Page 13 of Under My Skin

“I don’t know how. I don’t know how we’re going to make it,” I sniffled. “I can’t support a kid. My student loan is barely enough to supportme, let alone a newborn baby. And I don’t know how the hell I’m going to pay for a funeral. The money from our parents’ insurance settlement and is almost gone.”

“Mal didn’t want me to tell you, but he’s taking care of the funeral and the hospital bills,” she whispered.

I lifted my eyes from my nephew to look at her. Even though she was smiling, her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, and I could see the tension written all over her face as she tried to keep her composure. I knew she was trying to be strong for me right now, but she was grieving my sister’s death too.

“He’s doingwhat?” I asked.

“He called the funeral home and the hospital and paid the balance on both accounts. He said it’s the least he can do. And you know if you need to borrow some money?—”

“No,” I cut her off. “I can’t do that. You know I never would have let him pay for the funeral or the hospital bill if I’d known about it. It doesn’t feel right taking charity, especially from the two of you.”

“It’s not charity. It’s love,” she chuckled softly. “And that’s why he didn’t tell you about paying for that stuff. Because heknewyou wouldn’t let him.”

“Thank you,” I sniffled. As uncomfortable as I was, Iwasgrateful for the help. “That’ll help me for a while. But money’s still running out. I’m going to have to drop out of school. Especially since I’m going to have to pay for childcare.”

“You’ve got a little time to figure it out,” she soothed me. “Look, I know Isaac’s father said he doesn’t want anything to do with him?—”

“He doesn’t,” I bit out.

“Do you have the phone number Amara had for him anywhere?”

“Yeah. We called from my phone once because we thought the publicist was purposely ignoring her number on the caller ID.”

Which had also been the last time we’d ever called, because that was when the bitchy publicist had threatened us with legal action and criminal charges.

“It’s worth a shot to try calling again. Maybe if the guy knew what happened to Mar, he might feel differently about being involved in Isaac’s life.”

“Mar was told in no certain terms by that stupid publicist that he never wanted to hear from her again and that they’d press charges and sue if we told anyone or tried to contact them again,” I reminded her.

“I wish I knew who it was,” Malachi practically growled as he walked out of my bedroom and plopped down next to Morgan on the couch. “I’d make sure the whole fucking League knew what a piece of shit he is. You stick your dick in a woman, you fucking man up and take responsibility if you knock her up.”

I sighed, but didn’t say anything. I wished so much that I could tell them. I hated keeping something like this from my best friends. But I didn’t know how serious that woman was about suing or pressing charges against me, and I couldn’t afford to take that risk. Isaac needed me here, not in a jail cell. And every dime in my bank account needed to go toward supporting him, not toward lining a greedy, litigation-happy football player’s pockets.

“Is there anything else we can do for you right now, babe?” Morgan asked quietly.

I sighed and shook my head. “I just want to get some sleep while this little man’s out. He’s going to be hungry again in a couple of hours.”

“Okay. We’ll leave you in peace,” she said, hugging my shoulders again before standing up. “If you needanything, call me, okay? I’ll come check on you tomorrow.”

“And we’ll be here at ten on Saturday to pick you up for the funeral,” Malachi reminded me.

I nodded. “Thanks, guys. For everything. Really. I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few days.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Morgan said as they headed to the door. “Don’t forget to lock up behind us.”

“I won’t,” I said, standing up. “Love you guys.”

“We love you too,” she told me. “Take care of yourself and make sure yourestwhen he’s resting. Okay?”

“I’ll try,” I sighed. “Thanks.”

They left, and after I locked the door behind them, I walked into my bedroom and set Isaac in his bassinet. I sighed andflopped down on the bed, pulling my phone out of my pocket and scrolling through my social media feeds, trying to figure out what the hell to say about Amara and Isaac.

Morgan’s words about trying to get a hold of Isaac’s father one more time played over and over in my head. On impulse, I went to my call history and scrolled back three months to find the number I’d dialed. I didn’t know if it was the grief going to my head, if I was just so overwhelmed and exhausted that I didn’t know what else to do, or if I just wantedsomeoneto give a shit that my sister was dead and I had a newborn baby to care for, but I couldn’t stop myself from hitting the call button.

The line rang three times, and I thought it was going to go to voicemail, but then someone picked up.

“Garman and Garman, Vicki Preston speaking,” a woman chirped.

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