Page 43 of Afterglow

It seems word-vomit is as big a problem as the real kind tonight and I can’t hold anything in anymore. “I would never go back to Craig. Never.” Livid tears fill my eyes. “Not after everything he… he said. Not after he blamed me for not being able to get pregnant. Not after he called me faulty and left,” I shout, leaving a deafening silence behind.

They all sit stunned, and I rub my shaking, sweaty palms down the outside of my leggings and take a deep breath. When I regain control of my ability to speak at a normal octave, I say, “I would appreciate it if everyone in this family would refrain from mentioning him in my presence.”

Even though my voice is calmer, the fury blazing through me is ready to burn this entire thing down. Which is exactly what I do with my parting words. “And, yes, I am pregnant. I would’ve preferred to tell you when I was ready, but there you go. And not that it’s any of your business, but it was a one-night stand.”

With that explosive exclamation, I turn on my heel and stalk for the entryway, grabbing my jacket and slamming the door on my way out.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Bryce

The trilling sound of my phone drags me away from my computer screen, where I got lost in a vortex of invoices and event request forms. I used to keep it on silent, but ever since finding out about Leanne and the baby, I’ve had it on at all times—never wanting to miss a call if she needs something. But she never does.

Which is why seeing her name on the screen now takes me by surprise. It’s the first time she’s actually called me… and I’m usually the one initiating our text conversations too.

“Leanne?” I answer.

“Hey,” she says with a watery sniffle that has me on immediate alert.

“What’s wrong?” I ask with too much force, panic infiltrating my entire body. Every worst-case scenario plays out in my head in double time. She’s miscarrying. She’s hurt. She was in an accident.

“I-I just told my family.” She hiccups in a way that tells me she’s holding back the worst of her tears.

The initial panic plummets, but my anxiety has me rapid-firing questions at her: “What happened? Are they upset? I thought you wanted to wait a while longer?”

“Jesus, Bryce, give me a fucking break,” she snaps, the anger she defaults to when she’s avoiding being vulnerable flaring to life.

We’re a real pair, aren’t we.

I deserve her irritation though. I’m teetering between panic and fix-it mode, and neither is what she needs from me right now. I suck in a sharp inhale and exhale as slowly as I can.

“Sorry,” I say with feigned calm. “What happened?”

I can’t imagine her family being upset about this. Yeah, it’s unplanned, but everything I remember about them from the wedding would lead me to believe they’d be supportive of Leanne no matter what.

Her anger dissipates as quickly as it flared. “I… I don’t…” She begins to cry in earnest and it rips my heart out. “Can you… Can you come over? I know it’s late, but I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Now this is progress. She’s asking for me and I’m already on my feet.

“I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Are you hungry?”

She sniffles and hiccups. I’d bet she is but doesn’t want to ask—doesn’t want to rely on me. She’s still reluctant to fully let me in, to let down her walls, and all I want is to tear them apart. Brick by ever-loving brick.

“Grilled cheese?” I prompt and am rewarded with a weak chuckle from the other end of the line.

“Yeah,” she says, admitting defeat. “That sounds amazing actually. I didn’t get to eat dinner.”

“I’m on my way,” I say, floating to my truck on a high.

She called me.

I’m on Leanne’s front porch with takeout in my hands for the third time in three weeks. I rap my knuckles on the heavy dark wood door and shudder at the gust of wind that blows past my ears.

Leanne swings the door open. Her eyes are red and puffy, and I’m once again frozen with uncertainty over whether or not it’s appropriate to touch her.

What I want is to pull her into my arms and take away the burdens that plague her—she looks like she’s carrying so many.

What I want is to hold on until she trusts me enough to share the load.