Page 53 of Sugar
He flashes a bright, unfiltered smile.
When we eventually pull up to my cabin, I’m surprised to see lights shining out of my windows too. “What the hell?” I mutter, squinting through the truck’s window.
“You expecting someone?” Wells asks.
“No.”
“Want me to come in with you?” Wells asks, sensing my apprehension.
I think about Mean-Eyed Maverick and his gang of outlaws who are probably looking for vengeance. I’m not sure it’d be cops at this hour . . . “No,” I tell him. “Just wait here a sec, yeah?”
Wells nods, and I get out of the truck, acting as normal as possible. There’s no use trying to hide the fact that I’m home—anyone inside would’ve heard us pulling up. I make my way toward the front porch, craning my neck to try to get a glimpse through the front window. It’s not until I’m climbing up the first couple of steps that I see a mess of long brown hair pulled up in a loose bun and an old red Mustangs sweatshirt.
Ava.
I exhale out a sigh of relief. But then a different kind of panic slices through me.
I turn to wave Wells off before opening the door. Ava tucked herself cross-legged into the far corner of my couch, hugging herself around her middle. When she looks up at me with a small smile, I notice the skin around her eyes is red and puffy.
Like she’s been crying.
Any remnants of the buzz I still had outside is gone in an instant. “What’s wrong?” I ask, eyeing her up and down.
“I’m so sorry for just showing up like this. I just . . . I needed to get out of my house.”
“Don’t be sorry.” I take a few steps toward her. “Are you okay?”
“Were you on a date?” she asks, before squeezing her eyes shut. “Actually, never mind, you don’t have to answer that. It’s none of my business.”
“No, it isn’t,” I agree. “But no, I wasn’t on a date. How would that look if someone saw me?”
There’s no mistaking the relief in her eyes, or the swoop I feel in my chest because of it. “Oh,” she says. “Right.”
I study her face, looking for any clues that might help me understand why she’s here or how to help her. Kicking out of my dirty boots, I make my way over to the couch and sit down beside her, keeping a respectful distance between us. I’m worried that if I press too hard, she might bolt. She’s here, which means something’s wrong. But I know from experience I need to let her come around to opening up. “You hungry?” I ask. “I have some leftover pizza in the fridge.”
She shakes her head. “No, thank you.”
My eyes drop to the sweater she’s wearing. A small grin pulls at my lips. Reaching out, I hook my pointer finger inside the hem at her neck and gently tug. My knuckle brushes along her collarbone, and I feel her lean into it. “If I remember correctly, you stole this from me junior year.”
She smiles too, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s my favorite.”
“Still looks good on you.”
She flushes, her fingers toying in her lap.
“Want a drink?” I ask. “I think I have some beer.”
“Maybe just some water?”
“Okay,” I say, getting up.
I make it halfway through the kitchen before she says, “Kasey, I have to tell you something.”
It’s the fear in her voice that stops me. I turn back around to face her, my worry spiking. The flush in her cheeks has disappeared and the rest of her face has gone pale.
And then she says two words I wouldn’t have ever expected to come out of her beautiful mouth.
“I’m pregnant.”
