Chapter 11 #2
“And one to go,” I added before she walked away.
Nox stared at me for a long second before giving his head a slow shake and uttering a low laugh. I didn’t need to ask why he was laughing. Just like he didn’t need to ask who the third piece of cobbler was for.
“And you wonder why I don’t feel bad for you, old sport,” he finally spoke again after dessert was brought to our table. “Beating on, boat against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”
“You have the whole book memorized?” I muttered and stabbed my fork into the cobbler.
“You forget how the story ends?” he countered.
I took a bite and then replied, “I’m not Gatsby, and this isn’t a tragedy.” Though I was already imagining the sounds Daisy would make when she tasted this. And how uncomfortable my pants would be. I was already hard from the fantasy.
Nox scoffed, but without malice. “What else do you call wanting something that you can’t have?”
Problem solved.
I stared at the takeaway container in my hands. I shouldn’t have ordered it. I should just take it back to the house for Dad. Or Harper. Hell, I should just throw it away and forget the six bucks and the whole idea. Instead, I watched myself tap on Daisy’s name on my phone.
I didn’t like how we left things earlier. How all she wanted to do was get back to work and pretend like she wasn’t worried and hurting, and how I’d gone along with it. I wanted to find a way to fix it—needed to find a way, really. And this blueberry cobbler was my ticket in the door.
“Hi, you’ve reached Daisy Turner. I’m sorry I missed your call…”
I pulled my phone back and looked at the screen. Why did it go straight to voicemail? Weird. Probably a fluke. I ended the call and then tapped on her name again.
“Hi, you’ve reached Daisy Turner—”
“What the hell…” My jaw locked as I opened up our text thread and tapped out a message.
Hey, are you okay?
Sending…Sending…Message cannot be delivered.
Ice-cold dread dripped into my veins. Something was wrong. Not answering was one thing, but not even ringing? Unable to deliver the message?
I hit the gas and ignored every speed limit to get back to Stonebar—to get back to her.
What if something happened?
If she fell?
What if Todd came back and was drunk—No. Todd might be a spoiled, thoughtless sap, but he wasn’t violent. He wouldn’t hurt her. But what if someone else…
My mind raced through scenario after scenario, chewing up the miles to the apartment and not even bothering to check my rear view for flashing lights.
Thankfully, Aria’s brother was on the Stonebar police force, so if one of them did pull me over, he’d be able to get me out of the ticket.
Not that it mattered. I’d happily take a suspended license if it meant making sure Daisy was safe.
My truck tires screeched to a stop outside the shop. It looked just as locked up as I’d left it a few hours earlier, and I wished that did something to ease my chest that felt ready to split open.
“Daisy?” I called even before I’d reached the Murphy door to the apartment. I took the stairs two at a time and then pounded on the door. “Daisy?”
Later, I’d realized it was the blood thundering in my ears that prevented me from hearing her.
I punched in the code for the lock and shoved through the door. “Daisy? Are you—”
“Max?”
I stopped at the sight of her standing at the bottom of the spiral steps, whole and healthy. And her eyes red-rimmed from crying.
“Max, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” She sniffled and pretended to look out the window with the hope I wouldn’t see her lift the back of her hand to her cheek to wipe her tears.
My jaw clamped tight, and my eyes did a pass over the whole of her, needing to double—triple—confirm she was okay.
One swipe of my stare down her body, and I knew she was fine. I, on the other hand, was not.
She had on another one of my tees from one of the open boxes.
It was big enough to be a dress and would’ve fallen to the tops of her knees if not for her belly.
It didn’t lift the hem much, but it was enough.
Enough to make my lungs seize and my dick harden.
Enough to swallow up the guilt I should feel for being glad she was here.
For being glad Todd left her. For wanting her like she and her baby were mine.
I made the mistake of telling her they were just some extra shirts that had ended up here by accident.
I didn’t want her to feel bad for wearing them, and the fib worked too well.
She didn’t feel guilty for wearing them, but I did.
I felt guilty for lying to her. And for thinking that nothing had ever looked more right than Daisy wearing one of my shirts.
“Max?” Her tremulous voice snapped me from my trance as she came to stand right in front of me. Right where I could see the fabric rise and dip over her breasts. Her nipples. Where it bowed out over her stomach and fluttered in front of her thighs.
I balled my fist to hide how my fingers itched to reach for the hem and explained, “Your phone went straight to voicemail, and my message wouldn’t go through…I was worried.”
Her lips rounded, and my cock twitched. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and nodded, reaching for the bowl of rice I just noticed on the counter.
She took two steps closer and extended her arm. Inside the bowl of rice was her cell phone.
“I dropped it in the bathtub,” she murmured, a strained laugh pushing from her chest. She set it back on the counter and added, “Part of me hopes it doesn’t make it.”
“Daze—”
“What were you calling about?” She bundled her arms over her chest, the stance highlighting the growing swell of her stomach…and lifting the shirt higher on her thighs.
Lust bolted into my veins…from a bared inch of her leg. God, I should’ve spent the last six months dating instead of wallowing.
“Dessert,” I choked out. “I’ll be right back.” In the span of minutes, I went back to my truck, grabbed the takeout container from the front seat, and returned to the apartment. “Figured you might like some blueberry cobbler,” I offered her the treat.
To my surprise, she just stared at the container but made no move to take it.
“Daze?” I rasped.
She spun and walked to the window, her head swaying slowly in the low light.
“Daisy.” I slid the container onto the kitchen counter and went to her. I wanted to pull her into my arms again like the other night, but I stopped myself, instead placing my hand gently on her arm. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders shook with a restrained sob, but she didn’t pull away from my touch.
“I’m fine,” came her hollow defense.
“Tell me you’re fine one more time, and your nose will be long enough to poke me in the chest, Pinocchio.”
That earned me a weak smile and finally, a white flag of surrender. “Everything’s wrong, Max,” she said defeatedly. “Everything but you.”
My heart rocketed into my ribs. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help, and I keep being horrible about it.”
“Daisy,” I groaned, the sound coming straight from my heart, cracking. I tried to turn her toward me, but she refused to budge. “You’re not being horrible.” She shot me a sideways stare. “All right, maybe just a little stubborn.”
She blew out a shaky breath, but it didn’t seem to lessen any of the tension in her body.
“What’s going on, Daze?” I asked, keeping my voice soft and low.
“Is this about the insurance? Because we’ll figure it out…
” I trailed off when she started to shake her head, her balled fist resting in front of her mouth.
“Then what is it?” Tightening my grip, I tried to turn her again, and this time she let me. “You can talk to me.”
I wasn’t going to let her get away with pushing me away again. I let it happen earlier, and it clearly hadn’t helped.
“Can I?” she murmured, her eyes welling up with tears again.
“Of course you can—”
“Do you think I trapped Todd into marrying me?” She blurted out.
“What? What are you talking about?” I couldn’t decide if I was more shocked or hurt or angry at her question. “Why the hell would you think—”
“Because you’ve been MIA for the past six months, and Todd said it was because of work, but I can’t help but think it was because you knew we were having problems, and then I got pregnant, and you thought it was to force Todd to stay with me, which I never would’ve done—”
“Daisy,” I growled and stepped closer, holding her arms with both hands now. Her bottom lip trembled as she tipped her head to look at me. I groaned, the urge to kiss her hitting me like a freight train. “I don’t think you trapped Todd into marrying you.”
I think you were trapped into marrying him was what I wanted to say—was what I felt.
“Promise?” Her lashes fluttered, but not quickly enough to catch every tear.
“I promise,” I murmured and lifted my hand to swipe away the droplet with my thumb, a trail of pink dusting her skin in its wake.
Her gaze dipped like she had a hard time believing me, and I realized this had to be coming from somewhere else.
“Why would I think that, Daze? Why would anyone think that?”
Her throat bobbed, but when she tried to look away, I wouldn’t let her.
“Because apparently that’s what Todd’s parents think.”
“What?” I demanded with enough of a snarl to make her eyes widen. “Did you talk to them?”
“No, but Mrs. McCormick left me a voicemail.” She shuddered. “I was running the bath when I realized I’d missed her call. I thought maybe she’d heard from Todd, but when I listened…”
Now all the pieces clicked together. The broken phone. Her crying eyes. The root of her question.
“She called to accuse you of trapping Todd into marriage?” Why now? Todd had been gone for two weeks. Why wait to be a heartless bitch?
“She called to yell at me for canceling the doctor’s appointment, saying I was trying to bully Todd to come back by harming his baby and that this was just what she should’ve expected from me since I trapped her son into marriage.”