I did as Aimee asked and kept an eye on Sara, making sure she didn’t spend too much time in the sun, making sure that she didn’t try to carry anything heavy. But I did it all from a distance, usually dispatching Zach or Luke with a message.
But at the same time, I noticed a lot of new things about her. For one, she stayed out of sight when there were townies around, preferring to hang with Zach and help with the permits paperwork, marketing and management he did for the Daredevils. It made me think that she was hiding, not wanting to be seen. She said she wasn’t running from the law, and I believed her; but she was hiding from someone.
And another strange thing; I saw her eyeing the carnie kids who were traveling with us as if they were an alien species. Almost as if they scared her. That seemed pretty odd behavior if she really was pregnant, and the complete opposite of how Aimee acted, a woman who obviously loved being around kids. I know that she helped home-school some of them and knew them well, but I didn’t think that was the whole story. If Sara didn’t like kids, why wasn’t she planning to get rid of it? Or maybe she was.
I was even more convinced that she was knocked up, because every morning I could hear her puking in the RV’s bathroom.
She’d taken to Zach and Luke, probably two of the quieter, calmer people around. She seemed to like Aimee, but they didn’t talk and giggle all of the time like when Aimee got together with Mirelle.
Thinking about Mirelle, I wondered what she would have made of Sara—you couldn’t get two women who were less alike. Mirelle was loud and happy and a helluva lot of fun to be around. She was friendly with everyone but protective of her friends, especially Aimee. She was also a flirt and loved to be the center of attention, but the woman had a big heart, too—big on family.
Sara was timid and shy, preferred to fade into the background, and never mentioned her family. I’d only heard her laugh once and she rarely initiated conversation with anyone. But she was also pretty smart. Zach said she had some mad computer skills and some really good ideas for marketing the Daredevils. One idea that Zach had taken on board immediately was finding out if KTM would sponsor us, since we all used their bikes.
She didn’t bring me coffee again, but I figured that Aimee may be right, because I definitely noticed her following me around like a puppy, watching me from a distance.
I could see that the kid needed a friend, but I wasn’t the man for the job, especially if she was developing feelings for me. Much better if she palled up with one of the other girls who traveled with the carnival. But she didn’t seem to get the message. I was forever looking over my shoulder and finding her trailing after me. The guys got a laugh out of razzing me on it, and it became harder and harder to ignore them. And her.
I ended up letting Tucker in on the plan. I know a lot of people thought of him as a loose-lipped clown, but that was just the face he liked to show to people. The man was deep water when you got to know him.
“That’s seriously fucked, bro,” he said quietly. “You really think she’s knocked up?”
“I don’t know, but she’s sick every morning, and she said the smell of Oreos turns her stomach. Who the hell doesn’t like Oreos?”
He nodded thoughtfully.
“Then . . . shouldn’t she see a doctor or something?”
“Yeah, she should. Zach and Aimee have been looking into putting her on the company health insurance. She shouldn’t have to rely on Medicaid. After all, she is working here.”
That was a loose description for the cooking and bit of light cleaning that Sara was doing. Zach was reluctant to give her a job where she’d interact with the public because he hadn’t done a criminal background check on her. Not sure that meant a lot when a jailbird carnie like me was selling programs before a show and signing them after. Even still . . .
And the jobs where she didn’t have to meet people all required muscle—something she definitely didn’t have, even if she wasn’t having a kid.
I shook my head.
“But first she’d have to admit that she’s knocked up. So, bearing in mind that we’re not supposed to suspect and we don’t know for sure . . .”
“Shit,” Tucker shook his head. “So . . . we just wait and look out for her?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’ll talk to Tera. She might have some ideas. Is Sara coming with us to Pomona?”
I sighed, running my fingers through my hair.
“I don’t know.”
Tucker leveled his gaze at me.
“She’d come if you asked her to.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
He stood up and patted me on the shoulder.
“You’ll do the right thing, bro.”
“Sure.”
Now if someone could just tell me what the hell that was.
Two days later, I was out of options, because Sara fainted, right after watching our show.
She’d been sitting in the first row of the bleachers, as she always did, then followed us out of the arena toward the back lot.
It was another scorcher, and sweat was pouring off of me when I pulled the bike up next to the rig.
Sara smiled a lopsided sort of smile as I climbed off my KTM 350, then turned white as paper and slipped to the ground.
I caught her before she slammed her head against the concrete.
“Shit! Sara!”
Tucker rushed over with some water and used one of my old t-shirts to pat it onto her face.
Kestrel raced across with Aimee trailing behind him on foot.
“I’ll call a doctor,” she panted.
Sara’s eyelids fluttered.
“No. No doctor,” she whispered.
“Everyone step back, give her some room,” I ordered.
Tucker quietly handed me the bottle of water and I held it to her lips.
“Drink.”
She held it with a shaking hand and took a few small sips.
“Thank you,” she mumbled. “I feel much better now.”
Ignoring her gasp of surprise, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her back to the RV, setting her on the bed.
I couldn’t help raising my eyebrows—I barely recognized the place. In such a short period of time, she’d decorated it with picture postcards from the carnival, two stuffed toys that I recognized from the fishing game, and a bunch of cushions and ribbons and girly shit, probably given to her by the other carnies. The quilt was covered with something pink and flowery, and she’d pinned colorful scarves over the window. The room looked more like Madam Sylva’s fortune-telling tent than my old crib.
Sara was propped against the pillows, staring at her hands folded in her lap.
“I’m fine now. Thank you, Zef.”
“You and me are going to have a talk,” I informed her. “And then you’re going to see a doctor.”
Her eyes opened wide.
“I don’t need a doctor. I feel fi—”
“Yeah, because people who are fine just faint all over the place. Are you knock—are you pregnant?”
The girl looked terrified.
“How . . . how did you know?”
Really? How naïve was this kid?
“Lucky guess,” I said dryly.
She nodded, two tears tracking down her pale cheeks.
“Please don’t send me away! I won’t be any trouble, I promise!”
I seriously doubted that, but I couldn’t bear the painful desperation on her face either.
“We’re not sending you away.”
“Promise?”
Mentally, I kicked myself for going anywhere near there.
“Yeah,” I said slowly. “I promise.”
Even as I spoke, I knew that it was a bad idea, and somehow this was all going to come back and bite me in the ass. But she looked so lonely, so hopeless. I knew what that felt like.
And I wondered if she had any idea how tough things were going to be for her. She seemed pretty clueless so far.
“Do you want to keep it?” I asked, trying to make my voice gentle.
She nodded again and looked up.
“I . . . I think so.”
Her pale blue eyes were glossy with tears and pink-rimmed. Her nose had turned red, too, and her skin was blotchy. She was a real mess.
“Well, if you want to keep it, you need to take better care of yourself. Stay out of the sun when it’s this hot, drink plenty of water and, um, eat right. I’ll get Aimee to fix you up with one of those baby doctors, okay?”
“I can’t afford . . .”
“Kes has put you on our insurance plan. It’s all taken care of.”
Her pink lips popped open, and then she flung her arms around my neck, sobbing her young heart out.
I patted her back awkwardly, embarrassed that I noticed she was crushing her breasts against my chest.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aimee watching from the doorway, and I mouthed, Help me!
She gave me a small smile then tapped lightly on the door and walked inside to sit on a corner of the bed.
“Zef’s right,” she said quietly. “We’ll take care of you. You’re going to be okay.”
That set off a fresh wave of sobbing. I tried to pass her over to Aimee, but Sara clung to my neck like a spider monkey. I was afraid I might hurt her if I tried to peel her off.
Aimee gave me a bemused look, then left the room, closing the door behind her.
Traitor.
Eventually, Sara’s crying had slowed to a few loud sniffs, then she unclamped her arms from my neck and wiped her eyes with her fingers. Silently, I watched as she composed herself.
Feeling like there was nothing more I could do, I stood up.
Her eyes followed me and her lips turned down.
“Take the rest of the day off,” I ordered, folding my arms across my chest. “No more chores today. And tomorrow you’re seeing a doctor. No arguments.”
She swallowed and gave a small nod.
“No arguments,” I repeated.
I’d already opened the door and stepped through it when I heard her soft voice behind me.
“Thank you, Zef.”
“You’re welcome,” I said gruffly, closing the door behind me.
I needed to change out of my leathers and take a shower. After doing a show in 95oF, I probably stank like a goat. But everyone was waiting for me in the living area.
“How is she?” asked Aimee.
“Okay, I guess. She admitted that she’s pregnant—and she wants to keep it. And, um, I kinda said we wouldn’t send her away. Hey! She was upset—I don’t know what to do with blubbering kids. Aimee abandoned me in there!”
Tucker snickered.
“Not that much of a kid if she’s having a baby.”
Aimee cuffed him around the head, but in one way he was right. I kept thinking of her as a kid, but she’d be a mother soon, bringing a new life into the world.
Hell, she was still a kid. I’d never met anyone less prepared to face the world. It was a good thing she’d run away with the carnival.
Aimee tugged Kes’s sleeve.
“I’ll see if I can get her an appointment with me tomorrow at the local hospital, then you can drive both of us.”
Kes didn’t seem too happy about that suggestion, but he gave a curt nod of agreement.
For the rest of the day, Sara stayed in the RV. I was pleased that she was taking my advice to rest, but I kind of missed seeing her around the place. I guess I’d gotten used to her.
The sky was fading in the twilight and I knew I needed to get back to the rig to start cleaning up. I’d been off my game all day and had made a couple of rookie mistakes in the evening show. It wasn’t entirely to do with Sara.
For a split second earlier in the afternoon, the briefest of moments, I thought I was seeing things—someone from my past. Common sense tells you that it can’t be, that it’s just the imagination of a tired mind. I tried to shake it off, but my time in prison had given me a sixth sense for danger. I could feel it, and I’d learned to trust my gut.
For the rest of the day, I was on high alert, scanning the faces in the crowd, looking for any small detail that didn’t fit.
When more than three hours had passed with no further sighting, I began to relax.
Mistake number one. Because then I saw him.
Roy hadn’t been in the running for any beauty prizes when I’d last seen him six years ago, but now he could have gotten a job in the carnival if we still had freak shows. The tattoos that had covered his arms and neck seemed to have flowed upward, with colorful ink covering the top of his hairless head.
His left eye was gone, an old scar making a seam through his eyelid and cheek. He’d put on some weight, too, a vast belt of fat hanging over the top of his pants. But his arms looked as thick and musclebound as ever, and he was flanked by two toughs whose cold eyes glared at me. One of them was swinging a metal stake that we used to hold down the canvas on the sideshows.
They’d found me in a quiet corner near the performers’ RVs and behind the rig. No one would see me here. And I didn’t think this was going to be a friendly hello.
Mistake number two.
“Hello, Roy. Long time.”
I stood with my hands hanging at my side, my stance loose and easy. There was nothing nearby that I could use as a weapon, so I’d have to snatch the stake from the goon on Roy’s right. It was my only chance, because I knew this wasn’t just going to be a spectacular beat down. I knew Roy, and he was out for blood.
“Colton.”
I waited for him to show his hand, tense and ready to move, but Roy seemed to want to take his time. He’d always been that way.
“You’ve been a hard man to find.”
I scratched my beard.
“I’ll talk to my publicist.”
He cracked a smile, showing a gap where his front teeth should be. Along with his bald head, it gave him an oddly innocent expression, like an overgrown baby.
“You like living on the road?” he asked companionably.
“I like it well enough.”
He nodded slowly, then pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, stuffing one in that big, gaping mouth, before offering the pack to me.
“No, thanks.”
He lit the cigarette, cupping the flame from his lighter as he looked up.
“You off the weed?”
“Living clean, Roy.”
The truth was that I’d given up when Kes had been hospitalized a couple of years back. I’d spent a lot of hours with him in there and I didn’t want to keep running out to get a smoke. It was easier to stop, so I did.
Roy gave a hacking cough and frowned at his cigarette as smoke leaked from his mouth.
“I should quit.”
“Yeah, you should.”
He gave me a sour look and we both knew I wasn’t talking about smoking.
“You testified.” He filled his mouth and spit onto the grass. “Federal fucking Rule 35. I didn’t think you’d do that to me, Zef. We were friends, goddammit.”
I leaned forward meeting his eyes glare for glare.
“We stopped being friends when you set me up. We stopped being friends when you put the word out that I was dealing meth. And a fucking friend wouldn’t have tried to bring my family into your shitty world.”
“You’re a self-righteous motherfucker, Colton. You ratted me out and you ratted my boss out.”
“I cut a deal when I heard you’d gotten out of Georgia. Last I heard you were in West Virginia.”
“That supposed to make me feel better? I’ve got a $20,000 bounty on my head!”
“Is that all?” I laughed. “Big time villain, Roy.”
He chuckled quietly, his misshapen mouth creasing in a laugh. Then he turned to the two men.
“Break his face first.”
The goon with the stake took a swing at me, the wickedly sharp edge catching in my t-shirt as I stepped just out of reach. He swung again, and I lunged forward, getting one hand on the stake before I was grabbed from behind. A kidney punch brought me to the ground, sending pain flooding through me, my back on fire, and I saw Roy’s heavy biker boot aiming for my face.
I formed my arms into an X-shape, blocking his foot as it grazed my cheek. I twisted, taking him with me, but the first goon was still swinging the stake, aiming at my exposed back.
Oh shit! This is gonna hurt!
I heard a scream but it wasn’t me.
Sara was standing with one hand held out in front of her as if she could save me, the other covering her mouth.
The second goon grinned when he saw her. She tried to run but he caught her by her long ponytail, yanking her back roughly.
Distracted by her screams, goon one hesitated in his swing and I managed to grapple the stake from his hand, slamming it against his shin, making him howl.
Then I heard another scream, but this time it was Roy, a high-pitched shriek that sounded almost inhuman. I looked up to see a knife sticking right through the middle of his hand, pinning it to his wide belly.
Then another knife thudded into flesh with a soft whump, and the goon holding Sara cursed as he tried to pluck a small throwing knife that was sprouting from his thigh.
“I’ll take out an eye next, and you don’t have one to spare.”
I recognized Ollo’s voice even as I thudded the stake into the other goon’s chest.
Then I heard the pounding of feet as Kes and Tucker came running over, landing punches and getting in more than a few kicks.
Roy and his goons were whipped, bleeding into the dusty grass of the back lot.
I glanced at Ollo.
“You missed, old man.”
“The hell I did!” he spat indignantly.
“Yeah? ‘Cause I could have sworn you were aiming for that fella’s fat ass.”
He started to laugh, a squeaky, coughing, wheezing sound. Then he strode forward, plucking free his knives as his victims bled quietly, their furious eyes jittery.
“These assholes friends of yours?” Kes asked idly, his gaze cold.
“Never seen the Brothers Grimm,” I replied, “but Roy and I go way back. We were friends until he tried to frame me and set up Daniel.”
Kes nodded slowly.
“What do you want to do with them?”
I glanced at Sara who looked as though she was going to be sick.
“Nothing permanent. Just take out the trash.”
I rubbed my bruised ribs while Kes pulled out his phone. Within two minutes, Al, the ride foreman and several of the roustabouts arrived and bundled Roy and the goons away.
“I’ll be seeing you, Colton!” Roy called, his voice ending in a groan as Buddy, one of the ride operators put a fist wrist deep into his overflowing stomach.
“Wait!”
I strode after them and grabbed the front of Roy’s t-shirt, hearing it rip as I dragged him to his feet.
“You had your chance, Roy, now listen up,” I hissed, my face inches from his. “I know enough about you to claim that twenty K reward money, but I’m not going to. I’ll leave that job to someone else because I don’t want your blood money. I did my time and I’ve paid my dues. But you know what? All it would take is one call and I’d give up enough new dirt on you to add a couple of zeroes to your bounty price. Every lowlife piece of scum would be after you—you wouldn’t last a month. Stay away from me and stay away from my brother. And if you’re smart, which you’re not, don’t ever go to another carnival because I’ll know, and I’ll make that call.”
His face was fixed in a leer of loathing, but I knew that I’d made my point. Buddy and Val dragged him away, while the other roustabouts hustled the goon squad from the fairground.
“You okay, bro?” Tucker asked, his eyes flicking from me to Sara.
“Yep. Thanks for your help, guys.” And I turned to Ollo and high fived him. “You’re a legend, old man.”
Ollo grinned, cleaning the bloody throwing knives on the long grass.
Tucker turned to Sara, his expression worried.
“You okay, sweet cheeks? They hurt you at all?”
She shook her head slowly, although she looked shocked and pale. Then her gaze turned to me.
“Aw, don’t you worry, sugar. It’ll take more than a couple of ugly sons-of-guns to get the drop on ole Zef over there. He’ll take care of you. Nothin’ that Maddie’s funnel cake can’t fix.”
I thought it might take more than that to wipe the memory of her fear, but silently I escorted her back to the RV.
And yeah, she said yes to funnel cake.
She sat curled up on the small couch in the living area, sipping on a hot chocolate. Aimee said sweet things were good for shock.
When she looked up, I knew that she was going to ask me about Roy.
“Who were those guys?”
“I don’t know the two henchmen, but I knew the other when I lived in Savannah. Haven’t seen him in a bunch of years.”
She studied the rim of her cup.
“He really hates you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s mutual.”
“What did he do to you?”
There were a lot of ways to answer that. I chose the easiest answer—and the one most economical with the truth.
“He tried to set me up—it didn’t work.”
I saw that she had more questions, but I was surprised by her new direction.
“How did you become a stunt rider?”
I didn’t feel much like giving her my life story, but if it took her mind off of Roy . . . I shrugged.
“I always liked motorcycles. Kinda just happened.”
She lifted an eyebrow, not buying my short answer.
“Yeah? I ride a bicycle. Maybe I can join the Daredevils.”
I couldn’t help a reluctant grin.
“Sure, we could go with a female rider—something for the fanboys in the crowd.”
She giggled.
“Seriously, Zef, how did you get into it? I mean, not every guy—or girl—who rides a motorcycle becomes a stunt rider.”
True, but I wasn’t lying either. It had pretty much just happened.
“I used to do some motor cross racing when I was a kid. My dad was into bikes and I learned from him. I spent a lot of time fixing up the engines and metalwork, too, since I couldn’t afford a mechanic most of the time. When I joined the carnival, I was helping out working on the rides, fixing the bumper cars or any piece of machinery that broke, those kind of things. I met Kes and Tucker—they’d just started out with the Daredevils and were looking for a mechanic. I ended up being a third rider as well.”
“You’re lucky,” she said, looking down. “Doing what you love.”
“Yeah.”
I was luckier than she knew.
Seeing Roy had reminded me of everything that I thought I’d left behind—and of everything that I had to lose.
The next morning, we were all awake early as usual. Sara was subdued at breakfast, but looked better than the day before. I noticed that she didn’t eat much, just pushing a piece of toast with peanut butter and jelly around her plate. I had to look away to stop from yelling at her to eat the damn thing.
I didn’t know if she was worried about her doctor’s appointment or whether she was still freaking out about Roy and his goons. She hadn’t spoken about it again, and I was of the opinion that the least said the better.
She looked different today for another reason, as well. For a start, she was wearing one of Aimee’s summer dresses and she’d left her hair long and loose instead of pulling it back in a ponytail like she did every other day. She wasn’t bad looking when she made an effort.
Kes had just helped both girls into Zach’s old truck that we used if we didn’t want to take the RV into town, when Zach walked over, accompanied by two men wearing neckties and hardhats, and both were carrying clipboards.
“Sorry, Kes. These men are from Health & Safety to do an equipment check.”
Kes frowned.
“Your colleagues were here on Monday morning before we opened.”
“Good morning, Mr. Donohue,” said the older guy. “My name is John Henderson. I’m the team leader for Grant County’s Health & Safety Department. We’re undertaking a second inspection because a member of the public expressed some concerns, so we’re here to check them out.”
Kes scowled.
“What concerns?”
“Specifically, how close your motorcycles come to the first row of the bleachers.”
“It’s all by the book.”
“We’d appreciate your time.”
“I’m just about to take my wife to a doctor’s appointment, so it’ll have to wait.”
Henderson nodded.
“I understand, but any delay could result in your first performance today being delayed—or cancelled.”
Kes looked as though he as was about to leap out of the truck and do some damage on the guy, but Aimee laid her hand on his arm.
“Kes, it’s fine. I’ll drive me and Sara to the hospital. We’ll be fine—I have GPS on my cell phone. It’s only twenty minutes.”
I could see that Kes was frustrated at being over a barrel.
“I’ll drive,” I heard myself saying. “I’ll take care of them.”
Kes was still torn, but Aimee threw me a quizzical look.
“Okay,” he said at last. “Look after them, Zef, I’m counting on you.”
I glanced at Tucker who was grinning at me, then mimed rocking a baby in his arms and making kissy faces while he laughed his ass off. Idiot.
I climbed into the driver’s seat and waited until Sara and Aimee had fastened their seatbelts. Then I saluted Kes, gave Tucker the bird, and drove off.
Aimee talked the whole way about prenatal vitamins, yoga for moms-to-be and a bunch of stuff I had no interest in, until she asked Sara the question that had been going around in my mind.
“So, how far along do you think you are?”
“Um, nine-and-a-half weeks.”
Aimee shot me a look at that very specific answer. I kept my eyes on the road.
“Oh, so you’re nearly as far along as me,” Aimee said brightly, but I could hear the concern in her voice.
At the hospital, I found a parking spot, then climbed out of the truck. I stood watching the girls, feeling like a spare part.
“I’ll go get a coffee while you ladies are being seen to,” I said.
“Oh, God, I’d kill for a salted caramel muffin,” Aimee said, her eyes lighting up. “Or a blueberry muffin. Maybe chocolate if they don’t have either of those. And a caramel latte. Or just a latte. No, wait! I can’t have too much caffeine. Make that a decaff or . . .”
“Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “Muffin and a milky coffee-free coffee. Got it.” I turned to Sara. “You want anything? You look like you should eat something. You hardly ate anything at breakfast and you’re too damn skinny.”
Her cheeks flushed and Aimee frowned at me.
“What? I just said she needs feeding. She’s gotta eat for two now.”
Aimee’s expression softened, but Sara wouldn’t look at me.
I sighed, wondering how Kes put up with their hormonal asses, and stomped off to find the cafeteria.
“We’ll be in the Maternity Women’s Center,” Aimee called after me.
I waved a hand but didn’t turn around.
I found the cafeteria easily and ordered two girly coffees, a black one for me, and half-a-dozen muffins. That should be enough. Then I changed my mind and bought a dozen muffins—I wasn’t sure how much pregnant women ate, but recently Aimee had made it her new hobby.
The server boxed up the muffins for me and put the coffee in a cardboard tray, then I carried them across the hospital to the Maternity Women’s Center.
Aimee and Sara were sitting together and they were holding hands.
“Kes just called. The inspection went fine and he was going to drive over, but I said we were okay and that you were looking after us.”
I grunted an answer that could have meant anything, but Aimee smiled and helped herself to coffee, rummaging through the box of muffins until she found the salted caramel that she was craving.
“I got you one, as well,” I said, pushing a latte across to Sara.
She looked up surprised.
“I didn’t ask for coffee.”
I shrugged.
“Don’t drink it if you don’t want it.”
“No, no, I want it.” She paused, then without looking up, mumbled, “Thank you, Zef.”
We weren’t the only people in the waiting room: three more women in various stages of pregnancy were there, too; one of them looking so enormous, my eyes kept straying to her straining stomach. Man, that looked painful.
A nurse stuck her head around the door and looked around expectantly.
“Mrs. Donohue?”
Aimee stood up quickly.
“Yes, that’s me!”
“Is your husband coming in with you?”
“Oh no, Zef’s just a friend,” Aimee grinned. “He’s with the other pregnant woman.”
Then she picked up a thick packet of documents that she’d brought with her to show the doctor, and walked away.
Sara blushed beet red and I was annoyed with Aimee for stirring the shit.
“Ignore her,” I said, handing Sara a muffin. “I do.”
She took the muffin silently, toying with the paper case.
“Aimee’s been really kind to me,” she said quietly.
I sighed.
“Yeah, but sometimes her mouth runs away with her. She doesn’t mean anything by it.”
“I know.”
“Okay, well . . . good.”
She nibbled at the muffin, and I had to clamp my jaw shut to keep myself from nagging her to eat the whole damn thing. It wasn’t that damn difficult to eat a muffin.
“I’m not a slut.”
I turned to stare, her words coming out of the blue.
“I never said you were.”
“But you were thinking it.”
That pissed me off.
“You have no idea what I was thinking about you or anything else.”
“I’ve only slept with two guys.”
“Good for you.”
Her lips quivered at my harsh tone, and I found myself back-pedaling again.
“Listen, Sara, you don’t owe me an explanation. I don’t think you’re a slut. I don’t think anything about you at all.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she started to sniff.
“Ah hell! I didn’t mean it like that!”
I pulled her against my chest and rubbed her back.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It can’t be easy, all of this. Just . . . take it one day at a time.”
She nodded, her narrow shoulders still shaking, and I felt all kinds of shit.
After a while, she quieted, and I thought for a moment that she’d fallen asleep. But then she looked up, her pale eyes wide as she blinked then pushed her hair out of her face.
“How come you don’t have a girlfriend, Zef?”
I stiffened at her words.
“That’s kind of personal.”
She gave a cynical laugh.
“So it’s okay for you to know everything about me, being a pregnant, teenage runaway,” she spat out as sarcasm dripped from her voice, “but I’m not allowed to ask you anything?”
I wasn’t sure what to tell her. For one thing, I didn’t know anything about her, not really. I knew nothing about her family, the father of her baby, or why she’d run away. And for another, I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her about Mirelle.
For a guy who’d spent the last four years staying away from complications or commitment, life sure was having the last laugh, and every damn woman I knew was having a kid.
“I’m not the kind of guy women want for a boyfriend,” I said, her own words tearing free an honest response that surprised me.
She stared up, a small frown creasing her smooth forehead.
“Why not?”
I shrugged, uncomfortable with her continued questions.
“I’m just not.”
She gave me a timid, hopeful smile.
“I think you’d make a great boyfriend. You’re really sweet and—”
“Sara . . .”
“You are! If I wasn’t pregnant, would you ask me out?”
“No.”
She sucked in a deep breath, looking hurt and confused. .
“Why not? Am I that awful?”
“Shit, no! Of course not! You’re kind of pretty . . . when you’re not crying . . . but you’re just a kid . . .”
“I’m not!”
“Okay, fine. You’re not a kid—you’re eighteen. Big difference. I’m 32 and I’m not looking to be a cradle-snatcher anytime soon. Got it?”
She pursed her lips stubbornly, then sighed and moved away from me, folding her arms protectively across her stomach.
“Yeah, I’ve got it.”
We sat in silence, but my mind ran through all the different ways that I’d fucked up that conversation, as well.
Jeez, the girl gave me a headache.
After a long, uncomfortable wait, another nurse entered the room, looking at her clipboard.
“Sara Weiss?”
“Here!”
Sara raised a trembling hand and shot me a terrified look.
The nurse smiled at me, still sitting too close to Sara.
“Is this the baby’s daddy?”
“N-no!” she stuttered at the same time as I said, “Hell, no!”
The nurse’s smile fell.
“Oh, well, come on through, Sara. Your friend can wait here.”
She disappeared through a door with the nurse, and I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.
This day was officially fucked.