Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
EMILY
Pressing my lips together, I try not to make any expression clear on my face at the sight of the woman staring back at me. She’s pissed. Not surprising since I’m pretty sure that expression is permanently etched into her face by now.
“Mother,” I state. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes to the sky, then shifts her attention back to meet mine. I watch as she pops a hip out, her hand balled into a fist before placing it on her waist. She inhales a deep breath, her gaze never leaving mine.
“I need a place to stay for a while. It’s your fuckin’ obligation to let me in. Now get the fuck out of my way.”
I’ve never denied my mother anything, not really. She’s never given me the chance, and I’ve always thought it was easier to just let her do whatever instead of standing up for myself, but right now, I’m feeling spicy.
I’m feeling spicy because I’m feeling panicked. Baylor is getting ready to end it all with me, and in that end, any shred of happiness I’ve ever had. Being with him, it’s been the happiest few weeks of my entire life.
I’d be his secret forever if he wanted.
That’s how happy he makes me.
“No,” I state. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow, but not tonight.”
All I can think about is the possibility of Baylor wanting to come back here for one last time, and I am not going to miss out on that because of my damn mother.
I refuse.
She wraps her fingers around my bicep and squeezes. Her fingers are cold, bony and sharp as she digs them into my bare arm. I don’t shrug them off, knowing that if I do, I’ll earn her acrylic nails, and that shit hurts.
“You better be joking.”
“I’m going out tonight. But feel free to come back tomorrow.”
I watch as her gaze slides all the way down my body to my boots, then slowly makes its way back up to meet my own. “Is that why you look like a slut?”
Her words should bother me. They should cut deeply, but they don’t. She’s been saying those same things, or a version of them, since I was ten years old. I was the slut when her men looked at me sideways.
I was the whore when one of them tried to touch me. I was the stupid slut when I told her about it.
And I was worthless when I didn’t do anything to help her keep them.
“You can come back tomorrow or not at all. I don’t care,” I say, attempting to stand my ground.
No, I am standing my ground, and I will stand my ground. If there is anything that Baylor has given me in this time we’ve spent together, it’s that I have worth. I don’t owe her anything. I won’t owe her anything.
I refuse.
“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Try not to get knocked up while you’re out whoring around town.”
She spins around, and I watch her walk away.
I don’t move. I can’t. My knees tremble.
Her words play on repeat. Try not to get knocked up while you’re out whoring around town.
Try not to get knocked up while you’re out whoring around town.
Try not to get knocked up while you’re out whoring around town.
I haven’t been on birth control, and we used a condom once… but that’s all.
Oh my god.
I never had to worry with Beckett, because he always, always wore protection. But with Baylor, we’ve been so lost in passion, in one another, that it wasn’t even in my head. Not even a second thought. All I wanted was him inside me.