Page 167 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

“We are. And I love her so much that I almost feel scared.”

His brows raise. “Afraid of what?”

I hold up the stick, and he eyes it carefully. “This. I love her so much,

but I don’t know the first thing about this.”

“You don’t have to worry about it. Leah is going to make a wonderful

mother. She’s so caring and selfless. She never really talked about

having kids before, but that was before she met you and everything

else happened. I guess I shouldn’t talk about her and me anymore.

It’s just weird. She’s getting married and having someone else’s

child.”

“Imagine how she felt when you came by to tell her you and Farrah

were engaged.”

He bows his head in defeat. “I feel horrible. I have for hours. And

besides, I sobered up an hour ago and realized what that damn

willow tree meant to her. I shouldn’t have come out this way. I

shouldn’t have taken that from her.”

“It’s okay,” I say.

“No, it’s really not.”

“I know that, but I’m trying to make you feel better.”

He bites back a laugh, and we trade a knowing look. I may have seen

Ryan Jones as a dickhead in the past—and I’ve thought about

walking up to his porch a few times to give him a flustered, furious

piece of my mind—but it’s not like I’ve ever considered doing that

past the blip of my daydreams.

“Well, do you think you could give me a ride?”

I nod, my keys on the kitchen island. “Yeah. Let’s just be quick and

quiet getting out of here. She needs some sleep. She was in shock last

night. I’m surprised she fell back asleep.”

“Yeah, I still feel bad about that,” he mutters.

We walk outside, the sun just halfway over the horizon. Climbing

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