Page 51 of Surviving You, Scotch and Sammy 1

Fresh tears immediately spill over at the tenderness in his voice. “I don’t feel so well. Come see me? I need you right now.”

“I’m already at my bike. I’ll see you in a couple minutes. Are you okay?”

Define okay? “I need to talk to you. My mom and I just had a really big fight, so I’ve been crying, but don’t freak out when you see me, okay?”

“You got a puffy face, Ricci?”

I giggle and sob in one breath, then I look up into Angelo’s rearview mirror and study my red and puffy eyes. “Yeah, little bit.”

“Alright. Make Ang drive you right there. I gotta hang up now to ride, but I’ll see you in a minute, okay? Be a good girl and come straight to me. I’ll make it better.”

More tears escape despite my efforts to lock them in, but I nod my head and swipe away the moisture. “I’ll see you in a minute. I need a really big hug when I see you.”

“I gotcha back. I love you, Ricci. I’ll see you in a minute.”

“I love you too, Sam.”

***

Angelo silently and quickly drives us to The Shed, and though his fingers tap a nervous beat onto the steering wheel, he doesn’t speak. He’s thinking. Planning.

It’s not him who’s expecting a baby with a hysterical teenaged bride, but the guys are so close, it’s almost the same thing. This doesn’t affect them as much as Sam and me, but it will still rock all of our worlds.

Barely minutes after speaking with Sam, we pull into the dirt parking lot out front of the industrial shed, and I choke on a sob as my eyes lock onto his. He leans against the beat up old bike, with his arms across his chest and his boots crossed at the ankle.

He looks so grown up, but at the same time, still with the baby face. And his world is just about to change. The sun is in his eyes, but as soon as I climb out of the car and he gets a clearer view, he pushes off his bike at a dead sprint and has me swept up in his arms in the way only he can do. He might have the baby face, but he’s still so much bigger than me. Bigger, stronger, protective, comforting.

“Hey.” He swipes the tears from my face with the heel of his large hands. “I’ve seen you after a fight with your mom before. You’ve never looked like this. What happened, Ricci?” He steps back just half a foot, peeking down at my bare feet, then lifting me like I weigh less than a toddler, he cradles me in his arms and simply sits down on the loose dirt and gravel of the parking lot. “Where are your shoes? Your feet look really sore.”

“I hit my mom.”

“With your feet?”

I choke on another sobbing giggle, and bury my face in his warm neck. “No, with my hand.” I show him my still stinging palm. Without questioning it, he presses his lips to the sore spot, and warmth instantly radiates through my palm and soothes me, but then the rolling nausea in my stomach brings me back to reality and I clamp my lips shut before I spew in his lap. The sound of Angelo’s car door slamming shut draws my attention, and I follow his footsteps as he moves across the gravel until he stands at The Shed’s roller door about twenty feet away. He’s giving us as much privacy as he can, but he’s not leaving. He’s not ditching me, and more importantly, he’s not ditching his best friend.

“Start at the beginning, Ricci. Give me a good reason why I missed you at the lake this morning. Why’d you hit your mom? You don’t hit anybody, so this is big.”

“Can I start at the most important bit? I need to just say it before I spew again.”

“Again?” His eyes snap back to mine with suspicion, then his hand unconsciously goes to my stomach and he rubs soft circles into the tender area. He doesn’t even know how close he is. “Tell me whatever part you wanna, Ricci. But do it now. You’re killing me.”

“I’m pregnant.”

His entire body freezes, his eyes snap wide and his hand clamps down on my hip painfully. Sam’s entire chest puffs wide then freezes. His long hair falls into terrified blue eyes, and his breath ceases to come. “You’re…”

“Pregnant.” Rivers of tears stream over my cheeks, some into my mouth, others drip off my chin and land on my chest. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“You’re pregnant with my baby?”

I nod jerkily. I don’t take offense to his doubt, because I asked myself the same question today, but mine was worse, since I obviously know who was there. Shock sent me stupid, so he’s allowed to be stupid too. “Yeah. I don’t know how far I am. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. My mom told me I had to abort it, but--”

Sam picks me up again, roughly spinning me so I’m no longer sheltered in his embrace, but sitting high on his knee as he glares at me. “You wanna abort my baby?”

“No! That’s… No. I told her there was no way. I wouldn’t do that -- I told her… No!” My shaking hands go back to his face, because he’s no longer holding me, but he’s looking at me like I already betrayed him. “I didn’t mean to do this, Sam. But we’ll be okay, right?”

“You won’t abort my baby?”

Hot salty tears continue to drip from the tips of my nose and chin, but I lean forward so our faces are within half an inch of each other’s. “Never ever, I swear.”

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