The blast of cold air swept through my room relentlessly. The chill found its way under my comforter with ease and roused me from my dreamless sleep with a violent shudder. Consciousness was barely licking at the edges of my mind when I realized why there was a draft. I could hear the wind as it rustled the last of the dying leaves on the trees surrounding the house, the howling it made through the branches, and lastly, the heavy grunted breath of someone in my room with me.

I sat up quickly, one hand dropping protectively to my stomach and the other stabilizing my body as I twisted awkwardly to see who was standing just inside the confines of my room. When my desk lamp lit up, I raised the hand on my stomach to shield my eyes from the glare, forcing me to blink through the sudden blast of white dots that littered my vision.

When they eventually started to fade, my heart sank, and my knees came as close to my chest as they could with the baby now in the way.

“I heard a rumor,” Dustin slurred, uncharacteristically cold in his inebriation. He moved to lean against the desk and missed, forcing him to stumble until his back hit the wall and held him upright. The sudden movement had him drift past the open window and the smell of bourbon wound it’s way around me, pushing me back toward the headboard as I grabbed the closest pillow and pulled it against my chest.

“You’re drunk?”

Dustin rubbed a hand over his chin, while the other lay flat against the surface of my desk and back against the wall holding him vertical. “Hey, I called you and told you it would probably end up that way.” He dropped his hand from his chin to point at me, his tone sarcastic as he narrowed his eyes at me. “I always tell you the truth.”

Shit, he knew. Fear blossomed in the center of my chest as I watched him with wide eyes. He was hurt, so hurt, and the sudden agony of the very real possibility of losing him sent a fissure of a break through my heart.

“Dustin…”

“No, no. You don’t get to do that yet.” He pushed off the wall and teetered his way to the bed, landing hard on his knees as he reached the edge. “I heard a rumor, Mik. A rumor from my ex… about you.”

My eyes slid closed but popped open the moment his cold fingers pinched my chin and kept my head from dropping forward. I could feel the panic and emotions boiling in the center of my chest, and the guilt was like tar as it coated my skin thickly. I’d been so careful. I’d needed him to know first and thought I’d pulled it off, but if Libby knew, I’d failed.

“I—”

“Don’t worry, she got it so wrong,” he said, dragging out the so until he slurred the tail end of it. “She said you’d cheated on me with some asshole in Amarillo. She said he’d knocked you up, but I knew the truth. I knew.”

“Stop it.” My tone was defensive and only made his eyes narrow farther. I wasn’t afraid of him even in this seething drunken state. I knew he would never hurt me physically. I was more afraid of losing him. I doubted much of what I would say could penetrate his alcohol-addled mind, and I needed him to be sober enough to listen to what I was saying rather than simply hear the words without attributing meaning to them.

Reaching forward, Dustin gripped the edge of the pillow I was holding to me and pulled, and I didn’t bother fighting him. If this was how he wanted to handle the situation—to have it out and lay everything on the table, all I could do was go with it and hope that once the dust settled he would come back and we could talk about things in the right way. That was my hope, anyway.

The moment he’d cleared the barrier between us, however, his eyes fell on my stomach, and they widened, held, and filled with tears.

“Jesus, Mikayla.” He snapped his eyes closed and turned away, and I accepted the hit to my ridiculous ego as the two sides of my brain warred out the emotional onslaught. Logically, I knew he was surprised at how pregnant I actually was. Illogically, all I could think about was how hideous I must look to him. Blinking back my own tears, I pulled my pillow from his hands and slipped my hand in its place.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I whispered almost inaudibly as my heart lodged itself in my throat. “Not when I found out. I was planning to tell you tomorrow when you showed up, to explain why I lied and hid this from you, when—”

“When what? When I wasn’t drunk? When I was home? After half the fucking town had mentioned how much weight that Quinten girl had put on? How you missed stalking me so much, you wore clothes ten times too big for you? Jesus.” He pointed to my stomach and then ran his hands up over his face, pushing his ball cap off, ignoring the fact that it fell to the floor as he fisted his hair. I ignored the implications that half the town had noticed my odd wardrobe choices and focused all of my attention on Dustin as he continued, “You know what the real kick in the nuts for me is?”

I shook my head as I forced the tears back. I wasn’t going to cry. I was going to be the strong one and face up to what I’d done. I owed it to Dustin to be the one that held it all together and answer all of the questions he asked and give him every bit of truth I had left in me. This might have been the only time I’d lied to him, but it was the biggest lie I could have ever fed him. That was on me.

“It kills me that you went through all of this alone – all of that fear, all the worry, all the panic and the financial shit. You did all of that on your own when I would have been right there with you if I’d just known.”

Lifting a hand, I cupped his cheek and took a deep, steadying breath. “Don’t you see though, baby? That’s exactly why I couldn’t tell you. You would have stayed here or dragged me to college with you. You wouldn’t have given your future or your academics the attention they needed. You would have been too focused on me and the baby, and in five, maybe ten years down the line you’d have resented me for it.”

“Wasn’t that my choice to make?”

“Of course it was, but—”

“There is no but here,” he ground out, his palm slapping against the bed in frustration. “You took my choices away from me.”

The pain in my chest was immediate, and the agony twisted and constricted until I felt like I was choking on the oxygen I was gulping in. I had taken his choice away from him, but that had been done out of love. For all I had rehearsed what I was going to say in my defense, every word left my brain and was replaced by the reality of what I had actually done. All of those moments like the first kick, the first craving, and the other weird shit that came with pregnancy, the scans and the sound of the wet thudding heartbeats… I’d taken all of that away from him. He’d needed to live his life and see what his future held, but that should have been his decision.

“Why, Mik?” he asked earnestly. “I love you so fucking much. You have to know I wanted to be here.”

I must have started talking four different times and stopped myself, leaving my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water before I finally found my voice again. “Because I love you enough to let you taste what your life should be. I love you enough that you can look at these past months and know exactly what your future could look like. I needed you to know what you would be sacrificing when I did tell you about the baby. I saw that pregnancy test and my life with my dad flashed before my eyes, all of that pain and hate because he and my mom had been irresponsible. I didn’t want you to resent our daughter or me like he resents me. Like he blames me. I never want our child to think she isn’t loved or wanted. She may be an accident, but she was made out of love. I want her to feel that.”

“Daughter?” he choked out emotionally, tears filling his eyes and glistening in the dull light. Rocking forward, he pushed his forehead against mine and gave a watery laugh. “We’re having a girl?”

I merely nodded in response, so overwhelmed by my reaction to his emotions I couldn’t find the words I needed to respond properly. Any lame attempt at an answer I could come up with became lodged in my throat the moment Dustin dropped his head into my lap and cried. I left him alone because no words of wisdom or comfort came to me, and chose instead to run my fingers through his hair as he bled emotionally, while I let my own gather and fall silently in the shadow of his.

I knew now that I’d been wrong to keep this from him, and that became even clearer when he eventually lifted his head and caught my eyes with his. There was a mixture of anger, understanding, and love in his gaze. He hadn’t forgiven me—he probably wouldn’t for a while—but that didn’t mean he didn’t love me, or he wouldn’t support me. That wasn’t who Dustin was. The realization that he would never be like my dad came only a moment before he spoke to me again.

“I’m not your dad, Mik.” He released one of my hands and smoothed down my hair with the other, hooking his fingers behind my neck so I couldn’t escape his soul-penetrating gaze. “I never gave you any reason to think I was, but that’s not to say I don’t understand.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking.

“After everything we’ve been through, you should know I wouldn’t give up on my dreams or you that easily. You,” he said then looked down at my swollen stomach. “Our daughter… that’s just going to make me try harder to succeed because I want to make you both proud of me.”

“Too late,” I mumbled, finally letting out a sob. “We’re already proud of you.”

“I love you, Mikayla Quinten, and I always will. Come back to College Station with me after Thanksgiving. Let me look after you both. We’ll make this work. You’ve more than made your point now. All I’ve learned is that life without seeing you every day ain’t much of a life at all.”

I didn’t have to think much about my response. I was on my knees, my lips crashing into his before I could form a verbal response. I’d been miserable being apart from him. I’d been sick about lying to him about the baby, and anxious about his reaction to discovering the truth, and here he was making me look like a fool because he was a better man than even I’d known, and he’d been pretty amazing to begin with.

“I love you, too,” I said against his lips as one of his hands moved to my stomach and stroked in wonder. “I love you so very much.”

Dustin laughed gently and brushed my tangled hair over my shoulder, one hand cupping the side of my stomach with wonder in his eyes.

“I want to—” His words cut out when the rage of a V8 engine growled from the highway just beyond our driveway. Dustin and I broke apart as the streak of light washed over my room and the two of us when it turned, followed by the sound of tires spinning on dirt announcing the driver. “Shit.”

“Shit?” I asked squinting at the temporary blindness the lights had created.

“That’s Rett… I think I said something when Libby… Christ, I should head him off before the shit really hits the fan. I’ll be back.” I had so many questions, but I could only assume Rett knew where I lived because of my father and the mess that went down between them. Pushing up from his place, Dustin headed to the window of my room, freezing only when he heard the deep growl of my father’s tone and the cock of a gun in the hall beyond my closed door.

It was my turn to react. My blood turned cold in my veins as the slow rise of panic sped up the pounding of my heart until I could feel it in my throat. I was on my feet in seconds, my hands planted on Dustin’s back as I pushed him halfway out of the open window. Dustin wasn’t the only one who knew nothing about my pregnancy. My dad was just as oblivious. In fact, he wasn’t even aware of my weight gain. I hadn’t seen him since the summer. I’d avoided him by forcing my growing body in and out of the window. If he discovered the truth while Dustin was in my room with me, I wasn’t sure how he would react. I doubted he would care other than the fact I was about to make him a grandfather before he was forty.

“Go. Get out of here now.”

“But…”

“Just go. You can’t be here if he comes in. He doesn’t know.”

Dustin’s eyes widened and moved between my stomach and the bedroom door. He stepped away from my outstretched arms and turned to face the door while the stomping of my father passed by as he moved to the front of the house. Now was not the time for heroics.

“No,” I hissed, shaking my head. “This won’t help a damn thing. If your brother tells him, he’s gonna come in here like a hound from Hell—all hot-headed and mad. You have to go. You will only make the situation worse.”

“I can’t leave you here to deal with him alone.”

“You can and you will,” I insisted, giving him another shove before doing the only thing I knew to do. “Please. Do this for me and get the hell out of here. I promise I will pack tonight and stay with the Hern’s until you’re ready to go back to college but don’t be the hero. Not tonight.”

“What if…”

“No time for that.” I gave him one last push as the panic made my hands tremble. “I love you more than you will ever know, Dustin Hill.”

“Don’t bet on that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I grinned, snuck in one last kiss as the key sounded in the lock to my door, and pushed him out of the window, sliding the panel back into place and spinning in time to meet my father’s enraged eyes as he threw the door open wide.

“Jesus. It’s true!” He raised his hands to his face, the .38 special pressed to his temple and catching what little light there was in my room. The gun scared me, and I knew I had to stall him. I had to give Dustin time to get away.

“Well, that’s a rather broad statement, Dad. What’s true?”

His face went burgundy with rage. His eyes, normally so similar to mine, went narrow as they focused on my protruding stomach, which was now poking out between my shirt and shorts. There was no misinterpreting that. I tugged on the shirt, trying to cover up the most vulnerable part of myself while I swallowed compulsively. My throat dried when a look I’d never seen before passed over his face, showcasing his fury.

“Where is he?”

“He’s gone,” I said with a calm I wasn’t feeling. I held up both hands in a gesture of peace. “This is between you and me, Dad. This has nothing to do with anyone else.”

“You knocked yourself up then?” he ground out, one arm swinging limply in the direction of the baby bump.

“That’s not what I mean, and we both know it.”

My father laughed without humor, his body swinging violently as he lashed out and caught my tallboy, giving him more momentum as it crashed to the side, scattering every CD I owned over the wooden floors, and thrusting my heart rate up into the territory of absolute panic. I’d never seen him violent before. I’d never seen him this angry when I allowed my second to think about it. He’d just said more to me in one sentence than he had in five years. Stepping back in retreat, I found the window at my shoulders and trembled as the pane moved, and the breeze swept in around my legs.

Dustin had come back.

Maybe he’d never left, but my main concern was that he’d only make what was about to happen a hundred percent worse than it already was. I was pretty sure I could talk my dad down, but that would all go to hell if he laid eyes on Dustin.

“Dad. Calm down,” I pleaded.

“Calm down?” He spun away from me again, swinging his arm over my dresser and scattering the makeup and pictures over the floor, giving me time to wave Dustin away. “You want me to calm down? I find my teenage daughter is pregnant, and you want me to calm down?”

My laughter surprised me. Of all the things I expected him to say, that hadn’t been it.

For years he hadn’t cared whether or not I was coming or going. The only decent things he’d done had been on the back of Jennifer nagging him and threatening to call Child Protective Services and have me taken away. The real and true emotion that I was feeling was accompanied by my loathing, but those emotions didn’t calm the situation. They only escalated the craziness of this odd confrontation that had been years in the making. The bitterness that tainted the sound of my laughter had my dad’s hands balling at his sides and his body leaning closer to mine.

“You choose now to parent?” I accused, throwing my hands up and tugging at the roots of hair at my temple. Gone was any modicum of calm or reason. Years of pain and anger were coalescing and surfacing to meet his. “You leave me alone for eight years to bring myself up, and suddenly your indignation and disappointment is supposed to cow me? You lost the right to parent the moment you chose a bottle and a whore over me... over Mom’s memory. You never fucking cared, you have no—”

The last of my righteous speech was cut off as a blast of white-hot pain flashed across my cheek and flared into a fire. My hands flew to my face in surprise, but in the confusion, I hadn’t realized I’d been knocked off balance, and only had a moment to choose what I could protect as the floor rose to meet me. My hands flew to my stomach, and another explosion of pain spread from my temple as it met the upturned dresser and the pain bathed me in darkness.

I can’t say exactly what happened next with any clarity. With the agony and my tenuous consciousness it all played out like stop animation, huge gaps missing pieces as my cognition faded in and out.

One long blink and Dustin was standing in my bedroom, hands fisted at his sides, while things rained down around me like shrapnel.

Warm hands gripped my cheeks, warm and comforting before they were ripped away in a growl of rage above us both.

Then there was shouting. So much anger and hatred that the noise made the darkness rise around me.

I was jolted awake by the deafening resonance of the gun going off still hanging in the air. I tried to focus my eyes, which were now filled with reds and pinks that I couldn’t blink free from, and my head was pounding out a rage of anger in my temples. All I could see through the fog were shapes. The light in the room had been smashed, and there was only a glow from the hall light outside of my room to stop all the shadows balling together in an amalgamation of black against gray. One figure fell to the floor, another bulldozed into the door cutting down the source of light. I blinked, trying to clear my vision again, and wished I hadn’t.

The third man fought his way into the room and was kneeling with his back to me. He was hunched over, and in his arms, he held Dustin, whose eyes were open and glassy as they stared openly and at nothing, devoid of all the passion and life that had always been there in the past.

My blood went cold.

My head swam. Sickness washed over me with such violence I curled in on myself as the white-hot pain started in my chest and flashed out through the webbing of veins in my system, and as the darkness of overwhelming sorrow claimed me, I heard a bitter scream of torture and realized too late that it was my own.