Page 79 of Implode

I quiver over his snapping words. Everyone is angry with me tonight, and I’m not sure how much more I can take.

KNOCK.

I stomp to the door before someone decides to call for security. I don’t even want to know what my neighbors think of me. It’s not like we really chat, other than when our paths cross in the hall on the way to our residences.

I open the door a few inches to see Ethan’s angry face glaring back at me.

“Open the fucking door,” he grinds out, pushing it open only to be stopped by Nic’s strong arm.

“What do you want, Maxwell? I’ve warned you already with my fists to leave her the hell alone.”

“Oh, she didn’t tell you that she trespassed on my personal property? I have all the proof on my security system and will use it to bring you both down. I’ll do everything I can to protect Deena. She’s carrying my child.”

His snarling words freeze me to my core, causing the once warm blood to ice over in my veins. How? Why?

Fuck.

If my stumbling reaction doesn’t serve as its own truth serum, with the layers of my heart peeled back for examination, then the evidence sprawled out on the kitchen counter will do it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Ethan barks, pointing to the test sticks. “You’re carrying my offspring too?”

I feel my body sway, as every vulnerable cell in my body ignites into a fiery ball of despair. “I…”

“Dammit, Claire,” Nic hisses.

My legs turn to Jell-O and my knees buckle. I fold like an exhausted accordion, plummeting toward the floor of my toaster-sized apartment, too weak to handle the realization of how a few bad choices can culminate into this one pivotal moment in time.

“Claire!”

Strong arms brace me, lifting me and carrying me to a sea of pillows.

“Stay the fuck away from her.”

I try to lift my head, but it is anchored to my bed, unable to be moved. I curl awkwardly into a ball, as the chaos around me ensues.

“She could be carrying my child.”

“She could be carryingmychild.”

I force my eyes to open, only to see the two potential fathers for my child squaring off in some testosterone-filled showdown. Guilt shakes through my system.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth but the sound doesn’t make it out of my throat. I feel like I could throw up. Just seeing the two men together again brings up a lot of emotions that I was feeling in Vegas. Knowing that they both are mad at me for different reasons makes me want to just move away and forget that I even shook up their lives this drastically. I feel responsible for getting pregnant—even though logically I know it takes two. And in this case, there are three people involved—and an innocent one who has yet to be born.

“Little whore is a freaking sperm receptacle. She’ll spread her legs for anyone with a pulse. If I was smart, I would’ve—”

I hear Nic hiss and then watch as he darts toward my ex in a fit of rage. His body collides with Ethan’s, sending him to the floor. I roll off the bed and join the scene, letting out a yelp as I dodge the men and their swinging fists.

“Stay back, Claire,” Nic warns, as he punches Ethan in the face.

I wince as I watch his lip open up. “Please stop, you both are going to get hurt.” According to Angie, they’ve been in this situation before in Vegas, but this round I have a front-row view.

“You are going to pay,” Ethan snarls.

Nic hits him again, shutting him up. He jerks him up by his shirt collar, making Ethan’s eyes pop open. “You threaten Claire again, and I’ll break you. Stay the fuck away from her. Don’t look at her. Don’t even think about her. Your role right now in this whole situation is to just shut your mouth before I shut it for you. Do you understand?”

“There’s not a judge in this country that will see your little bitch as a fit mother.” He wipes at the blood dribbling down his chin. “So you better hope I’m not the father, because I guarantee I’ll fight to have both of my babies under my roof. And I’ll win. Siblings belong together—even if they have different mommies. You’d have to be crazy to think I’d share any custody with someone as unfit as”—he points my way—“Claire.”

I refuse to look into his beady eyes and give away any of my emotions. He is an exploiter, a manipulator, and a narcissistic pig—and that is putting it mildly.

---