Chapter 53
CHAPTER 53
BETH
“A re you feeling alright?” Judy asks as we sit in the living room at the Bastard house, and I pull the bottle of Pepto Bismol out of my bag. I pop off the lid as I slowly nod.
“Yeah. I’ve just been dealing with some stomach issues. I think it might be the stress of my mom coming home. Nigel has been adamant that he doesn’t want me moving back in with my mom, which puts me on edge. She’ll get out of rehab in two weeks and she’ll want me to move back in,” I explain before taking a sip straight from the bottle. I’ve been having to do this once every couple of hours for days, and I’m getting sick of it. I’m not ill, but my stomach is miserable.
“Are you sure that’s it?” she asks timidly, avoiding my eyes.
“What do you mean? What else could it be?”
“I mean, maybe…” she trails off, her eyes falling to my stomach for a bit longer than is comfortable.
It clicks in my head what she is referring to without outright saying it. The walls are very thin in this house, and these men gossip just as bad as a couple of biddies.
“Ohhh. No, that’s very doubtful. I just had my period last week, and I haven’t puked. It’s just indigestion. I’ll feel better tomorrow. Promise.”
Even as I say the words, I gnaw on my tongue. There is no way I’m pregnant, but I know it’s not too far off. That’s something that scares the fuck out of me. I love Nigel…I really do, but I don’t want to have a baby with him. Bringing a baby into this would be an accident waiting to happen.
It is more than indigestion, though. I’ve had the worst headache in history. I’m ready to claw my eyes out if it doesn’t stop.
Judy presses her hand to mine, clutching the medicine bottle. “Just…promise me you’ll take a test to be on the safe side. Anytime I get sick, I always take a test.”
I nod with a small smile. “No problem. I can do that.”
My eyes fly down to my watch, checking to make sure we won’t be late. “We need to get going to school.” Standing up, I grab my backpack and throw it over my shoulder.
“How has Aimee been doing?” Judy presses, and I groan.
“No clue. She’s cut all communication with me. She’s butthurt over the Ollie situation. Did she seriously think he was going to be a monk for the past ten years?” I roll my eyes as Judy and I leave the house, heading for the truck Nigel insisted on giving me so I could have a safe vehicle to transport me to and from school.
I have just as much of a reason to be nasty to her, but Aimee hasn’t received any ire from me.
“Maybe she did. She came across to me as a bit immature. It’s hard to believe she’s older than us.”
“Well, she’s important to people who are important to me, so I have to tolerate her and her glares.”
As we climb into the truck, Judy gives me a puzzled look, tilting her head as if she’s trying to figure out some mystery. She doesn’t press or anything like that.
“Did you ever pick up your Sociology textbook from your mom’s place?” she asks.
I curse under my breath. Usually, we don’t need it, but on Friday, Mr. Curtis warned us that we would need it on Monday, and that’s today.
Fuck my life straight to hell with a sandpaper condom and no lubrication.
“It’s okay. We can just stop at the house on the way to school. I need to pick up my car anyway.”
Judy spent the night with Ronan last night under the ruse that we were having a girl’s night at Arely’s house, and I picked her up since her dad was doing an oil change on her car.
“Sounds good.”
We listen to Kelly Clarkson’s latest song, Miss Independent , and move along to the catchy beat as we drive the two blocks to our houses, but there’s one odd thing that catches my attention.
Oliver’s black Mustang is in the driveway.
“What’s Oliver doing here?” Judy asks, looking just as perplexed as I do while she grabs her bag.
“Probably just checking in on Aimee. They used to be pretty close.” I still have no clue how close they were or what has transitioned to the present time.
I have suspicions but no confirmations.
She shrugs and doesn’t think much of it, but my spidey senses tingle as I climb out of the truck. The fear is creeping in because I have a feeling I know exactly why Oliver is here, and deep down, I don’t want it to be true.
I shouldn’t have any expectations of him. We’ve talked about this. Though we have something going on, I’m not his and he’s not mine. We have no claim over each other.
Not until either Nigel decides he’s done with me or he breaks one of the rules.
Only then will things change.
My heart rate picks up as I hurry over to the door. I need to get this over with. So what if Ollie came to see Aimee? She’s obviously still nuts about him, and he’s made it clear the feeling is mutual.
Throwing open the door, I instantly hear it, and the strong woman facade I always build up drops to the floor and crumbles. Her moans cut me to the bone as I step inside, tears filling my eyes.
All I needed to do was take two steps in the door to grab my textbook off the entry table, but with one step, I see them…on the kitchen table. Well, Aimee is naked on the table, and Ollie…he’s fucking her, lost in his head.
My tears fall, and I know I have no right to be upset or angry. Nigel and I fuck all the time, and Oliver knows that, but he’s never seen it. Standing here, watching this, is destroying the muscle in my chest, but I can’t look away. My heart feels like it's a betrayal, and that’s valid simply because I can’t control how I feel.
I’m close to breaking down when Oliver must sense me because his head snaps up, and his eyes meet mine, icy blue clashing with my fairy green irises, tears clouding my vision.
“Beth!” Oliver exclaims, and the curse breaks, letting me look away from him, but before I have the chance to run, I see Aimee’s face.
She’s clearly pissed that not only I’m in my house but that I walked in on them.
“I—Sorry.” My voice breaks, and I snatch my book off the entry table and race out the door.
“Beth, wait!”
“Leave her be. We were busy, and she interrupted.”
“Fuck off!”
I jog down the driveway, past Oliver’s car, and right to the truck as a sob falls from my lips. God, I hate this. I don’t want to feel like I’ve just been cheated on, but I can’t help it. Maybe it wouldn’t feel like this if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. If I knew it happened but didn’t witness it…it might not be like a serrated blade slicing open my stomach.
I throw the book on the bench seat, put the key in the ignition, and turn it. The truck roars to life. In the same second as Oliver runs out of the house, I throw the truck in reverse and speed away. I struggle to keep the vehicle straight as I cry.
Even as I leave, it enters my mind that I shouldn’t be driving in my current condition. This is exactly how my dad died. He was freaked out and driving erratically.
My heart pounds, and my lungs scream that something isn’t right, but I don’t stop. Instead, I turn onto the main road and reach the bridge right before the school, where the road becomes two lanes.
My heart stops as I come to the top of the bridge, and the bumps of the median register a moment before I see the slate gray car doing the same less than a second before the crash. My eyes connect with the oceanic eyes of the driver.
Martin?
No…
I get a flash of him being just as freaked out by the collision as I am before my head slams into the steering wheel. My truck starts to spin out and I can’t keep track of where it goes. All I know is the only thing that clears up my pain from earlier is the panic.
My mind flashes to what could’ve happened to my dad when he had his accident. Was he screaming, crying, praying that he got to see me or my mom one last time?
I cry right before another impact happens, and my head slams into the window, shattering instantly.