8. Collins
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLLINS
“I don’t know about you,” Roman says, pulling the rig in, “but it feels like tonight went by at a snail’s pace.” He turns it off and looks over at me. “I’m off the next two nights, and I can’t wait.”
“Lucky,” I mumble to him, grabbing my phone out of the cupholder and opening the door. “I picked up two more shifts this week. Janice’s kid has some baseball tournament, and she wants to take him. But in two weeks I’m off for four days.”
“You’re crazy,” he tells me. “You’ve already picked up five extra shifts this month.”
I don’t tell him I know this, and I’m doing it so I can afford to buy my kid a crib and some clothes. A baby was not in my budget plans at all. I could barely get the extra money together to buy a secondhand washer and dryer.
I get off the rig and head toward the stairs, going straight for the locker room.
I grab the clothes I wore today from my locker and head for the bathroom to change.
It takes me a full five minutes to change, and when I step out, Roman is already done.
The next shifts are all lined up in the changing area, chatting.
I put my uniform in my bag before slamming my locker closed.
“Have a good night,” I mumble to them and get a couple of goodbyes as I head outside.
The warm breeze makes my shorts fly around my legs, and I’m almost to my car when the door opens and Hudson calls my name. I look over my shoulder at him. He’s walking to me with a white box from the bakery in his hand. “I was hoping I would see you before you left.”
“Sorry,” I say. “What’s up?”
“Brock Casey came by when you were out,” he replies. “Left this for you. I was under strict orders from Scooter to make sure you got it.”
I shake my head as my pulse starts to race. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Brock Casey,” he repeats, “came by and said you forgot this when you went over before shift.” He extends the box to me. My hands reflexively come up to take it.
“Thank you,” I say, and he chuckles.
“I had to guard that with my life.” He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to answer whose box was in the fridge during my shift. Even though she sent a box for us as well.”
I laugh, knowing the boys must have been salivating for what was in this box. “I owe you, I guess.”
“Never.” He puts his hands in his pants pockets. “I’ll see you later. I heard you’re taking Janice’s shift.”
“Yeah, she has a family thing.” Guilt rips through me. Eventually, I’m going to have to tell him I’m pregnant. He’s the second-in-command, and from what we’ve been hearing, Scooter is set to retire, and Hudson is in line to take his job. But that is a problem for another day.
“I heard.” I know he’s waiting to say something else, but then he just nods at me, turning and heading back inside.
“Great,” I mutter as I get in my car and put the white box on the seat beside me.
“He probably heard I was having coffee with your father,” I tell the baby, starting the car and opening the windows.
“I can just imagine the gossip that was burning up the phone lines tonight. Imagine the stories that are going to come out when they find out about you.” I put my hand to my stomach as I drive home.
“I’m going to bet you a hundred dollars people are going to think I did it on purpose to trap him.
” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “But we both know the truth, and it’ll be our truth no matter what.
” I pull up to my house and get out, grabbing my bag and the box.
The heat of the day lingers in the whole house. It’s so thick that I have no choice but to open some windows. The breeze is almost nonexistent. My body aches with exhaustion as I head to the shower, pulling the elastic out of my hair before stepping into the cool water.
I linger in the shower a little bit longer than I should, and when I get out, I’m starving.
I put on a pair of shorts and a tank top before heading into the kitchen.
Pulling open the fridge, I find a couple of plates of leftovers from two days ago.
I put the one that has chicken and rice in the microwave before opening the white box.
I gasp when I find so many sweet treats that it’s not even funny.
It has double, if not triple, what was on the table.
I take a bite of one of the lemon squares, and the tartness hits the corner of my jaw at the same time someone knocks at the door.
My head whips around. At the same time, my body decides that lemon is not what it needs or wants.
I don’t even have a chance to make it to the bathroom.
Instead, I hurl over the garbage bin. Up comes the lemon tart, followed by the protein bar I ate between calls tonight.
The knocking grows louder. I look over to see the door opening, and then he steps in.
“Theo?” I ask. Maybe I’m delirious from throwing up.
He makes the five steps to my side. “Oh my god, are you sick?”
“No. What would make you say that? Would it be me barfing in the garbage, or would it be me barfing in the garbage?” He glares at me. “Who just lets themselves into someone’s house without being invited in?” I walk over to the sink and turn on the water to rinse my mouth.
“I thought I heard ‘Come in,’” he answers.
“That was me heaving.” The microwave beeps, telling me the food is ready, and I hold up my hand. “I need to brush my teeth.” I turn to walk to the bathroom. “Don’t follow me.”
“I wasn’t going to.” I give him a once-over and see that he’s wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
It sucks like hell that he looks just as good as he did that first night I saw him.
I grab my toothbrush and squeeze toothpaste on it.
“Your father’s here,” I whisper as I wet my toothbrush and put it in my mouth.
“I’m going to need you to be on your best behavior so he knows I can do this, even if he doesn’t want me to.
” I brush my teeth and then rinse my mouth.
“I expect you to help me out here a little.”
I turn and walk back out of the bathroom and see him opening the bottom cupboard under the sink. “What are you doing?” I ask. He looks over at me. I notice his beard has grown in more.
“I took out the trash that you got sick in.” He grabs a black garbage bag and shakes it out before putting it in the bin. “Figured you didn’t want it to be sitting there.”
“Um,” I’m unsure of what to say. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.”
“What are you doing here?” I cross my arms over my chest. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“Yeah.” He goes back to the sink to wash his hands. “I knew you finished at 3:00 a.m., so I went to bed early and set my alarm.”
I blink once, twice, maybe a hundred times before I say, “You set your alarm to come to my house in the middle of the night?”
“Well, it was either come here”—he shakes the water from his hands—“or show up at your work.” I balk. “I figured it would be an easier conversation to have without your coworkers listening in.”
“Well, you’re right about that.” I walk to the microwave and open it.
“Sorry, but I missed dinner, and all I had was a protein bar, so I’m starving.
” He’s looking at the wooden table with six chairs.
The table has seen better days, but a good sanding and a beautiful varnish would make it brand-new.
It’s on my list of things to do, but the list is always getting longer and longer.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asks as if I’m the guest in his house and not the other way around.
“I was going to have water.” He looks at me. “There’s a pitcher in the fridge.”
He walks over to grab the pitcher as I sit and start to eat a piece of chicken.
I’m hyperaware that he’s here, and I’m pretty sure he’s judging fucking everything.
He opens one cupboard, probably looking for a glass.
“They’re in that one.” I point with my fork to the cabinet beside the sink.
He grabs a glass and comes back to the table, putting it down and filling it with water.
“It’s a hundred degrees in here.” He pulls out a chair and sits down.
“Yeah, it’ll cool down soon. I should have passed by on my shift and opened the windows to get a good breeze going, but . . .” I take another bite of chicken. “Theo,” I ask when I swallow, “what are you doing here, for real?”
“Collins,” he says, putting one of his hands on the table while he drapes his other arm across the chair beside him, “I think we need to talk, don’t you?”
“I mean,” I take another bite, “I pretty much said what I needed to say today.”
“You would be wrong there. There is a lot to talk about.”
“Might as well get it over with,” I mumble. Suddenly, I’m not hungry, but I know I have to eat. I make myself take another bite of the chicken.
“When did you find out you were pregnant?”
“Three weeks ago. Woke up one day and got my period, or what I thought was my period, but it was just spotting for two days and then nothing.” I shrug.
“I figured it was stress. But then”—I close my eyes—“God, this is embarrassing.” Instead of letting me off the hook, he waits for me to finish. “My nipples hurt, okay? Like so bad.”
“So you weren’t on birth control?”
“I never said I was.” My voice is tight. He holds up a hand.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. We used protection. I just was wondering if you were also on birth control.”
“I was not.” I push my food around in the container. “There was no reason for me to be.”
“Right.”
My back goes straight up. “I don’t know what you mean by that,” I snap at him. “But I’m not who everyone says I am.” I push away from the table, and his arm drops from the chair beside him. “And before you ask, I’m not getting rid of the baby.”
“I would never tell you what to do with your body, Collins,” he says, his voice soft. “Just like I would never assume anything about you. We had sex. Protected. But things happen.”
“They do,” I agree.
“Sit down and eat.” He motions with his chin. “You said you were starving, and you only took five bites of your food.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not hungry anymore.” I turn and put the top back on the container. “I’m tired. I’ve had a long day, and I have another two shifts before I get a day off.”
We have a staredown in the middle of my kitchen, basically back to the scene of the crime, really. “We have to discuss this.”
“What is there to discuss?” I put the container back in the fridge instead of throwing it out. “I’m having a baby.”
“We’re having a baby,” he corrects, his eyes staring into mine. The statement makes me go still. “Go get some sleep,” he urges. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gets up. “Lock the door behind me.”
I watch him walk out of the house, closing the door softly behind him.
I lock it after him, not because he told me to, but so he doesn’t change his mind and come back in the house.
I turn off the lights and head to my bedroom, sliding into bed.
I can smell cigarette smoke drifting in from outside, but I’m too tired and it’s too hot to close the windows.
I’m off my game, my shield is slipping, and my mind is on other things, which is why it won’t be until much later that I’ll remember none of my neighbors smoke. And none of them would be out in the middle of the night.