Chapter 18

Gigi

I stiffen in the bed, even though it’s the best night of sleep I’ve gotten in months. The last, of course, is the night I slept in the bed with Jameson in Dallas. It’s surprising, considering he spent the night on the small sofa in the room. He woke me after the sun had set and convinced me to eat something which I did, but fell asleep again shortly after.

“She’s sleeping,” Jameson says from the hallway.

“It’s noon, Hound. Is she sick?”

Shadow.

I should’ve known that they would arrive shortly after my knight in biker boots scooped me off of the sidewalk yesterday.

“Kinda,” Jameson responds.

I have no clue why they haven’t busted down the door and insisted I go pack my shitty apartment. Dad wouldn’t let Jameson block the door, so I know he must’ve bowed out of my latest ‘rescue.’

“The fuck does kinda mean, Hound?” Shadow’s voice is filled with irritation and only tinted with anger.

You’d think they’d get tired of chasing me all over the damn place.

“You need to get her up so she can go home.”

Kid.

Those two always travel together.

“She has a choice to make.” I stiffen as worry settles into my bones.

Is Jameson just going to put my business out there with these two?

“Kincaid expects her to come back to New Mexico.”

“I’ll let her know.”

I smile, the concern I was feeling that Jameson was here to drag me back fading away.

I flip the covers back, stretching my back, arms high over my head. The ding of a cell phone notification draws my attention. I don’t have a phone right now. Paying for the minutes after I left a couple of months ago seemed like a waste of time, so I didn’t buy new minutes when the original ones ran out.

The voices go quiet in the hallway, and I wonder if Shadow and Kid have dragged Jameson away to beat his ass behind the hotel. I can’t concentrate on that for very long because I know when my stomach grumbles that the nausea is only a few moments behind. I consider the crackers and room temp ginger ale Jameson went out and grabbed last night.

Even though I know it’s a waste because I’ll just get sick again, I sit, legs tucked under me on the bed and nibble the crackers, washing it down with the smallest sips of ginger ale I can handle.

When twenty minutes go by without Jameson returning to the room, I turn on the TV and flip through not finding anything I’m interested in. I never watch TV, especially since getting pregnant. There’s one in the backroom of the diner, but when I’m not working, I’ve been sleeping.

I stare at an episode explaining how baseballs are made, but I’m not really watching it. I nap on the couch and eventually crawl back into the bed. Benny is going to be pissed. Kori took over my shift yesterday, but I was supposed to be at work over an hour ago. I’m certain my stuff will be in the dumpster, and another girl will already be living in my space by the end of the day. Too tired, I can’t manage to even care. These shitty waitressing jobs are a dime a dozen, and honestly, Kori is so fucked-up, moving on soon was in my plans anyway.

The ringing of Jameson’s phone wakes me just after two. I have no intention of getting in his business, but when it silences and rings again, I pick it up.

IZZY CALLING flashes on the screen.

“Hello?” I say after the call connects.

“Who is this?” the caller asks.

“I could be asking you the same damn thing,” I mutter.

I didn’t have grandiose plans about a charmed life lived in bliss with Jameson, but I also didn’t consider another woman being in his life.

The call disconnects without the woman saying another word.

I move to put the phone back on the bedside table, telling myself, pregnant or not, I have no say in anything he does. He didn’t insist we be together. Hell, he was adamant that there was no happily ever after where I’m concerned.

Anger builds, and irritation grows exponentially as I stare at his phone.

“Not your business,” I say out loud trying to convince myself.

Curiosity and the need for full disclosure win out just like I knew it would.

I swipe the front of the screen, surprised that a man like Jameson doesn’t have a lock code on his phone. Then I’m hit with the insidious thought that he left me here alone with the phone so I can discover things he doesn’t have the balls to just come out and say.

First, I see the text to Shadow giving him the address to this hotel and the room number. It may not say ‘come get her’ or anything like that, but the text is bad enough. I realize he’s on my dad’s side, loyal to the end even though he knows when we disclose the pregnancy that he may be fired, if not strangled.

The next text thread is with the woman who just called. Without remorse, I tap and pull up the thread. Picture after picture of a young girl, duck lips and all assault me.

I stare, disgusted at what I see. I’m young, but there is no way this girl is even out of high school. With majestic green eyes, surrounded by lush lashes, and so much dark hair it’s almost a curtain over one in many of the pictures, I can’t deny that she’s gorgeous. Even in tank tops with puckered lips, there’s an innocence about her that I can’t see Jameson being attracted to, but the proof is in the evidence. He’s saved every one of the pictures she’s sent in a folder title MY HEART.

That stings.

The texts are cryptic, not really saying anything specific about meeting or hooking up, but the I LOVE YOU staring at me right in my face is hard to stomach. It’s not only said once but comes at the conclusion of every texted conversation that they’ve had.

Jealousy, other than directed at my perfect twin, isn’t an emotion I’m very familiar with, but it rumbles in my stomach until nausea hits me in the chest. Unable to ignore it, I’m off the bed and over the toilet a second later. The small meal of crackers and ginger ale rebel in my body and I get sick.

Trying to convince myself that it’s the morning sickness I’ve had for the last couple of weeks, I rinse my mouth out and stare at my face in the mirror. Rosy cheeks and that dull look in my eyes I hate so much stare back at me.

For the first time since Jameson practically abducted me in front of the clinic yesterday, I doubt my decision to let him drive me away from that place. Walking away from him right now would be so much easier if the deal was done, and I only had myself to worry about.

Sure that I’m not going to get sick again, I crawl back in bed and ignore his cell phone on the floor.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I laid down, but it feels like hours I’ve been trying to fight the tears that want to fall.

“Still sleeping?” he says with a chuckle as he closes us in the room.

The walls feel like they’re closing in all around me. I sit up, needing to run, but knowing I have to face him.

His brow crinkles when he reaches down and picks up his phone.

“Izzy called,” I say with a nonchalance I don’t feel.

“I’ll call her back later,” he replies and places the phone back on the nightstand.

“She didn’t seem very happy that another woman was answering the phone.”

I stare into his green eyes, challenging him and waiting for a reaction of some sort.

The cocked eyebrow isn’t exactly what I expect.

“You answered my phone?”

I shrug. “It was ringing. Ringing phones get answered.”

“I see.”

I have no idea why he's so aloof and cryptic but he sure as fuck isn’t giving anything away. The red-hot anger I felt earlier bubbles from just under my skin. It was as far as I could push it down while waiting for him to return so he could give me the answers I need before I leave him and this fucking city far behind.

“She seems a little young.” I shoot for an easy, conversational tone, but my bitterness is hard to hide. “What is she fifteen? Sixteen?”

“Seventeen,” he corrects with his stance just a hair wider and arms crossed over his chest.

“She let you fuck her hard?” He sneers. “Up against the wall? Does she enjoy your cock? Your piercings?”

“Georgia,” he warns.

“You think I would keep this fucking baby around you worrying what you’d do to her since you like them so fucking young? You’ve lost your mind.”

I expect his anger, but what I don’t expect is his hand around my throat.