Chapter 9

Hazel

“This is a Canon EOS 750D,” I said and clasped the camera between my hands. “I used this camera to take pictures of weddings.” Only the once, but still! “This is worth way more than one hundred dollars.”

The guy behind the counter in the pawn shop ran thin fingers through his greasy hair and bobbled his head at me. “Let me explain. You give to me, I give to you one hundred dollars, we call it even, yes?”

He had a thick accent, something Eastern European that I couldn’t place, and he wore arrogance like a coat. He reached for the camera and I held it back from him, squinting beneath the fluorescents in his ill-kempt shop.

“No,” I said.

“Heh, these women, heh,” he muttered. “You all think you know what price is for what. I tell you already, woman, it is one hundred dollar or you leave for free. Great price.”

“The leaving part maybe,” I replied, eyes narrowed. It’d been a week since I’d discovered my pregnancy, and I still hadn’t decided how I’d tell the father. The only decision I’d reached was that I had to make more money, and that meant quitting my photography course, selling the camera, and taking up extra shifts at the diner.

If I could get one of the damn store owners in this cursed city to buy the damn thing.

I waggled the camera at the dude. “This cost me seven hundred. It’s hardly used. I expect at least five hundred for it.”

“Five hundred?” The guy ran his fingers through his hair again, then raised his index. A tarnished gold ring glinted at its base. “No, no. No deal. I give you one hundred. Final offer.”

Frustration lumped in my throat and I gritted my teeth. Don’t attack him. He’s just a sleaze bag store dude. Don’t attack him. It’s your hormones talking.

“Well? What do you say?” He wriggled thick, dark eyebrows at me.

“I say –” I cleared my throat. “You know what you can do for one hundred dollars?”

“What?” he asked.

“You can kiss my lily white ass.” I spun on my heel and marched for the exit.

“Oh ho! Let me call my wife and tell her I will be home late, yes?”

I ignored him and pushed out into the sunlight, still gripping the camera. I stood on the sidewalk for a second, impeding the flow of foot traffic and drawing a couple grunts from passersby.

What a shitty way to start the day. Was everything going to be this difficult from now on? I didn’t want to be pessimistic here, but it was hardly a good sign that the first obstacle in my path had grown in size.

One hundred for a Canon. He really can kiss my ass.

I shoved angry thoughts from my mind and hailed a cab. The short ride over to my apartment was uneventful, apart from a couple weird coughs from the driver that made my skin crawl.

Ever since I’d discovered the pregnancy, I’d become super paranoid about getting sick. It was as if all the concerns about not being good enough had been replaced by concerns for the health of my unborn baby.

Our unborn baby.

The cab pulled up in front of my apartment before I could dissect that juicy nugget of a thought.

I paid him what little cash I had, then scooted across the pitted sidewalk and up the front stairs. I let myself into the building and huffed and puffed my way up to the second floor. I hadn’t even picked up any weight yet, or started showing, but everything seemed a little more strenuous now.

I unlocked the front door and stifled a yawn.

Something dropped to the carpet in the tiny living room at the end of the even tinier hall, and I frowned. “Carly? I thought you were going to be out all day picking China patterns.” I’d gladly opted out of being a bridesmaid, though she’d begged.

No answer from my friend.

“Carly.” I shut the door behind me. Shoot, something had dropped in there. What if she’d fallen? Or hurt herself? Stubbed her toe? “Carly, can you hear me?” I trotted down the hall, keys jingling in my hand, and stepped into the living room. “Carl –”

I cut off and shuddered a gasp.

Bain stood in the center of the room, eyes as blue as the Hawaiian ocean, sharp, gaze laser-focused on me. His cotton t-shirt tugged at the packed muscle beneath it, and his arms were bare of sleeves for once, exposing a vast range of tattoos, crawling up his tanned skin.

Sex with him twice and I never saw those. He never took off his shirt.

“Hazel,” he grunted.

I gripped the doorjamb and steadied myself. What the fuck? “How? Why – what are you doing here?”

“I think you know what I’m doing here,” he said, and his nostrils flared. “Did you think you could hide the truth from me?”

The words reminded me of Carly’s back in Hawaii. Ice seeped through my veins. “How did you get into my apartment?” I squeaked. “Did you break in?”

“Break in, huh? Because I’m an ex-con. Yeah, I get what you’re saying. However, if you think you’ll be able to push me out of my child’s life on some vague belief that I’m not a good influence, you have –”

“Wait,” I squeaked. He knew. Of course, he knew. Why else would he be here?

For one sweet second, I’d believed he’d come after me for another reason. God, what a dumb assumption. The silence swelled between us, and, finally, I moved across the space and took a seat on my ratty, worn sofa.

He didn’t. He watched me, towering, imposing in all his ruggedness. I could still taste his lips, smell his skin if I tried.

“Are you going to sit down or just stand there all morning?” I asked.

He blinked at me and didn’t move.

“You can be angry with me if you want,” I continued, wearily. “I didn’t keep this from you on purpose. I’ve only found out, actually, a week ago. I was figuring out how to go about contacting you. I was figuring out a whole range of things.” I removed the camera’s strap from my neck and placed the device on the coffee table. “So, you’ll forgive me if I didn’t exactly jump at the opportunity to contact a guy I knew for the entirety of a day to tell him, oh, hey, like, I’m pregnant by the way, just so you know. No biggie, guy who I don’t really know at all.”

The corner of Bain’s lip twitched, then settled.

“Which is on me, I guess. I shouldn’t have slept with you in the first place. It was reckless and stupid.”

“Fuck that,” he said.

“Huh?”

Finally, the hunk of man strode toward me and took a place on the sofa at my side. Up close, with his cologne spiking in my nostrils, and that gaze hot on my face, I experienced the same flush I had the first time he’d spoken to me.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he said. “What we did. Nothing happens by accident.”

I blinked at him, gulped. How was I supposed to deal with this, now? He was here, and I’d do my best to put up a brave front, but what we’d shared, just those two times, and the little conversations in between, had meant more to me than two years with Jacob.

And here was Jacob’s brother, oh god. This was wrong on so many levels.

“Okay,” I said, at last, and focused on the knees of my worn jeans – yeah, that had happened, no sexy dresses today. “Okay, so obviously you know I’m pregnant. You’re here because, what? You want to be a part of the baby’s life?”

“Yes,” he said, right away. “It’s my child.”

“But you’ll want a paternity test,” I continued. “Which is totally fine. I’m happy to do that. And it’s great you want to be involved, but it’s important for you to know that you’re not obligated to be.” It was the speech I’d prepared on and off for the past few days as I worked up the courage to call him and ask to see him.

“I’m glad you’re going to keep it,” he said, softly.

My spine stiffened, and I spun toward him, at last. “Keep it! Of course, I’m going to keep it. Why wouldn’t I? It’s my baby.”

“Relax,” he said. “My brother mentioned you hadn’t decided what to do yet.”

“Your brother –” Of course. Carly had told her fiancé and her fiancé had told his brother, and now, this was the situation I was in. “That’s fine,” I said. “It’s fine that he decided to tell you, because I was going to do that anyway.”

“Were you?” he asked and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought lies of omission were all the rage in our weird-ass relationship,” I snapped.

“I didn’t lie to you.”

“Omitted information,” I whispered and looked away. “I made a fool of myself with you.” That was another thing that’d streamed through my mind consistently over the past few months. “I trusted someone I barely knew, told you private thoughts, stuff about myself that I didn’t even tell my best friend, and yeah, you told me nothing and I went with it. I just wanted to please.”

“Hazel.”

“Well, that’s not me anymore,” I thundered. I rose from my seat. “I’m not here to please anyone. I’m not –”

He stood and faced me, looked down that slightly crooked nose. “Stop,” he said and took me by the forearms.

I wriggled a little bit.

“Stop,” he repeated. “I didn’t lie to you. And we didn’t know each other.”

“Don’t,” I said.

“Don’t.” He nodded. “But that’s going to change, now. Hazel, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you ran out of that hotel room.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why didn’t you come for me?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Out of some stupid belief that I owed my brother anything. That he was anything more than an asshole. And I did call,” he said. “You never answered.”

My brow wrinkled. I’d gotten a couple calls from withheld numbers, but I never answered those. It was just plain creepy. “You called, so what? Look, this doesn’t have to be something it’s not. It was all a mistake.”

“No,” he growled, then dragged me against his chest. “It wasn’t a mistake. The only mistake was on my part. I should’ve found you sooner.” He pressed his lips to mine, then kissed me hard.

I melted on the spot, dissolved into a puddle, and looped my arms around his neck. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. I hardly knew a thing about him – apart from the furious Google search I’d done one night stuffing my face with Twinkies.

Bain didn’t let go. He held me to his chest and our hearts beat in time, kiss deepening, heat shuttling through my arms, my legs, my core.