Page 56 of Reckless and Rooted
But that is probably too much to admit to her father.
“Jax.” He shakes his head, a disbelieving chuckle leaving his mouth. “You don’t want to be a part of this, son. You need your own life.”
I shake my head, switching the grocery bag to my other arm. “Sir, with all due respect, she is my life.”
Fuck. It is too soon to say that, but it is the only thing in my life that feels real, that feels like pure truth.
“Are you ready for that?” He looks at me intently, like he is trying to find lies beneath the surface. Lies that aren’t there.
“Sir, I’ve been ready for your daughter since I was fifteen years old.”
He steps back, shaking his head. “Then you’re a good man, Jax. Raising another man’s baby is not something everyone is willing to do.”
For a moment, my brain has to process his words, as if they were another language. I stand there, unable to keep the shock off of my face, and watch as the blood drains from Felicity’s dad’s face.
“I, uh…” he stammers, uncomfortable with the silence that seems to be a vacuum sucking out the air between us.
My feet take a few steps back, my body telling my brain to get out of this situation before I can properly process the feelings that start to course through me.
“Jax,” Mr. Vogel says, looking stricken.
“I have to go.”
By the time I get to Felicity’s house, my heart has finally calmed enough to allow my brain to process what I now know. The new information, though small, seemed to take every bit of me to finally cycle through and become concrete.
Another man’s baby.
Baby.
Felicity is pregnant.
I think back over the last few weeks, how she was eating like she couldn’t decide what tasted good and bad, how I haven’t seen her drink, not once, how she wore baggie sweaters around me all the time, how she wouldn’t fully hug me tight like she used to, how she hadn’t let us go further than kissing.
She didn’t want me to know.
I hang my head as I sit in her driveway, regretting the note in the greenhouse—hell, and the greenhouse itself—so fucking bad right now and wish I could go back in time to take it all away.
She told me we needed to talk, and like an idiot, I didn’t take that as a bad sign, but as a sign she is ready to commit.
Instead, I thought about what she was going to say, what she was going to excuse.
Fuck.
She should have told me! I bang my hand on the steering wheel when a moment of horror hits me. The night my dad’s thugs found me and beat the shit out of me, what if they had gone after her? What if she had gotten hurt in the process and something happened to the baby?
I jump out of my truck, not bothering locking it as I slam the door and march right into her house, my adrenaline pushing mepast the shock and panic and straight into the rage that felt like it was consuming me.
“Felicity!” My voice echoes around the semi-empty house, the furniture still needing to be placed, and follow when she yells from the back of the house.
I reach the door at the end of the hall and march in, my feet eating the space between us until I’m right there in front of her. Her eyes are wide with shock, her hair up in a bun on top of her head, and a paintbrush in her hand.
“Is it true?” I demand, keeping my eyes locked on hers and imploring her to tell me the truth.
“What? Jax, what’s wrong?” She sets the paintbrush down and reaches for my hands. I hold them back and ask her again.
“Is it true, Felicity?” I say, my eyes finally raking over her and seeing her in shorts and an oversized sweatshirt. “Are you…” I swallow, trying to keep my emotions in check. “Are you pregnant, Felicity?”
My voice is quiet as I ask the question, unable to shout like I really want to. Felicity’s eyes stay wide as they work over my face, and her shoulders drop. Before she even utters a word, I know that, without a doubt, it is.
