Page 41 of Everything We Left Unsaid

“Hey, lesson learned. That kid was like a honey badger all hopped up on crack.” Abby laughs and hugs them both goodbye.

I try making small talk with her on the ride to the hospital, but she gives me nothing but short, clipped answers to all my questions. Her leg bounces up and down, her nerves frayed, body coiled tightly. Reaching over, I place my hand on her knee to steady her leg.

“Sorry.” She gives me a sheepish look.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Just try to relax. She’s improving.” Her eyes drift to my hand when I give her leg a squeeze. I don’t mean it as anything other than comfort, but when she sucks in a quick breath, I realize my mistake. Her emotions are heightened, her entire body tense. Coupled with the feelings mounting between us, the simple gesture causes us both to pause. My fingers ache to slide the rest of the way up her thigh, and I can tell by the rapid rise and fall of her chest she’s craving the same thing, longing for a distraction. But now is not the time. Her grandmother is fighting for her life and Abby blames herself for the condition she’s in. I need to cool the heat rising between us and let her focus on her family.

I pull my hand free and she slumps in her seat, her head falling back against the headrest. She looks defeated and relieved all at once. Finding her hand, I wrap my fingers around it, needing to comfort her in some way. She releases a pent-up breath and stares out the passenger side window. I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking. She used to be an open book, but time – and heartbreak – have changed her. How will she handle it when I go back home? How will I handle it? I’m going to miss seeing Chloe every day. I vow to make the five-hour drive as often as I can. Maybe, one day, Abby will come home with me so she and Chloe can meet my family.

I cringe at the thought of breaking the news to my parents that I have a child. They’re going to lose it. There will be so many questions. They’ll cry and fight and deny she’s mine. Hell, they might even demand a paternity test.

And then they’re going to help me find answers. They’ll help me find out who had my phone all that time. They’ll help me find out who was texting Abby pretending to be me, the evil bastard who sent her that letter. It had to be someone on our staff, and my parents are responsible for who they allow into our home. Someone will pay for what they did to us.

“Ow!” Abby cries and tries to pull her hand away. I instantly release my grasp on her, her voice breaking through my daze.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, my ring was turned and the stone was digging into my finger when you squeezed.” She reaches over with her other hand and twists the ring on her pinky, righting the direction of the small diamond, none the wiser to my inner turmoil.

I don’t tell her what I was thinking. I don’t admit that I have no idea how to tell my parents about her and Chloe. I don’t tell her that I’m going to question everyone who worked for my family during that summer I spent overseas. She has enough on her plate right now. She doesn’t need to worry about the shit storm that’s going to tear the roof off this deception when I get back to Arlington.

Pulling up to the front entrance of the hospital, I drop her off and drive around in search of a parking spot. All the lots are jam-packed, so I end up driving around for several minutes before I find an empty spot. When I finally get to the ICU lobby, I bump into Ethan. Literally.

“Jacob,” he grits out, his disdain for me clearly written all over his face.

“Ethan.” I nod politely in an attempt to keep the peace. I don’t want to start anything with Abby’s brother, even though his thinly veiled contempt is starting to really piss me off. I remind myself he doesn’t know the whole story, and as such, has no reason to trust me. But it bothers me that he doesn’t trust Abby to make the right decision for her and Chloe. He doesn’t trust that she knows what she’s doing and that it’s her life, not his, that her choices affect.

He moves to shuffle past me, but I stop him. “I think it’s time you and I had a talk.” He freezes and straightens his spine, standing at his full height. We’re damn near eye-to-eye. He may even have an inch or so on me, but I’m not some barfly he can intimidate. I turn to face him fully, holding his gaze, letting him know I won’t back down easily.

He smirks as he looks me up and down, assessing me. “I think you’re right.”

“This isn’t the place,” I state, glancing around. People are coming in and out of the waiting room, staff members darting back and forth between units, pushing carts and carrying supplies. “I think we’re both going to need coffee for this.”

“That bad, huh?”

“You have no idea.” I shoot a quick text to Abby, letting her know where I’ll be so she doesn’t worry when I don’t immediately show up.

We grab coffees in the meager cafeteria and find an empty table. I blow on mine to cool it down before taking a few sips. Ethan leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable.

“Well?” he prompts.

I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “This whole mess started when I lost my cell phone...”

I tell him everything. From getting waitlisted for the internship in Sudan, to finding out only hours before they were set to leave that I was going. I explain to him that I lost my phone and couldn’t get in contact with Abby, and how I kicked myself for not calling Rosie’s sooner. He flinches when I mention Tiff and Luke and how their relationship deteriorated to the point where I couldn’t even relay a message through them to help me get in touch with Abby. The starving kids, the sweltering heat, the looks on the faces of the locals when we got their well up and running. The trip back home and the last phone call I had with Abby, the one where she believed I’d said and written those awful things and how confused I’d been by her anger.

I admit that I tried calling her repeatedly over the next week and how I finally realized she blocked my number. All hope was lost at that point, and I thought she’d given up on us so easily because I didn’t mean as much to her as she meant to me, so I gave up. I just fucking gave up.

I tell him what happened when I came back, how she and I were both so angry with each other it took us days to finally put the puzzle pieces together and realize we’d both been betrayed. I spill it all, every last, ugly detail.

To his credit, he doesn’t utter a word while I speak. He takes it all in, his stony gaze never straying from my face. He studies me for several beats but aside from the tick in his jaw, he shows no signs of what he’s thinking.

“Bullshit,” he declares finally.

“Excuse me?” I ask, stunned.

“You’re fucking full of shit.”

“I assure you that everything I just told you is the truth,” I grit out through clenched teeth, my temper flaring.

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