Page 5 of Stowaway Whirlwind
Assholes. Her life is full of assholes, it seems.
She quickly wipes away a tear that’s formed in the corner of her eye before it falls. “His mom told me to…to…get rid of the baby, but I couldn’t.Wouldn’t. When I told him what his mom wanted me to do, he said he’d changed his mind. That his mom was right. That he wasn’t going to let a girl he was just passing time with or a baby hold him back while he’s in college. Make him miss out on the best years of his life.”
“That motherfucker.” I clench my fists. “The fucking nerve…I tell you what, if I ever come across this piece of shit ex-boyfriendof yours…” I pull off my ball cap, shove my fingers through my hair, and then shake my head. My pulse skyrockets. Every new piece of information she reveals is even worse than the last.
“Dude, calm down. What if I’m crazy? Like legitimately crazy and tried to baby-trap him? Poked holes in the condom or something? That wouldn’t be fair to him.”
I hold her gaze. “Did you?”
“No. But still, you just met me, and—”
“It doesn’t matter if I just met you, Goldie. My father raised me to be a better man than that. If my woman ever came to me and told me she was pregnant with my baby—even if it was back when I was in high school—I’d drop everything to take care of them. In my book, that’s what a real man does.”
“My woman,” she mocks in a fake deep voice. “What are you, like fifty? It’s the twenty-first century. And don’t you think you’re being really sexist? If he doesn’t want anything to do with the baby, then good riddance.”
I scoff. “I’m thirty-four—not that age has anything to do with it—and I don’t care what century we’re in. I don’t think it’s sexist to make sure the woman carryingmy childis taken care of. That she’s warm and safe andnothitchhiking across the damn country by herself.”
“Well, that’s, um…that’s sweet, I guess. Doesn’t change things with Colton, though, so let’s just drop it.” She fidgets with her hands and looks past the seats up front, out through the windshield. I follow her gaze, watching a few women in club-type outfits and sky-high heels walk past the front of the truck. “You might talk a big game, Davis,” she says, still staring out the window, “but you have no idea how you’d actually react in real life if you ended up in the same situation. I never would have guessed Colton would treat me like that, and you might turn out just as shitty as him if it ever happens to you.”
“Fat fucking chance.” I don’t know what possesses me to do so, but I slowly move my hand over to palm Goldie’s hard, rounded belly. It’s such an intimate thing to do, touching her baby bump like this. Is this how Wyatt felt the first time he really touched Dolly? The lowering of my blood pressure? The warmth that starts in my hand and travels to the rest of my body? This sense of peace?
My eyes had nearly bugged out of my head when I saw Dolly’s stomach bulge and flip when her baby moved, all alien-like. She laughed when she caught me looking and asked if I wanted to feel it. I had no desire to do so, and not only because Wyatt looked like he’d deck me in the face if I thought about touching her, even if it was over her shirt and not her bare skin. The man nearly murdered Dolly’s father when he attacked her, so I’d never in a million years cross him. But with Goldie…I don’t want to stop touching her. I want to slip my hand under her hoodie so I can feel the bare skin of her belly.
Goldie’s lips part with a puff of air as her eyes blow wide, her hands relaxed at her sides.
With a surprisingly gentle voice after all the rage on her behalf roiling in my gut, I tell her, “Listen, Goldie. I know you’re not my woman, and this”—I rub my hand up and down, hoping to feel the baby kick—“is not my baby.” I swallow hard, that sentence sticking in my throat. “But I’m going to take care of you as if you are until we get to Dallas.”
Well, fuck me, I did not know that’s what was going to come out of my mouth, but as soon as I say it, I know with one hundred percent certainty that I mean it. Goldie has no one else looking after her, not since her aunt passed, and I’m answering the call.
Her voice is breathy when she asks, “Why would you…why would you do that? We literally just met like an hour ago, and…and—”
“I told you, it doesn’t matter. You need help, and I’m in a position to help you.” I can’t seem to remove my hand. “You don’t have to do anything except say ‘thank you’ if you’re inclined to do so.”
Chapter 3
Goldie
I don’t know if I should be frightened of Davis—if he’s making some kind of move on me, having lulled me into a false sense of security—or if I should lean into his touch. No one’s touched me with a gentle hand in so long. Not since the last time Aunt Lydia palmed my belly with tears shining in her eyes, smiling after the baby kicked her frail hand.
Davis watches me, his expression shifting to one of awe, his fingers flexing over the spot my baby kicks while my thoughts spin. Do I trust him or not? Do I try chancing it with someone else? Or do Iwalkthe remainder of the way while hoping and praying that I don’t go into labor on the side of the road? When his eyes flare brighter, and he smiles from ear to ear as he rubs his hand up and down and across, waiting for the baby to kick again, I make my decision.
“Ok. Th-Thank you.”
He nods and finally stands after a long moment of staring, seemingly reluctant to pull his fingers away until the last second, as if what he just did—touching me like that, saying those kinds of things—isn’t a big deal. I don’t know what to make of him, other than that he seems genuinely generous and kind. Protective of a woman he doesn’t know simply becausehe thinks it’s the right thing, the decent thing to do. The kind of man I wish was the father of my baby and not the selfish asshole who decided he doesn’t give a shit about me or our baby after professing his love for me throughout our three-year-long relationship.
I need to scrub these thoughts from my brain, though. For all I know, Davis could end up being the worst man of all. The reality is that he is a complete stranger, and it would be foolish to compare him so soon to Colton or wonder what it would be like if I really were his woman. Silly. Stupid.Dangerouseven. And a complete waste of time.
I palm my stomach, feeling the baby kick against my hand. This baby deserves a better father than the boy who helped make them. But women can do anything they put their minds to nowadays. We don’tneedmen to give us permission or sign off on the things we want to do like opening a bank account or buying a home like it was back in Aunt Lydia’s youth. I can and will do everything in my power to take care of my baby without Colton’s help, and my child will never lack for love or anything else.
When I look up, Davis is just standing there, still staring at me with an expression I can’t read. When I tilt my head in silent question, he says, “Come on. Let’s hit the restroom one more time before bed.”
* * *
I can not for the life of me get comfortable in the passenger seat, my back screaming at me since my Braxton Hicks contractions have amped up. Davis was gracious enough to let me sleep onthe bed while he slept in his seat up front, but I know my tossing and turning kept waking him up.
I’m grumpy and fussy and eventually just give up trying to get comfortable altogether. I’ll be so damn relieved when this trip is over. I breathe in deep through my nose, waiting for the next Braxton Hicks contraction to pass.
“You ok there? You look a little flushed.” Davis frowns from his seat on the driver’s side, dressed in a similar version of the outfit he wore yesterday, this time in a red and gray flannel with a gray version of his football team’s ball cap.
