22. Austin
22
AUSTIN
S he’s been up there for a while now, and I’m starting to worry.
I’ve already loaded everything into my truck. I figured she would’ve come out by now.
I want to tell her goodbye before I leave.
I lock the front door so nobody can walk in and catch us off-guard, then walk up the steps and into the master bedroom.
The bathroom door is closed, so I tap my knuckles against the wood. “Kay, you okay?” I ask through the door.
I hear the clicking of her unlocking the door before it’s pulled open.
She looks nervous, upset, and confused. Before I can ask what’s wrong, she holds up a white stick.
“I’m pregnant.”
The world stops spinning, and I’m frozen, unable to do anything but listen to the never-ending string of curse words and worries in my head.
“Austin, did you hear me? I’m pregnant.”
I turn away.
I can’t think when she’s looking at me like that.
How the fuck can she be pregnant?
I told her when this started that we couldn’t do this.
Her family can’t know that we’re together, which will make raising a kid a little hard.
Not only that, but I never wanted this.
I never wanted kids.
That’s why I’ve gone forty-six years without having one.
Who has a kid when they’re almost fifty years old?
I can’t do this right now. I can’t talk to her.
I need to get away, think, calm down, and get my temper in check.
I start out the bedroom door and move down the steps, but she follows me.
“Austin, where are you going?” she asks, taking every step just as quickly as I do.
I’m almost to the door when she grabs my arm and spins me around. “Would you stop and talk to me?”
“How the fuck did this happen?” I ask a little too loudly.
She flinches at my tone, but this is her fault.
I was trying to leave to keep from letting my anger out. She’s the one who’s making me stay. “Like, how are babies made? Or…”
“Don’t be a smart ass right now, Kaylee. You said you were on birth control. I asked, probably later than I should have given we’d already been fucking our brains out, but I asked, and you told me you had it under control. This is not having it under control, Kaylee.”
“Would you stop saying my name like that?”
I sigh and shake my head. “Like what?” I spit.
“Like it’s a curse word. You always call me Kay, not Kaylee. And this isn’t my fault. I am on birth control. It must have failed, or this test is wrong.”
An ounce of hope creeps in.
“But the test can’t be wrong, because I’m late.”
That hope is now crushed. “I can’t fucking do this right now. I have to go.” I turn and reach for the door.
“Wait.”
I freeze with one hand on the knob and the other on the deadbolt, ready to unlock it.
“You’ll come back, right? After you calm down? We have to talk about this.”
She steps up to my side and even though I don’t turn to look at her, I can see her eyes welling with tears. “I can’t do this alone, Austin. You’ll come back, right?”
It feels like someone reached into my chest, ripped out my heart, and then smashed it against the wall.
My jaw flexes and anger causes my stomach to boil, making acid bubble up my throat.
“I don’t know,” I say, getting the door open as fast as I can before marching to my truck and climbing behind the wheel.
I don’t look back as I drive away from her as fast as I can.
I drive in a daze.
The guys are already at the next house we’re supposed to be working on when I arrive.
They help me carry my tools and things into the empty house that we’re doing a total remodel on.
They try talking to me, but nothing makes sense.
After their questions go unanswered, they give up.
After my truck is empty, I climb back behind the wheel and drive home.
I park in the driveway and let myself in. Kay has been staying here a lot lately, and she’s transformed my home.
It no longer smells like the air freshener I constantly sprayed so I didn’t have to do a deep cleaning.
Now when I walk in, it smells clean and fresh. I can even smell a hint of the perfume she uses each morning.
I kick off my boots, bending over to pick them up and put them neatly in the entryway closet rather than leaving them on the floor for someone to trip over.
Then I stop.
What am I doing?
This is my house, not hers.
I toss the boots back onto the floor and move to the kitchen, where I open the freezer and pull out the bottle of whiskey.
I uncap the bottle and take a swig, my eyes taking in the kitchen.
I always leave clean dishes in the dish drainer by the sink, but it’s empty because she puts them away.
The counters are usually covered in dirty dishes, mail, or empty food boxes. Now, they’re empty and wiped clean.
She even got the stain off the countertop where I got a little too careless making Kool-Aid one day.
The trashcan isn’t overflowing because she asked me to take it out last night.
I move into the bedroom with the bottle still in my hand.
I freeze when I walk in because my bed is made.
The top of the dresser is cleared of everything but a small stack of her clothes that she was going to take to her house today.
My hand tightens on the neck of the bottle as I move into the bathroom.
I set the bottle on the counter and reach into the shower to turn on the water.
I pull my shirt over my head and toss it into the empty hamper.
She’s kept the laundry baskets empty, doing a load or two of laundry every couple of days in comparison to my one load a week.
My attention goes to the vanity, where I find her toothbrush, deodorant, a bottle of perfume, lotion, and a small bag of cosmetics.
How has she taken over my life like this?
And how did I not notice until now?
I remove my clothes and step into the shower.
I wash off the day, feeling broken and unsure of the future.
I’ve never felt this way.
I knew what I’d be doing every day.
I never questioned where I’d be in the future because I knew I’d be here, working during the day and alone at night, just the way I wanted it.
That’s gone now.
The comfort of knowing has been taken away from me. Or I guess I should say that I gave it away.
I should have been more careful.
All this time, my only concern has been getting caught with her. I never once considered that something like this could happen.
I get out of the shower when the water runs cold.
I dry and grab the bottle of whiskey that I left sitting on the vanity.
Tying a towel around my waist, I take a sip of the warm, amber liquid.
The alcohol numbs my throat and warms my chest. I welcome the numbness because if I’m numb, I can’t feel, and I don’t want to feel right now.
I fall into the recliner in the living room, taking sip after sip, not understanding how whiskey can take away everything but the emotional pain I feel.
I don’t like this, and I don’t know how to fix it. I want to hold her in my arms and smell her as she melts against me. I want to see her bright blue eyes looking at me as I thrust into her, making us feel nothing but pleasure. I want to hear her heavy breaths, moans, and whimpers. I want to feel her nails scratch down my back and the way she laces her fingers into my hair.
A growl rips from my lips as I tip the bottle back again and again. I’ve fucked everything up.
I’m going to have a child.
A child who will probably be just as messed up as I am because I’m making the same mistakes my father made.
Anger swells in my chest, and I push myself up.
In the bedroom, I pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
I slide my feet into my boots and grab my keys. I lock the house behind me, but as I stumble toward my truck, I realize that I can’t drive.
I wave my hand through the air, walking around my truck and to the sidewalk.
The sun has gone down, and our small little town is quiet.
Even though it’s not late, all the curtains are closed in the houses I pass, so I probably won’t even be noticed walking to her place.
As I sway on the sidewalk, I realize I still have the bottle in my hand, so I bring it to my lips and take a sip.
The walk is short, and I’m spaced out the entire time.
I don’t snap out of my worries until I’m knocking on her door. It’s dark. The curtains over the windows are closed, and the porch light is off.
I knock again and again before the door opens.
There she is, standing before me, wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top.
When she sees me, her nipples pebble beneath the thin cotton.
I lose control the moment our eyes meet. I push forward, collecting her mouth with mine as I step inside.
I spin her around, pressing her back against the door so it closes behind us.
My hand moves over to the deadbolt, locking it as I kiss her.
Fuck, it’s only been a couple of hours.
How could I have missed her this much?
I pull her head back until our kiss breaks, and I’m about to trail my lips down her jaw to her neck.
“What are you doing here, Austin?”
That makes me lean back, even though it nearly kills me to not have my mouth on her body.
I release her hair. “I missed you,” I confess, the word coming out quickly and a little slurred.
She shakes her head and crosses her arms. “You left. You walked out.”
“I know.” My head falls forward, resting against hers.
My empty hand finds her hip, and I squeeze. “I’m fucked up, Kay. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to fix this. All I know is that I missed you. I had to touch you again, taste you, smell you.”
I lull my head to the side, so my nose is buried in the hair around her ear. I inhale her deeply. “Fuck, I love the way you smell.”
“Give me the bottle and you can stay tonight.”
Her hand moves to cover the hand that’s wrapped around the whiskey, and I release it instantly.
She places it on the table by the door and then wraps her hand around my wrist and leads me to her bedroom.