Page 3 of Don’t Let Him In

But I can’t watch her come apart like this.

I step in, reaching for her again, an arm sliding around her waist as I pull her into me. She gasps, trying to pull away, but I don’t let her this time. My hands come up to cradle her face as I press my forehead to hers. “Break it off with him.”

Another tear slips free from her, warm against my chilled knuckles.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She hesitates, her entire body trembling against mine. When she speaks, it’s so low that I almost miss it. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re—”

The rest of my words die in my throat. Something tight expands in my chest, wrapping itself around my heart and climbing higher, pinching the air from my lungs. I try to push through it, to get the words out, but they won’t come.

She’s pregnant.

“He doesn’t know,” she whispers. “But Manson…it’s his.”

My jaw hardens, even as my grip stays careful, measured. I nod once, slowly, watching her as she searches my face for something—anything.

Her hands fidget between us as she tugs her sleeves back down, her lips pressed tightly together to quiet the stuttering sobs.

A strong gust sweeps across the shed, catching her ponytail and sending it whipping behind her. She folds into me, cold despite the heat still tinging her cheeks.

“You don’t have to go back,” I tell her, the words scraping raw at my throat as the plan forms, piece by piece. “We can leave. Just you and me. Leave this whole town behind.”

She sniffles, shrinking in on herself, eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment, wringing out what’s left of the tears.

I lean in and press a soft kiss to her lips, tasting the salt, the sting sharp where they brush the cut on mine.

She pulls back, blinking up at me, doubt flickering across her face. “How?”

“Do you trust me?” I ask, my hand sliding along her jaw, thumb brushing her chin. “I’ll figure it all out. You don’t have to worry anymore. I won’t let anyone touch you again.”

She nods, slow and uncertain, but it’s enough.

Relief spreads through me as my hand finds hers, our fingers lacing together. They’re cold. Unsteady. Something at the edge of the shed catches my eye. An old wool blanket, half-fallen off a corroded rake in the corner. I cross the space, tug it free, and shake it loose before draping it over her shoulders, pulling it close around her. She barely reacts, just leans into it, into me.

The wind pushes past the open doorframe, blowing into a rusted shovel and knocking it against the wall, a loose hook tapping faintly nearby. I look past her, out into the dark. The choice solidifies. I don’t even hesitate as I tighten my hand over hers and lead us out into the night.

Present Day

Adrenaline spikes through me as I press harder on the gas, my heartbeat kicking out of rhythm. I blink hard, ignoring the prickling behind my eyes as the road stretches ahead, starlight blurring faintly against the windshield.

Streetlamps flicker past in rapid bursts, casting long shadows across the asphalt while the trees loom on either side. The path thins, tightens, mimicking the clasp around my throat.

No one else is out this late.

My grip tightens on the wheel.

The earlier memory weasels its way in despite my best efforts to box it out, filling my mind with my stepmother’s biting criticisms. Her bony finger flexing at me, judgments lashing my way.

You’re nothing but a nuisance, Tatum.

I can still hear her stomping after me, rushing to keep up with my stride, her hot breath at the back of my neck, stirring the fine hairs there as I shove through the front door and bolt toward the car.

Your father would’ve been ashamed of you.