Page 52 of Snowed In with My Best Friend's Dad

I wasn't sure how long I sat there, but I crawled over to the window, peeking through the curtain, and saw that he was no longer on the doorstep. I stood on shaky legs and went through the house, making sure all the doors and windows were locked. He never made any move to suggest he could be violent, and Lindsay never mentioned he'd ever been violent, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

I made my way back to my room, cleaning up my books, notepads, and laptop off my bed, setting them on my desk. There wouldn't be any more studying tonight.

I took a shower because Brett's words clung to me, making me feel dirty. I put on another pair of leggings and a T-shirt and climbed under the covers, hoping that when I slept, everything about Brett would disappear.

I was so tired and emotionally wrought that sleep came quickly. But with it came the nightmare. I was back at the front door, and every rotten thing Brett had ever said to me he was repeating. Each awful comment or accusation was like a punch in the gut until all I could feel was my stomach cramping and burning.

"You think you pulled one on me, don’t you? But I'm going to teach you a lesson, Miranda. Because when that baby is born, it will be mine. I will use all my resources, every power I have within me to keep you from seeing your baby."

I woke up with a start, sitting up, panting, and crying. My stomach cramped hard again, and I realized that it hadn't just been a dream. This time, the terror that filled me had to do with the baby.

I flung the covers off and padded my way to the bathroom. When I saw blood on my leggings, I cried out, "Dad! Dad, help me."

I wasn't even sure that he was home. I didn't know what time it was. But I heard him running down the hall, sliding into the doorway. "What’s wrong, baby?"

I looked up at him, feeling sadder than I could ever remember feeling. It was as sad as I felt when my mother died. "I think there's something wrong with the baby."

"I'll call an ambulance."

"Maybe you should drive me. We can't afford an ambulance."

"Now is not the time to be worrying about that, Miranda." He rushed away from the door, and with him gone, loneliness and emptiness filled me. Somehow, I managed to pull myself back together, getting up and slipping on shoes and a coat as I waited for an ambulance.

I looked at my father, and his expression was as stricken as I felt. I could only imagine that he was reliving losing my mother.

He reached out and pulled me in for a hug. "I’m not going to let anything happen to you or your baby. You hear me, Miranda? You and the baby are going to be fine." It was as if he was trying to will that into the world. It was a promise I knew he had no control over. But being afraid, I latched onto it, wanting to believe that my father could make everything right.

When the ambulance came, it was a whirlwind of activity. I was poked and prodded and asked what I was feeling and what happened. Soon, I was in the back of an ambulance. My father rode with me, grilling the paramedics on my status.

We finally arrived at the hospital, and they started to wheel me down the hall.

"I'm going to call your friend Lindsay," my dad called after me.

"No, Dad, don't do that." God. That was the last thing I needed.

"You should have a female friend with you since you don't have your mom."

It was such a sweet thought, but I didn’t want her here. Unfortunately, my father disappeared from my view as they rolled me into a room.

Again, hospital staff busied themselves with tests and questions.

"Your blood pressure is a little bit high," the nurse said as she removed the cuff that I hadn't even realized was on my arm. But of course, my blood pressure was high. Brett was ballistic on my porch, wondering if he was the father of my baby. In my dream, he threatened to take my child. What was going to happen when he learned something was wrong? In what sort of crazy, twisted way would he decide that I had ruined his life if I lost the baby?

19

Brett

An incessant buzzing pulled me from an unconscious stupor. As I began to wake, I realized I was face down in my bed, with a jackhammer rumbling in my brain and sandpaper in my mouth. I moaned as I groped around in the dark for my phone, realizing that was the source of the buzzing.

I wrapped my fingers around it, pulling it toward me, opening my eyes just enough to note that it was three thirty in the morning and the caller was Lindsay. In an instant, I was alert, nearly sober.

I poked the answer button. "Lindsay. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry to call you so early, Dad, but it's important. An emergency."

I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I shot to my feet looking for my clothes until I realized I was still fully dressed in my tux.

"What's wrong?" I staggered out of my bedroom, noting that while I was mentally understanding what was going on, I wasn't yet ready to drive. I'd have to order a car to get to wherever Lindsay needed me.

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