Page 3 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Without a word, I turn on my heel, forcing my legs to move and walk the short distance to Peanut’s room.

“Hey, Ms. Walker,” the same nurse greets me.

Sarah, I think?

Honestly, I’ve dealt with so many it’s all a blur.

“Hi,” I return. “This is Milo.”

“Nice to meet you,” she offers carefully, my little bundle pressed to her chest.

He grunts, barely acknowledging her. He’s too busy staring at Peanut in her arms. Like he’s seen a ghost. Or an angel. Or, hell, maybe an alien. Regardless, he’s quiet, and it’s making things awkward.

Sarah’s attention shifts back to me, and she lifts her brows, silently asking if I’m all right.

“We’re good,” I lie when it’s the furthest thing from the truth. I mean, yes, we’re fine physically. Milo would never hurt me, and he sure as hell would never touch an innocent child in anger. But emotionally? A very different story. He wrecked me beyond repair. And now he’shere. Looking at the baby in the nurse’s arms who may or may not belong to him. Though I’m too terrified to find out.

Sarah’s expression softens as she looks back at Milo with a less guarded, more open smile. “Okay. And you both already washed your hands?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“Perfect. Let me hand her back to you. I’m going to give a few other babies some lovin’. If you need anything, you know the drill.”

I take Peanut from Sarah, organizing her nasal tube carefully over one arm so it doesn’t tug or pull at an awkward angle and hurt her. We both settle into a small rocking chair in the corner of the room. Machines are littered throughout the small space, but the room feels even tinier with Milo’s massive presence sucking all the energy, all the oxygen, from it.

And I don’t know what to do. What to say. How to act. I’m flying blind here. But I’ve been doing it the same way my whole life.

The pink blanket looks like it’s swallowing Peanut whole, so I fuss with the soft material, trying to appear busy and unaffected by a certain someone when in reality, I’m still freaking out.

I can feel him watching me. Studying me. Analyzing me. Analyzing Peanut. Analyzing the entire situation. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s probably trying to figure out how to get out of this without having to pay child support.

Which isn’t fair. Because even though he said he wanted nothing to do with me when we ended things, Milo’s here.

Why are you here?

My skin feels itchy, and my breathing feels forced as I look up at him, praying he won’t see past the barriers I’ve spent my entire life building around myself. Yet, they’re the same ones he managed to catapult past the first time we met before he ruined me and left me all alone. On my own. With a baby in my belly and a broken heart never to be healed.

“This is her,” I murmur.

His boots scuff against the floor again as he shifts closer to us, looking down at Peanut.

“What’s her name?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He scoffs. “Of course, you haven’t.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, looking up at him again. The guy’s tall. Around six-foot-two. He always had a way of making me feel small. Delicate. Precious. But right now, I feel like I’m seconds from being squashed under his boot.

“You’ve always been indecisive,” he spits, hinting at one of our last conversations when everything fell apart.

I grit my teeth and glare back at him. “Iwasdecisive, remember?”

“Like when you were sleeping with meandSonny, ‘cause you couldn’t decide who you wanted more?”

My jaw drops. “You’re the one who wanted me to sleep with youandyour best friend in the first place. You approached me––”

“Bullshit. You were flirting with him all night––”

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