Page 159 of His Big Bad Stick

“What is that supposed to mean, Abrielle?”

“It means whatever is on your mind, you need to tell me. It’s not just about your feelings.”

I point to my stomach.

That makes him flex his jaw.

Colver zips up his bag and lifts it off the bed. The strap slides over his massive shoulder and he starts to walk toward me.

I block the doorway. I shake my head.

Colver touches my chin. He’s soft. But he’s angry.

“I kept my word to you, kitten. I showed up. Saved you. That’s what I’m good for. Like I said. I doubt you’ll ever see that piece of shit again. Which is good for everyone. But hearing him question if I’m the father of your baby…”

I gasp. “That’s what he said to you? Oh, Colver, there is no-”

“I’ve got to go, Abrielle. You wanted me to say what was on my mind, so I just did. Now I’m going to go.”

“That’s not how it’s supposed to be!” I cry out as Colver leaves the bedroom. “We’re supposed to talk about everything!”

He freezes. “Were you going to talk to me about finding a new place to live? Didn’t mean to see it on your laptop, but that’s on your mind. So you can keep that to yourself, huh?”

“No, Colver. You’ve got that part wrong.”

He looks back at me. “You can write this any way you want, kitten. I’m leaving. Play it through your head any way you want. I’m carrying my bag and going to play hockey. That’s what I do. That’s how I support myself. And how I’m going to support my family.”

His eyes move down to my stomach at that last sentence.

I have no doubt (as I said before) that he’ll be a good father to our baby.

But why can’t I be greedy… why can’t I want Colver to love me the way I love him…?

Why can’t I cry as I watch Colver leave?

Why can’t I just break this fucking cycle my mother left for me and his father left for him…?

“That’s not coffee,” I snap.

Jess’s eyes go wide. “It’s a smoothie. Healthy. Yummy.”

“You don’t sell smoothies.”

“No, I don’t. I went and got you one. You cannot drink more coffee. I don’t care how tired you are.”

I’m in a bad mood.

A really bad mood.

Last night, I slept in Colver’s bed. Alone.

I cried. I tossed and turned. I had dreams of him with another woman. Getting married to her. Buying a big house with her. Me showing up to that giant house to pick up our daughter or drop her off.

Yes, in my dream, I’ve given birth to a girl.

Then I’d wake up and cry some more.

I wanted to text Colver but refused to allow myself to do so.

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