Page 120 of The Goal

30

TUCKER

Fourth of July

“On a scale of one to I’m-ready-to-jump-out-of-this-speeding-truck, where are you on the freak-out scale?”

Sabrina jerks her head away from the car window. She’s been staring at the Boston scenery as if she’s never seen it before, never mind that she’s lived here her whole life.

“You can tell I’m anxious?” She grimaces, her pouty lips flattening out.

“Your fingers are white, so either you’re suffering from a serious condition that needs immediate medical attention or you’re squeezing the blood out of them intentionally.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her slowly uncurl her fingers until they’re straight and pink again.

“I’ve never met a guy’s parents before,” she admits, fiddling with the radio station.

“Good thing there’s only one,” I joke. Then her words sink in. “Wait—never?”

I remember her telling me she’s never had a boyfriend before, but I took that to mean college. Sabrina is gorgeous. If I saw her in high school, I would’ve laid in front of her locker every day until she agreed to go out with me.

It all makes sense now, why she’s been so on edge ever since I told herthat my mom was coming up to meet her. At first, we tried to make a plan for Sabrina and me to fly to Texas, but the cost of two plane tickets and a rental car didn’t make sense, even though it meant Mom rescheduling a few appointments. Besides, turns out a lot of airlines balk at pregnant women flying. I guess they aren’t really keen on deliveries happening on board.

The bonus about staying in town is that I’m able to work this holiday weekend and get some of that extra time and a half that Sabrina’s always bragging about. I’ve been working part-time on a construction crew in the city and making decent money, which is awesome because I’m trying not to dip into my savings unless I absolutely have to.

“I already told you,” Sabrina mumbles from the passenger side. “No boyfriends.”

Abandoning the radio, she sits back with a sigh. Her stomach is big enough that she can’t even cross her arms unless she rests them on top of the bump. Which is not a shelf, she’s reminded me more than once.

“Thought you meant college. Were the boys in your high school deaf, dumb, and blind?”

“No. They chased after me, but I didn’t have time for them.” She absently reaches down and rubs the curve of her stomach.

Every time I look at her, I’m struck anew with awe at the fact that my little girl is inside of her body. It also makes me fucking horny as hell. Thank Christ we’re having regular sex again.

“I was constantly hustling for scholarship money,” she goes on. “Working almost full-time at the post office since I was sixteen. In the summers I waited tables at night and worked at the post office during the day. Guys were…unnecessary. Other than, you know,” she waves vaguely toward her crotch. “Plus they didn’t know what to do with their equipment in high school. I was better off taking care of myself at home.”

My dick twitches against my zipper. The idea of her playing with herself makes me light-headed, and I have to wait a moment until some of the blood migrates back up to my brain.

“What about you? Did you date a lot in high school? Were you homecoming king?” she teases.

“Nope. I dated three girls. And homecoming kings in Texas are always football players.”

“You didn’t play football?”

“Not after ninth grade. I played hockey year-round. Coach Death’s rink was an hour north and I’d drive there pretty much every day.”

“So tell me about these three girls.”

“You’re that desperate for a distraction?”

“Yes,” she says eagerly.

I tap my fingers against the wheel, pulling up my dusty memories. “I dated Emma Hopkins in seventh grade until she got asked to the homecoming dance by a ninth grader. After that, she was only interested in older men.”

“This is fascinating. Tell me more.”

I grin. I can suffer a little personal embarrassment if it keeps her from worrying about meeting Mom.

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