?” I feel all confused, and almost like I need to lie down. Take a nap. Regroup.
“You do, honey,” Morgan assures me. “And maybe you need to go home for the day, yes?”
“I can’t.” And now I’m crying again.
“Why?” Morgan is suddenly on high alert. “Does he hurt you?”
“Only in my heart,” I wail.
“Jesus Christ,” she has the nerve to roll her eyes at the ceiling. “I don’t think you can drive yourself home,” she decides.
“I really can’t,” I grab her arm and hold on tight. “Dylan drove me to work,” I cry, “and he’s supposed to come pick me up at the end of my shift. He does that every day now.”
“Well,” Morgan sighs and blows a puff of air that moves the hair strands falling over her forehead. “Let’s call him to come get you, okay?”
“Okay,” I continue crying, then pull my cell phone out of the pocket of my bottoms when Morgan looks at me funny.
I take a moment to focus my eyes, then look up Dylan’s number and hitDial. He doesn’t disappoint and answers after the second ring.
“Miss me already, babe?” he rumbles into the phone, and I’d find it so hot if I wasn’t such a mess.
“D… D… Dylan,” I finally stutter.
“Fuck, are you okay? I’m coming back,” he growls, the anger and worry evident in the tone of his voice.
“I’m okay,” I manage to mumble. “But I need you…”
“I’m seriously five minutes away,” he assures me. “Will you be okay until I get there?”
My eyes go to Morgan’s. She’s close enough where she can hear the entire conversation, including Dylan’s side. We hang up after I promise him that I truly am okay.
“I hate to tell you, Becca,” Morgan smiles at me with almost sadness, “but he sounds like he really cares.”
“God, Morgan,” I whimper and cover my face with my hands. “I can’t believe I unloaded it all on you like this.”
We walk out of the examination room just in time to see Dylan sliding in a run right in front of the nurses’ station.
“Dylan,” I gasp. “How did you get here so fast?”
“Are you okay?” His eyes look wild and his hair is all over the place.
“I’m fine,” I assure him even though he can tell I’ve been crying.
“The baby’s okay?” he asks, completely melting me on the spot.
“The baby’s fine.” I almost jump into his arms and kiss him.
His eyes go up and down my body a few times until they finally settle on my face.
“What’s wrong then? Why are you crying?”
