Chapter 8

One does not simply explain to a pregnant woman that she is overreacting.

-Krisney to Reed

Krisney

I made it until six fifteen in the afternoon before he showed up at my door.

I knew I should’ve gone to the new place.

I guess I should’ve known that it was coming, to be honest.

But I didn’t.

There I was, wearing nothing but a pair of underwear and the t-shirt I’d stolen back from Hennessy the day I got back from Germany—which also happened to be Reed’s old soccer shirt from high school—when the doorbell rang.

I contemplated putting pants on, but with the way that the shirt swam on me, it covered more than a normal dress would, so I didn’t hesitate answering it.

In fact, since I’d already been expecting Hennessy, I opened the door and turned before I’d even seen who was on the other side.

“Come in,” I told Hennessy. “I’m job hunting.”

No reply was forthcoming, and I frowned before turning around. And nearly swallowed my tongue.

Reed was standing in my living room, closing the door behind him as he watched me.

I scowled.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned him.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t do a damn thing but watch me.

“What?”

He didn’t say anything, only came in and took a seat on the loveseat.

“It’s weird being here,” he admitted.

I snorted.

It was weird for me, too.

Since my parents had died, I’d moved back into my old house.

I hadn’t wanted to, but until I figured out a way to sell this place since I couldn’t afford the taxes on it, it would have to do.

My parents were rich, and by default since they didn’t have a will, I was, too.

Yet, I refused to spend any of their money. I’d been living on my savings account since I’d moved, and I was getting dangerously low on my reserves.

If my guestimations were correct, then I’d have exactly two more months to live how I’d been living before it ran out.

And I’d already canceled all of my parents’ utilities except for the ones I absolutely needed like water, electricity, and trash pickup.

All the rest of my monthly expenses, like television, Netflix—which really hurt the most—and my anime membership on Crunchy Roll and Hulu, had been canceled as of today.

With the doctor bills I was about to be accruing, I didn’t see any reason to delay the inevitable.

Hence why I was getting a job.

“It is,” I confirmed, uncomfortably aware that he was now looking at me instead of the house around him.

“Is that my soccer shirt?”

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest.

I’d stripped the bra off the moment that I walked in the door.

The pants had soon followed.

The shirt I’d already been wearing at the doctor, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that I was wearing it.

But, apparently, it was.

“I thought I lost that shirt.”

I didn’t reply.

“What are you doing here?” I asked as the silence stretched on.

His eyes flicked up to mine.

“I never wanted this to happen.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

I hadn’t either.

But it still smarted to hear him say those words.

“I’m sorry.”

And honestly, I was on birth control. Really, it hadn’t been my fault…or his. It’d been a joint effort, that was for sure.

As much as I had thought how we shouldn’t have done what we’d done, I knew that I wouldn’t have stopped it.

I’d wanted it.

Wanted him.

Had wanted him for a very, very long time.

It didn’t matter that twelve years had gone by. Not one of those days passed that I didn’t think about him. Didn’t want him. Didn’t miss him.

I started to cry.

And, for the first time in twelve very long, very exhausting years, I was back in his arms.

Everything in my world was right for the few short minutes that he held me.

***

Reed

The moment the first tear hit her face, I couldn’t resist any longer.

She was carrying my baby—my babies.

It physically hurt to be in the same room with her and not touch her, and I just fucking missed her. Plain and simple. I. Fucking. Missed. Her.

I missed the way she smelled, and the way she brushed her hair. I missed the way she talked my ear off about anything she felt needed my attention, and the way she stole my t-shirts.

My favorite ones, might I add.

I remembered that specific soccer one from high school. It seriously was my favorite.

It was worn out and soft due to the many washes and wears that ensued during my senior year of high school soccer. Games. Practices. Just for the hell of it. I wore it everywhere. It was an old faded gray t-shirt with Hostel Soccer on the front and a soccer ball. There wasn’t anything special about it, and it damn well wouldn’t fit me anymore, but I hadn’t known she’d had it.

Though, even if I had I wouldn’t have taken it from her.

I wanted her to have a reminder of me.

I wanted her to think about me.

Like she did every time she got into the car she refused to sell.

Her senior year of high school I’d helped her buy a car with the money that she was able to finagle from her father, as well as the money she saved from her summer job the last summer we were together.

It was a piece of shit. But it meant something to both of us.

Which was why she kept it even though she had been able to afford a new car for a while—and had a new car now. She drove it almost as much as her new one, and that was saying something since there wasn’t a promise that it would stay running the minute she left her driveway.

It was also why, every time it came into my brother’s shop, it had a permanent spot just for it. It was always kept open for the next time that she’d need it. And for four years while she was away with the Army, my brother kept it in his shop, in its exact spot, and I paid for the rent.

I paid the bill, even though she protested to Travis that she didn’t need the charity.

She likely didn’t know that I was the one paying for the parts or the space, though, because otherwise she really would’ve thrown a fit and refused to bring it there anymore.

We both knew that Krisney was a woman who would refuse the help based on principle alone, which is the reason my brother kept it quiet.

And I didn’t want her to do that.

I wanted to make sure she got it fixed correctly without getting shafted if she took it anywhere else.

The minute she started to cry, I couldn’t stand it any longer.

I needed to have her in my arms, if only for a little bit.

So, the minute the first tear hit her cheek, I was moving from the spot I’d occupied for the last few minutes, practically dive bombing her as I scooped her into my arms, pulling her in close.

I twisted so that we were both on the couch, and she curled further into me as she let the tears flow.

Having her in my arms again? It was like nothing I could’ve ever dreamed up.

I still remembered our first kiss. Our first date. Our first everything.

That feeling that hits you. The one full of nervousness, anticipation, and excitement all rolled into one.

I remember that day and those feelings just like it was yesterday.