Page 71 of Sugarloaf Ridge Lies

Chapter Twenty-One

Jerry

She’s having a baby.

It was all I could think of while the cops questioned me.

I’d say I’m no longer welcome at the Royal Mail.

Now, having sat in my car until the windows have fogged up and the evening mist settled over my car, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around the mother of all bombs Liv dropped before returning to her party.

My Liv. The woman I was imagining a future with is pregnant.

Jealousy spikes like poison in my veins at the idea of another man holding her, moving inside her. Filling her with his seed.

Christ.

Did he force himself on her? Is that one of the reasons why she baulked when things got serious at her place? Is sex something that brings up bad memories?

Thoughts of Skylah and my dad flood my head.

Whoever did this to Liv, if he hurt her, manipulated her, I’ll tear him apart. Limb by fucking limb.

I bang the heel of my palm against my forehead repeatedly until I see reason. Swiping the dampness from my cheeks, I blow out a heavy breath. “Fuckin’ hell.” This isn’t about the father, whoever the hell he is. I’m such a dick. This is about Liv, and how she’s coping with the news. Life has thrown her a curveball. She’s finally got a job teaching, standing on her own after the accident, and now she has someone else to think about. To plan for.

It’s a big deal, but it’s not a deal breaker. My feelings for Liv are as strong as they ever were.Is the pregnancy why she pushed me away, or is there more to it?

Whatever the answer, I need to know.

My boots slip against the gravel as I high-tail it back into the pub. There’s no sight of her.

I try to keep my cool as my heart races like a runaway thoroughbred.

We have to talk.

I recognise Liv’s friend Nat from the bonfire and make a beeline for her.

Her eyes widen as I approach. “She’s gone home,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Ineedto talk to her.” I rub at my temple as a pounding ache sets in. There’s so much we need to talk about. If anything, I want her to know I’ll be there for her in whatever capacity. Even if all I can be is a friend, to help her through this, I’ll do it, even if it eats away at my insides when I want more.

The tall woman takes my elbow and guides me towards an area of empty tables. “She told you?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yes, but—”

“No. Jerry.” She presses her hand to my chest, her eyes narrowing in warning. “You need to give her space.”

“I want to help,” I plead.

She shakes her head. “You’ll do that by keeping your distance. She’s fragile right now, and this is what she wants. You have to respect that.”

I want to argue with Nat, grab her by the shoulders and tell her that’s the last thing I wanna do. I need to be with Liv, to support her. But I keep my mouth shut because I’ll scare Nat, and it’ll only give her another reason to keep Liv from me.

I storm off towards the bar and buy a bottle of whisky to take away.

It seems like the only way to process this.

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