Page 71 of Tempted By the Broken Cowboy
I stumble out of the hospital, barely hearing Beck’s voice trailing after me. My chest feels like it’s caving in, every breath scraping against my ribs. Pregnant. The word echoes in my skull, sharp and merciless.
No, no, no. This cannot be happening.
The sun is too bright outside, the air too thin, and people are just walking around as if the ground hasn’t split beneath my feet. My hands shake as I clutch my bag against me, trying to anchor myself, but it doesn’t help. I’m floating, untethered, about to spin into pieces.
My future, dreams, career—proving to everyone that I’m more than just an Atwood girl with a rich daddy who is the mayor. It all flashes before me like smoke slipping through my fingers. And at the center of it all is Beck. Beck with his crooked smile and rough hands that have held me through so much. Beck who promised me safety and love. Beck who swore he would never let me down again.
And now this.
Tears blur my vision as I shove past a couple heading into the hospital. They shoot me a look, but I don’t care. My heels click too loud on the pavement, my stride too fast—maybe if I can just outrun the truth, it won’t catch up to me.
I’m pregnant with his baby!
I press a hand to my stomach as if I’ll feel it already there, the proof of all my mistakes blooming inside me. A child I didn’t plan for. A child that’s going to ruin everything I wanted for myself.
And it’s his fault. It has to be his fault.
If he hadn’t walked into my life, if he hadn’t kissed me like the world would end without it, if he hadn’t whispered things in the dark that made me believe, I wouldn’t be standing here on the edge of my carefully built world, watching it crumble.
I clench my jaw, fury mixing with the terror until it’s impossible to tell them apart. I love him—God help me, I love him—but right now, all I can feel is betrayal. Because Beck always dragschaos behind him, and somehow, I let myself believe I could dodge the fallout.
I couldn’t, obviously.
I don’t remember the drive home. One minute I’m waving down a taxi, rambling off an address; the next we’re pulling into the long, gravel driveway of Atwood Manor. The tires crunch against the stones, announcing me before I even step out.
The house looms over me, polished and perfect, the kind of place where nothing messy is supposed to exist. And here I am—messy, raw, and... pregnant. My throat tightens as I shove open the heavy front door, the familiar scent of leather polish and my mother’s roses slamming into me.
“Quinn?” My mother’s voice drifts from the parlor. She appears in the doorway, pearls at her throat, her brows knitting the instant she takes in my face. “What on earth—?”
I brush past her before she can finish, my heels clicking hard against the marble floor. I can’t stand her cool, assessing gaze. Not now, when my insides are a storm.
My father is already rising from his chair in the living room, newspaper forgotten on the table. His eyes narrow, sharp as a hawk’s.
“What’s wrong?” His tone isn’t gentle. It never is. It’s clipped, demanding, as if I’m a soldier reporting in.
“Nothing.” The lie catches in my throat. My chest heaves, tears threatening to spill, and I know they don’t believe me.
Landon comes down the stairs with Louis close behind. My brothers freeze when they see me, their easy banter dying instantly. Landon’s face softens, concern tugging at his mouth, while Louis looks wary.
“Quinn,” Landon says carefully, stepping closer. “What happened?”
I shake my head, hugging my arms tight across my stomach as if I can shield the secret already pulsing inside me. My voice breaks when I whisper, “Everything. Everything’s ruined.”
My father’s jaw tightens. He takes a step forward, his presence filling the room. “Is this about that Morgan boy? Because I warned you—“
“Don’t,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. The sound ricochets off the walls, making everyone flinch. I’ve never raised my voice in this house, but the dam inside me is cracking.
My mother crosses her arms, her silence louder than words. She’s already withdrawing, choosing disappointment over comfort. It burns worse than if she’d slapped me.
I glance at my brothers again, desperate. Landon’s brows furrow, his eyes scanning my face, searching for the truth written there. Louis shifts uncomfortably, torn between further antagonizing our parents and protecting me.
And then, just like that, I feel it. The weight of this whole house pressing down, judging me, suffocating me.
I’m not Quinn the badass, independent woman who was going to change Wrangler Creek. I’m just their daughter who made the worst mistake imaginable.
The sound of tires screeching outside makes every head in the room whip toward the front door. My heart stutters, my stomach flipping violently, because I know exactly who it is.
Beck.
