Page 30 of His Bittersweet Regret

“I understand that, but I need to know where she is. She blocked my phone months ago, and I need to get in touch with her.”

“Why now? You suddenly tire of fresh pussy?”

“It wasn’t like that?”

“No? So that wasn’t Monica delivering your underwear to you on the street, right in front of Opal, then?”

“That was a one-time encounter.”

“You mean a one-night stand?” My brother corrected before rolling his eyes at me. “Funny, because you know how many one-time ‘encounters’ Opal had since you’ve been gone?” Ryker asked while using finger quotes when he repeated my wording. When I didn’t answer, my brother continued to dig the knife in just a little deeper and twist it.

“None. Because she’s not an asshole. And of the two of you, only she would have been in the right to go off and do just that. Who knows, maybe she would have if she hadn’t also found out that she was carrying your baby.”

“There’s no need to keep trying to hurt me, Ry. You couldn’t possibly hurt me anymore than I’ve hurt myself.”

“Yeah, I could. I could hurt you the same way you did Opal, because I promise you this, asshole, she’s been hurt far more and for far longer, and in more ways than even I know to count.”

“It’s not that big a deal, really.” I heard the voice of the woman we were arguing about and turned to see her walk through the door with my mother.

“It is a big deal that you are seven months pregnant and walking through that neighborhood. If I hadn’t seen you, who knows what could have happened.”

“What neighborhood?” I asked, wanting to know why my pregnant ex-girlfriend was walking anywhere that my mother claimed might get her hurt.

“Brambleton Manner,” my mother huffed.

“What in the hell were you doing walking over there?” I asked. Brambleton Manner was notorious for the types of people who lived and hung out there. My mother was right, it wasn’t a place the mother of my child should have been walking through, even if it had been a shortcut.

Opal ignored my question and continued to only focus on my mother. “Listen, I need to get back. Can you please just take me?” She looked about two seconds from breaking down and crying as her hands shook almost as hard as her voice did.

“Nope. You’re staying for dinner. End of. That’s my grandchild you’re carrying. I’m going to make sure you eat well tonight.”

Opal huffed in frustration as big, fat tears tracked down her cheeks. “This is kidnapping!” She yelled at my mother, who only chuckled at her.

“Call it what you will, but you aren’t leaving here until you eat.”

Opal bent, or tried to bend, to massage her calf muscle until she realized she couldn’t reach it comfortably. Then she moved to take a step and her leg nearly went out from under her. I moved at the same time Ryker did, and we ended up running into one another instead of helping Opal. Thankfully, my father had come up just in time to catch her before she went down.

“Whoa there, girl.” He leaned in, picked her up and carried her to the couch. “Let’s see what we’re working with?” He checked out her leg. “That’s a pretty big knot in the muscle, but what on earth is going on with your feet?”

We all glanced down to see Opal’s far too worn shoes and the blood that trickled out the back of one where a blister appeared to have been rubbed raw enough to pop.

“Kath, grab the first aid kit,” my dad ordered. “How the hell much walking have you been doing?”

“My new apartment is further away from work. It’s just a bit of an adjustment is all,” Opal whispered to him, but we all heard and immediately went on alert.

“How far?” My father asked again in a tone that did not invite argument.

“A few miles,” she sniffed.

“Miles? As in more than one?” My father asked, only to be answered by a shrug from Opal’s shoulders.

“I was almost home when Kathy kidnapped me.”

“Good thing she did too,” my father grumbled. Dad’s eyes came up to meet mine and I swear, if he could have killed me where I stood with that glare, he would have. This was all on me. No matter what else had happened, I put Opal in a position where she was walking several fucking miles to and from work each day at seven months pregnant.

“Does your doctor know that you’re walking so far every day?” My mother asked as she handed Dad the first aid kit.

“It’s a newer development,” Opal admitted.

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