Page 94 of Stealing Home

She takes my hand, and we both lean against the wall. “What happened?”

My lip quivers, and I have to take a shaky breath before I’ve got my emotions under control enough to speak. “I told you his dad hates me, or at least us being together. He tricked Scott’s sister into bringing his ex-girlfriend home with her by telling her that Scott wanted her back or something. They got into a fight, and Scott’s mom ended up going home with her friend. I think he finally understands how much he’ll have to give up to be with me, and it seems he’s decided it’s too much.”

Wren shakes her head. “I don’t believe that. Sure, it’s going to be hard being at odds with his dad, but I really don’t think that would be enough to stop him from wanting to be with you.”

I pick at a loose string on my shirt. Anything to keep some part of my mind occupied. “We’ve barely spoken since yesterday. Then we got up this morning, changed the tickets, and have been mostly silent since. Trust me, when he dropped me off here, he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Before this weekend he’d have come up with me, and if he couldn’t he would have watched until I was inside. I’m surprised I didn’t get hit with rocks the way he pulled out of here so fast.”

Looking over at her, it occurs to me that if it’s not safe for me to be here, she certainly shouldn’t be here alone and pregnant. “Why did you come here alone?”

“Griffin is downstairs playing with tools. He said he had something he needed to work on, but I know he was just pretending so we could talk. Come home with us. You shouldn’t be alone right now. Not only because your douche-nozzle ex could come back, but to keep you from going too deep in your own head.”

“I don’t see how I’ll be anything else. It doesn’t matter where I go, my thoughts aren’t going to quiet down for a while. I think I just really want to be alone tonight,” I tell her.

She nods. “Okay, but not here. Go stay in a hotel tonight. I promise we’ll have things set up for tomorrow.”

“I’m going to make a call before I go. I haven’t talked to my sister in a few days, and that’s not normal for us.”

Wren nods. “I’ll go downstairs and wait. Griffin isn’t going to leave until you do.”

For the first time in a couple of days, I smile. It’s small, but it’s real. Oddly, it also makes me feel like crying again.

“Don’t you dare get emotional. I’ll cry and probably not stop. Now, help me up, because I’ve got to pee for the billionth time today.” I stand up and help Wren to her feet so she can waddle back downstairs to the bathroom.

I take out my phone and dial Leena. “Hey, peanut, sorry I haven’t called you back.”

“I was about to send out a search party,” she teases. When she sighs, I know we’re going to move on to heavier topics. “Low, what’s going on? Are things not going well with the baseball player?”

“Uh,” my voice breaks, “I think it’s over.”

“Oh, Low, I wish I was there with you. We could get ice cream, watch sappy movies, and maybe make poor hairstyle choices.”

I groan. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. Mostly. At least I’ve learned enough to know not to get bangs after a breakup. Too bad I didn’t learn my lesson about dating athletes.”

“Maybe the problem isn’t all athletes, just baseball players. Hockey players are hot. Try one of them next time.”

I scoff. “There’ll be no next time. I’m going to get several cats and take up knitting.”

“Mmm,” Leena hums. “Sounds like a solid plan. But, hear me out, how about you wait before you commit to becoming a cat mom?”

“Fine, killjoy. I guess I’ll hold off on that for now.”

“Are you going to be okay? I can come out there for a few days if you need me to,” she offers.

“Thanks, sis, but I don’t want you to miss any school.”

“Well, the offer stands. You’re more important than the cello,” she says.

A tear rolls down my cheek, and I sniffle to keep a sob at bay. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Oh, Low. Take care of yourself, please,” she begs.

“Mmhmm,” I agree, then we quickly say our goodbyes.

“What’s over, Harlow?” I jump at the sound of Scott’s voice.

His rigid demeanor softens when he gets a good look at my face. “Have you been crying?”

More tears stream down my face. “No,” I blubber, proving I’m lying.

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