Willow

I have to pee.

The bathroom is across the hall, only steps away, but I can’t go. I’m fake sleeping, and I have been for what feels like days. My muscles hurt. My head aches. As soon as Dallas leaves, I’m off Lauren’s couch, out of this town, and on my way back to California.

Even though my back is to him, I can sense him watching, his eyes slicing into my skin, hoping to cut answers out of me. He’ll end up empty-handed because I have nothing for him. My goal is to exhaust him with silence until he gives up.

What happened last night runs through my mind. I’ve never seen Dallas so angry and intense.

In an attempt to go back to sleep, I close my eyes, but my plan is ruined when it hits me. I nearly trip over him when I jump off the couch and race down the hall, straight to the bathroom.

Un-fucking-believable.

Why now?

I make it to the toilet just in time as everything I shoved down my throat last night comes up. It’s disgusting. I’ll never get used to this morning-sickness hell. I flinch when a cold hand moves along my neck to attentively grab my hair and hold it behind my shoulders. He silently kneels next to me and keeps his hand in place until I finish.

“Good ole morning sickness?” His voice is soft and comforting—the complete opposite of what he gave me last night. He must’ve slept off the asshole.

I flush the toilet and slide away from him, my butt hitting the cold tiles, and I rest my back against the bathtub. He waits until I get comfortable and hands me a bottle of water.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a long drink. “It seems morning afters aren’t our thing.”

“I’d have to agree.” He slumps down against the closed door and stares at me, doing what I knew he’d do—wait for answers. His foot brushes against mine when he stretches his legs out. He’s in the same clothes as he was last night, his jeans unbuttoned, and his hair is messy.

I cock my head toward the toilet. “You want a go at it now?”

His thick brows squish together. “Huh?”

“I figured it was your turn to puke your guts out. You had to have been wasted off your ass to tell yourself that showing up last night was a sound idea.”

He chuckles. “I’ll admit, that was a stupid decision. I’d been drinking, but I wasn’t wasted, and I’m sure you understand the shock I was feeling.”

“No,” I reply sarcastically. “I can’t relate at all.”

He found out I was pregnant. I’d found out I was carrying a physical being in my body by someone I couldn’t stand.

He scratches his cheek. “How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” And he jumps right in.

Eighteen years. My entire life if I could’ve gotten away with it.

“To be honest, I have no idea.”

He links his hands together and holds them in front of his mouth, trying to come up with the right words. He blows out a ragged breath. “You don’t like me. I get it. And, to be honest, you’re not exactly my favorite person right now either for keeping this from me. But I have to get over it, just like you have to get over what happened between us.” He points to my stomach. “Because that? That changes shit.”

“It doesn’t change anything. I’m not expecting anything from you. I can do this on my own.”

He holds his hand out, looking shocked. “Let me get this straight. I’m an asshole because I had a minor freak-out after we had sex? What does that make you for your secret? You’ve known you’re pregnant for who knows how long, and you didn’t think it’d be right to let me in on that tidbit of information?”

“You have a halfway good point,” I mutter.

Okay, it’s a full good point, but I won’t give someone credit when I don’t like them.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart. Looks like we’re about to have that talk.”

I snort. “Not happening. I can still taste puke in my mouth. I’m not doing anything but brushing my teeth and getting in the shower.” I narrow my eyes at him. “So, don’t make yourself comfortable. We’re postponing the talk.”

“Okay, princess. Tell me when it’s convenient for you. This afternoon?”

“Tomorrow.”

“You’ll be on a flight tomorrow.”

“And? Lucky for you, they’ve invented this thing called a phone. I’ll call you when I get home.”

“I’d rather do it face-to-face.”

“Then, we can FaceTime.”

He pulls out his phone. “What time is your flight leaving?”

“Why?”

His eyes are on his phone as he starts typing and scrolling his finger down the screen. “Lucky for me, Hudson booked your flight and sent me the information this morning.”

“Fucking snitch,” I mutter.

“Looks like I’ll be joining you. Hopefully, I can pay off the poor soul who’s stuck next to you, and we can talk about it all the way back to California.” He gives me a cold smile. “It’ll be fun.”

If he thinks his behavior is going to make me work with him, he has another thing coming.

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I am?” He holds his phone out, so I can see his screen. “Would you look at that? They have seats available.”

“Don’t you think that’s creepy? Following me around? Stalking me?”

“Not stalking you. Asking for answers. This conversation will happen whether you like it or not. I’d prefer not to chase you around the goddamn country, but if that’s what it takes, I will.”

I cross my arms with a snarl. “Fine, I’ll talk to you later.”

His dark eyes level on me. “Promise you won’t bail.”

I force a smile. “I promise.”

He hesitates before getting up and taps his knuckles against the door. “I’ll be seeing you soon, Baby Momma.”

“I hate you!” I yell to his back.

* * *

“I’m pissed at the both of you for keeping me in the dark about this,” Lauren says, placing her glare on me before switching it to Stella, who ditched Hudson this morning to show up here with muffins and a list of everything she wanted to know about what had happened with me and Dallas last night. “I have so many questions right now.”

Lauren hasn’t let me do anything since she woke up this morning. She’s a nurse, so you’d think she knows that carrying a baby doesn’t make you disabled.

“Questions I won’t be answering,” I mutter. “No one, except for Stella and Hudson, knew about that night. I was hoping it’d stay that way.”

“One question, and I’ll shut up,” Lauren pleads.

“I’m not talking about having sex with your brother,” I argue.

Her face pinches. “Gross. Not where I was going with this, creep.”

I lean back in the barstool. “You’d better make it a good one because that’s all you’re getting.”

She settles her elbows on the counter and eagerly stares at me from across the island. “How did it happen?”

I wag my finger at her. “I’m blaming it on you.”

She takes a step back and shoves her finger into her chest. “Me? I might get messy drunk sometimes, but I don’t recall telling you to take your panties off and give my brother the business.”

I frown. “Fine. Let’s blame it on the whiskey and lack of entertainment in this town’s only bar.”

Her mouth drops, satisfaction twinkling in her eyes as she puts two and two together. “The night at the pub?”

I stubbornly nod.

“Holy shit. I am to blame.”

Stella scoots in closer. “They’re the last two people I imagined screwing.”

“Screwed,” I correct. “A one-time thing.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Stella asks. “You do know, Dallas isn’t going to let you freeze him out.”

“No.” I was so hell-bent on keeping this a secret, I never thought about what would happen if the truth came out. “We’re talking later.”

Stella perks up. “Like, a date?”

Lauren cracks a smile. “Survey says they’ve surpassed dating. She’s carrying his baby.”

I flip her off, and my throat tightens while I prepare myself to ask her a question I’ve been trying to avoid. I stare at Lauren. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

Dallas’s family’s reaction is another reason I wanted to keep this private. They loved his wife, Lucy, like she was their own, maybe even more than Dallas. He’d started dating her before he even knew his dick could get hard, and I’m some random one-night stand crawling in to replace her.

“Why would I be mad?” Lauren questions. “As long as you’re not screwing the same man as me, I couldn’t care less, and inbreeding isn’t my thing.” She skips around the counter to wrap me in a hug. “It’s no secret that I loved Lucy, but I understand the circumstances. I want my brother to be happy. He needs to move on.” She pulls away and settles her hands on her hips. “Now, my answer would be different had you kept this from him.”

She’s acting cool but also letting me know where her loyalty stands. If she has to pick a side, it won’t be mine. If she thinks I’m the one Dallas needs to move on with, she’s out of her mind, but like so many other times, I choose to keep my mouth shut.