Page 93 of Blind Luck

“Like needing a condom far?” Because Rusty didn’t have any with him. “No pressure, just checking.”

“The last time I was pregnant, I miscarried, so probably? I don’t know… I don’t even know… Please, I don’t want that to happen again.”

She looked at him for a beat and then burst into tears. Fuck. Rusty gathered her up in a hug because what else was he supposed to do?

“Baby, I’m so sorry you went through that. So fuckin’ sorry.”

“Sh-sh-she would’ve been called Esther. I b-b-buried her beside the apple trees in the backyard.”

Oh, hell. The baby had been born? Erin had actually given birth? Several years ago, one of Florence’s friends suffered a miscarriage, and nobody had mentioned a funeral, just way too much blood, cramps, and the need for a spa weekend. He’d paid for the spa weekend and stayed out of the way.

“They left you to bury her alone?”

“My sisters said it was normal. That sometimes, babies didn’t get the spark of life, and it was the Lord’s way. Then they went to the midday ceremony, and I just…dealt with it.”

Rusty kissed Erin’s hair, but what he really wanted to do was punch her so-called husband in the face. Then something altogether darker clenched around his gut.

“And you were sixteen years old when this happened?”

“Fifteen. I left the Promised Land soon after, right before my sixteenth birthday.”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed her hand. “Man, I don’t know what to say. I truly don’t know what to say. I mean, there aren’t enough words for that.”

“The worst part is that I was relieved,” Erin whispered. “If she’d lived, I would’ve loved her with my whole heart, but I’d still be trapped there. I couldn’t have left her behind. And if I’d taken his child, he’d never quit looking for me.”

At least, Elvis had assumed Esther was his daughter. Now that I understood infertility was a thing, I was, like, eighty-five percent sure my stepfather should take the blame there, which was yet another horrible event I’d done my best to block out.

“Fuck. Erin, I’m so sorry.”

What was the penalty for murder in California? However long Rusty might spend in jail, the satisfaction would be worth the price. But a homicidal boyfriend wasn’t what Erin needed right now.

He kissed her hair. “I can’t change your past, but I can change your future. And if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

“I just want to erase the bad parts. Which is most of them.” She looked up through teary eyes. “Make new memories with me?”

“We can make all the memories in the world together.”

“So you’ll get condoms?”

“Why don’t we watch a movie first?”

“A movie? You don’t want to sleep with me?”

“Oh yeah, I do. I fuckin’ do. But your cheeks are still wet with tears, and I want to give you a cooling-off period.”

“You think I don’t know whatIwant?”

He smiled as he kissed her on the forehead. “No, I think you do.”

“Well, I don’t want to cool off.”

Another kiss. “You’re hot, maybe a little fiery too. I’ll find condoms; you pick a movie.”

And snacks. He’d bring snacks. Anything to take his mind off eating her pussy.

Rusty thought she’d fallen asleep during the movie—although he wasn’t sure how because everyone on-screen seemed to be either yelling or shooting at each other—but as the credits rolled, she sat up and peeled her shirt off. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Damn.

“Erin…”

---