chapter 69
Did I remember? What a cruel question to ask.
I stared into his eyes and held back every emotion I could, a hundred memories pushing at thin spider-webs of restraint.
I smiled tightly, words finding their way out of my throat, properly smooth and cold.
“Oh yes. My apologies, Mr. Stern. It’s been so long.
” I tore my eyes from his, finding Tobey’s, strength in his easy smile, his innocence, my clueless husband unaware of the raging war.
Giving him a small smile, I walked toward the SUV, taking comfort in the strong click of my heels on the pavement, the sound of escape, of a woman tougher than myself, just four steps away from safety, then three, then two.
Then I was in the truck, the firm shut of the door buffering the howl of the outside wind—everything muted, everything safe.
Alone, if only for a brief moment. I let out a shaky breath, one traitorous tear leaking down my cheek before I hurriedly wiped it away.
The men turned, heading toward the vehicle, and I looked away, out the window, my mask of indifference settling back into place.
Four years ago, I would have broken down.
Reached for him, damn Tobey and anyone else.
Four years ago I didn’t know how to hide my emotions.
Four years ago, I let my heart dictate my mouth, and said what was on my mind.
“I hate him!” I screamed the words, pushing against my father’s chest, not even sure where I was fighting to go.
Baltimore? What would I do there? Show up at Chase’s hotel room, another man’s baby inside of me, weak apologies on my lips?
I’d called him six times since his trade and couldn’t even get a return call.
“It took two of you to do this, Ty.” Dad’s voice was dry and deep, a bit of his Texas upbringing coating the words. “You can’t hate Tobey for all of it. But we have to tell him. We have to tell them.”
Them. The Grants. Was it a blessing that Rose Grant had passed away before seeing her son knock me up?
Maybe. On the other hand, with both of us motherless, I would be the only female presence in this baby’s life.
A terrifying thought, the additional pressure unwelcome and I screamed from the sheer frustration of it all.
There was a gentle knock on the door and Carla peeked inside, her face worried, eyes scanning over me.
I clenched my hands into fists and straddled the thin line between another scream and bursting into tears.
I couldn’t tell the Grants. I couldn’t look at Mr. Grant’s face, or Tobey’s, and tell them that I was pregnant.
The elder had so much respect for me, had pushed for us to date for so long, had bragged about what a good girl I was to everyone…
I sank against my father’s chest, his arms wrapping around me, and bit back a sob.
And Tobey. He’d all but run from me that day after our sex.
Hadn’t so much as texted me since. Then, I’d been grateful, my heart belonging to Chase, no interest on my part for any more of that mistake.
But now, I was furious. Maybe it was unjustified.
I’d certainly had just as much part as him in the event.
But my anger was there, hot and desperate, and it needed a target.
And right then, in my bedroom, it was Tobey.
It had taken three days for me to get my emotions in check.
For my heart to run the gamut from crying to screaming to crying to screaming.
Dad had gone to his game, and I had stayed home with Carla, most of the day spent in bed, working through my hysteria.
By the time he returned, I was calm. By the time we got in the truck and made the drive into the city, my mask was in place.
Never once, in those first months with Tobey, did I let him see how I truly felt.
I saved those outbursts for night, when I was alone in my room, our bedrooms not yet shared, and I had the privacy to cry.
It was one of those nights, when I was sobbing into a pillow, wishing for Chase, that Rachel Frepp died.
The first of the girls.
The beginning of the curse.
And I didn’t even know. None of us did.