Page 95 of His Big Bad Stick

You really want to do this, kitten?

Her eyes say yes.

I’m finding myself unable to scream NO at her so easily.

It’s the pregnancy. That’s all.

“My father is the same man as always,” I say. “We never had a good relationship. His mind cared about one thing. Well, two things. Money and women. Last I heard of him he was living in the Keys with someone half his age. Engaged to be married.”

“That’s…”

“He tried to sell me,” I say. “Okay? I found out he was working deals with other agents and sponsors and stuff. He was using me as a meal ticket. Not that he needed more of a meal to eat. It just felt wrong and dirty. It turned into a really big mess for me. I didn’t play hockey for a few months and I swore I’d never talk to him again. That’s that.”

“Your father was always a creep.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Your mother. Heather? Right?”

Abrielle nods. “Funny story there. She changed her name a couple times. Due to some legal issues.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Credit card fraud,” Abrielle says.

Her eyes instantly fill with tears.

See, this is why I didn’t want to fucking do this. Why bring up shit like this? What am I supposed to do now? Console her? She brought this up!

“One of her husbands got her out of the charges. I guess. I don’t know. I’ve kept my distance for a while. She goes by Hannah now.”

“Wow. From Heather to Hannah. Okay.”

“There’s other stuff too. Stuff I don’t even know. Stuff I don’t want to know. She’s in Seattle now. Anytime I talk to her she complains she’s broke. She tells stories too. To try and get money out of me. I stopped believing her when I sold a painting to help her pay rent only to find out she was living with someone. She used that money for traveling because she had no rent.”

“Fuck,” I say.

“So it’s as fucked up as ever for them and us,” she says.

She sips her coffee and turns away, blinking fast.

Without thinking, I touch her sweetly curved hip and spin her back around to face me.

Then I reach for her face, gently, and I wipe away a stray tear.

I’ve done this before.

Last time I did it, I walked away and we never talked again.

Not until she showed up… bloody…

And now she’s pregnant. With my baby.

I lean down and brush my lips to hers.

The concoction of morning breath and sugary coffee lingers on my lips.

I’m not this kind of guy.

I can’t become this kind of guy.

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