Page 92 of Clinch'd

Cooper swings around and says chidingly, “Still angry about us?”

“No,” I say sourly. “It actually wasn’t about you.”

“No?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing my eyes to his arms bulging with the flexion.

My mouth waters and I’m sure it’s because I’m hungover. Yep, that’s what I’m telling myself.

The corner of Cooper’s mouth curls and I glance at the tiny white scar before looking away. Fuck me.

“Listen, Lorri and I had a disagreement. It wouldn’t be pretty to throw us into a room together. Actually, never mind, I’ll walk,” I grumble, standing on unsteady legs.

Shit. Fuck. Damn. Ignoring the dreadful ache in my stomach and the whimper trembling on my lips, I go to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

“We’re thirty minutes from your place. Just hang out until she gets here, and I’ll take you home,” he says gruffly.

Of course, he lives across town. With a silent sigh, I pull away from him stiffly and then I can’t hold back the tide and I’m in the bathroom that I spied over his shoulder, puking in the toilet.

For about 3.5 seconds I don’t care that Cooper is probably disgusted because I’m so fucking miserable, I’m praying for death. And then it subsides, and I blink, his fucking form filling my vision before I give it up to god because surely the dick has something in store for me, I don’t understand.

“Minnie?”

“What?” I croak, whimpering when my stomach rebels and I surge again. Fuck me.

When I subside once more, he’s gone thank fuck, and I wobble to my feet before staggering to the sink and rinsing my mouth out.

I don’t bother to glance in the mirror because I don’t want to know. Instead, I wash my face and pull my hair back before emerging.

Unfortunately, the fun isn’t over yet because Lorri is waiting on the bed, and because I’m a moody bitch, I smirk to find her pale and positively sickly. Apparently, my puking didn’t go over well.

“What do you want?” I ask warily.

Frankly, I’m weak, nauseous, and downright bitchy. Now is not the damn time but Lorri has never cared about my moods or my needs for that matter.

“I have something to tell you,” she says sullenly.

With a long suffering sigh, I sit down next to her on the bed and raise a brow. Her bottom lip wobbles and she looks away before saying quietly, “I’m pregnant.”

And the bottom drops out of my world. Holy fuck. Twist the dagger a little deeper. Really?

“I’ve got to go,” I say.

“Min, I’m scared,” she whispers.

Staring at the door, I say woodenly, “Of what?”

I thought getting drunk and puking my guts out was bad. I thought Cooper comparing me to my fucking sister was bad. But this? Ha!

I can’t fucking see straight.

Clenching my fist, I wait for her to answer even though I should fucking go, but old habits die hard. Maybe I’ll always be the fucking sucker. Gah.

“I’m not ready to be a mom. Look how Mom did it. Fuck! She was shit,” she says with a sniffle.

Dropping my head, I say quietly, “So don’t be like her. You had two parents. They showed you the way.”

“Right, maybe.”

“Lorri,” I say, fighting back tears, “what do you remember from that day?”

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