Page 133 of Fury

My heart thudded in my chest.

“Is Beck mine?”

My skin heated, my stomach cramped. “Finger—”

“Is he mine?”

“No. I was already pregnant when I saw you in LA.”

On a hiss of air, he averted his gaze with a sharp movement, his head swinging away from me, his shoulders rigid. Had he been clinging to a sliver of hope about the baby? The what-might-have-been flared between us like the slicing blast of a police siren.

He leaned into me, eyes blazing. “You were pregnant with another man’s kid and you let me touch you? Why?” I didn’t see disgust in his face nor hear hatred in his voice, only that harsh demand for the truth and an eerie curiosity.

“Excuse me, sorry—could we get through?” A mom holding two twin girls by the hands bumped into me, pushing me closer to Finger. My face brushed his chest. The scent of leather and tobacco, cinnamon gum, and him.

Another life, another world.

Worlds collide.

“Answer me.”

“I’m selfish,” I replied.

His iron eyes widened, his chin lifted. A sound rumbled in the back of this throat as his lips tipped up. He liked that answer. “So am I.” The lick of pleasure in his tone was almost sinister.

He leaned down, studying Beck who kicked at his blanket under Finger’s stare. “Goodbye, Beck. Hope Santa brings you everything you want.”

He turned and stalked off into the crowd. Away. No final glance at me. No meaningful look. No cold squint.

My eyes flooded with water. I put a mittened hand to my mouth to keep the wail that rose up my throat locked inside. The crowd swirled around me, children laughed, shouted, mothers talked loudly, the choir continued with fucking Jingle Bells.

I wiped at my eyes and maneuvered the stroller away from the Santa display and back up on the sidewalk. My insides twisted as I scanned the crowd, greedily looking for him, a last taste of the brownie batter on the spatula before tossing it in the sink. One last look. Anything. Something. That tall body, that rigid line of neck and broad shoulders, those fierce dark eyes, those scars, that long and steady gait.

But there was no trace of him.

My head spun, my heart thudded off beat. I was off beat, defeated, small.

Beck fussed, letting out a whiny cry. “Okay, honey. Okay. We’re going.”

Through blurry vision, I guided the stroller back to my car.

After we first met, Eric and I had started sleeping together right away. We’d been careless once, and I hadn’t cared. We were careless a second time, and he’d freaked out. Not me, though. In fact, I’d dared destiny, flipping it the bird to prove my track record of being on the receiving end of lousy trick or treat candy wrong.

And destiny had given me a gift.

I was glad and relieved, because I knew a baby with another man would separate me from Finger and my past forever, a cement barrier on that perilous road that was us. It would force both of us to move forward and move apart. When I’d told Eric I was pregnant, he’d freaked out, lapsing into speechlessness. I told him it was cool, that I wanted to keep the baby on my own. Then he’d taken me in his arms and said, “Marry me.”

And I did.

When Finger had surprised me in LA, when he’d touched me, I couldn’t stop it, I hadn’t wanted to. Hell, I’d wanted him badly the moment I’d heard his voice, saw his reflection in the mirror. Then he’d kissed me. Breathed me in. And something volatile erupted inside me. Would that ever change?

And then I’d seen Finger at that concert and knew what was going on in his head. “Is that my baby?” Pulling the signal on him had upset me, the look on his face shattering. But he had to know. There was no going back, no second chances.

I sniffed in the icy air, gripping the stroller handles tighter. The glitter of the lights, the joy in people’s singing in the distance and the red and green decorations had all lost their sparkle and promise. Everything was flat, dull. Artificial.

I unlocked my car, got Beck in his car seat and buckled him in. He tugged on a lock of my hair, his pudgy legs kicking up at me under the blanket I tucked around him. “Going home now, Beck. Okay?”

“Gook.” He mashed his lips together, watching me intently.

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