The kitchen is so silent, I feel like I’m in church. Not that I’ve been to church often. Mom dragged me to a few Sunday sermons when I was a kid, until finally admitting that she’d way rather sleep in on the weekends. I was totally on board with that plan.
But right now, it’s not God and Pastor Dave passing judgment on me—it’s my closest friends.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell us sooner?” Garrett.
“You’re seriously keeping this kid?” Logan.
“Sabrina fucking James?” Dean.
I tighten my grip around my beer bottle and scowl at Dean. I blame him for this little powwow. Two seconds after I told him and Allie the news, he’d sent an SOS to Garrett and Logan ordering them to get their asses home. They’d been at the dorms with their girlfriends, and now I feel like a jerk for spoiling their nights.
“Guys, why don’t you let him talk instead of shouting questions at him?” Allie speaks up in a cautious tone.
I can tell she doesn’t want to be here for this, but Dean dragged her into the kitchen with us, latched his hand onto hers, and hasn’t let go since. I don’t get why he’s so pissed about this. It’s not like he’s the one about to become a father. And I know for a fact he’s not still into Sabrina, because he looks at Allie like she hung the damn moon. The two of them hit a rocky patch after Beau’s death, but the last couple of months they’ve been disgustingly in love.
“Tuck?” Allie prompts, tucking her blonde hair behind her ear.
I take a terse swig of my beer. “I don’t have much else to say. Sabrina and I are having a kid. End of story.”
“How long have you been seeing her?” Logan demands.
“A while.” Their frowns tell me they don’t like my response, so I add, “Early November.”
Logan looks startled. Garrett doesn’t, which makes me narrow my eyes at him in question.
“I suspected,” he admits.
The other guys swivel their heads toward him in accusation. “What do you mean, you suspected?” Logan echoes.
“It means I suspected.” Garrett glances across the table at me. “Saw you holding her hand at Beau’s memorial.”
When a flash of guilt passes through Dean’s eyes, I know he’s thinking about how he got piss-drunk in his room instead of attending the memorial service for one of his best friends.
Logan turns back to me. “So it’s serious with you two?”
Laughter sputters out. “We’re having a baby. Of course it’s serious.”
Or at least I’m planning for it to be. Sabrina still needs time, though. Time to fully get a handle on this pregnancy stuff. Time to lower her guard and realize she can trust me. Time to lower that guard even more and realize that she loves me. Because I know she does. She’s just too scared to admit or acknowledge it, to me and to herself.
“Why didn’t she get an abortion?”
Dean’s question elicits a gasp from Allie, frowns from the guys, and an angry scowl from me.
“Because we decided to keep it,” I say harshly.
Everyone flinches. I’m pretty sure they’ve never heard me snap at anyone before. Usually I don’t, but Dean is treading dangerously close to I’m-going-to-beat-him-senseless territory. I get that he doesn’t like Sabrina, but he will damn well show her respect, even when she’s not in the room.
“Hey. Let’s relax, okay?” Garrett proves why he’s our team captain by speaking in a calm, pacifying voice.
Though, I realize, he’s not Dean’s captain anymore, because Dean got kicked off the team back in January. I think failing that drug test was one of the catalysts for his dragging himself back to the land of the sober. That, and Allie.
“This is Tuck’s life,” Garrett goes on. “We have no right to judge his decisions. If this is what he wants, then we’re going to support him. Right?”
After a beat, Logan nods. “Right.”
Dean’s jaw tightens. “This is going to ruin your life, man.”
It’s getting harder and harder to control the anger simmering in my gut. “Well, it’s my life to ruin,” I say coldly. “You don’t get a say in it.”
“What about Harvard?” he pushes. “Is she still gonna go?”
“Yes.”
He shakes his head. “Does she get how time-consuming law school is?”
“Of course.”
Another shake of his head. “So she’s dumping all the responsibilities on you?”
I instantly come to Sabrina’s defense. “No, we’re sharing the responsibilities.”
More head-shaking.
Swear to God, if he doesn’t stop doing that, I’m going to rip his blond head right off his neck.
“Dean,” Allie warns.
“I’m sorry, but I think this is crazy,” he announces. “That girl is colder than ice. She’s judgmental. She’s—”
“The mother of my child,” I growl.
Dean growls back. “Fine, whatever. Go ahead and destroy your life. What do I care?”
My mouth falls open as he marches out of the kitchen. Seriously?
There’s a long silence, and then Allie gets up too. “I’ll go talk to him,” she says with a sigh. “Ignore him, Tuck. He’s just being a dickhead.”
I don’t answer. I’m too pissed to talk.
“For what it’s worth, you have my support. I think you’re going to make a great dad.” Her hand rests lightly on my shoulder before she heads to the door.
Once she’s gone, I stare at my remaining friends. “You meant what you said? I have your support on this?”
They both nod. Logan’s lips are twitching, though, as if he’s trying not to laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask warily.
“Dude. Do you even realize all the gross things coming your way?”
I blink in confusion.
“Go look up childbirth videos on YouTube,” he advises. “We had to watch some for the women’s studies class I took freshman year. They’re goddamn horrifying.” Logan shudders. “Did you know that eighty percent of chicks shit on the table?”
Garrett snorts. “You’re totally making up that stat.”
“Okay, maybe not eighty percent. But it fucking happens, and it’s gross. Oh, and the placenta? A huge bloody sac that just drops on the floor after the kid pops out? After you see that, I guarantee you’ll never want to stick your dick in there again.”
“I suddenly feel really sorry for Grace,” Garrett remarks.
“I’m going to push for a scheduled C-section,” Logan says haughtily, but the twinkle in his eye tells me he’s only kidding. You can always count on Logan to lighten the mood.
“Look,” I say, “I know this is a huge shock. And trust me, I still haven’t wrapped my head around it either. But I lo—care about Sabrina.” I correct myself before the L-word leaves my mouth. No way am I saying it to my friends before I say it to her. “Dean is all wrong about her. She’s driven, yeah, but she’s not cold or judgmental. She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s…pretty fucking amazing.”
A lump obstructs my throat. Damn it. I wish Sabrina could see herself through my eyes. She thinks she’s dragging me down into the gutter with her, but she’s wrong. She’s giving me the one thing I’ve always wanted—a family. Sure, it’s happening earlier than I planned, but life doesn’t always follow a schedule.
“So you’re really doing this, huh?” Garrett sounds a bit awed.
“Yup.”
“Do I get to be the godfather?”
“Fuck that!” Logan objects. “He’s picking me. Obvs.”
“Bullshit. I’m clearly the better choice.”
“You’re clearly the bigger egomaniac, that’s what you are.”
I snicker. “Keep this up and I’m picking neither of you. But it’s good to know you’re both eager for the job. I think I’ll come up with some kind of competition, make you two battle it out.”
“I’ll win,” Garrett says immediately.
“Fuck that!”
They’re still arguing about it as I duck out of the kitchen. Dean might’ve been a jackass about my big news, but it’s a relief to know that at least I have G and Logan’s support.
I’m sure as hell going to need it.
*
I’m here. Where u at?
Fitzy’s text pops up as I park in the lot in front of Malone’s. I drove here straight from the house, because telling my roommates about the baby isn’t the only item on tonight’s agenda. I still need to find a place to live, and I’m really hoping Fitz can help me with that.
I quickly type a response.
Me: Just got here. Walking in now.
Him: Corner booth in the back.
Putting away my phone, I lock the truck and head into the bar. Fitzy is sipping a beer when I slide onto the booth seat across from him. He’s ordered one for me too, which I gratefully accept.
“Hey. Thanks for meeting up.”
He shrugs. “No prob. I was getting stir crazy anyway. My apartment is too fucking small.”
Huh. I didn’t expect an opening this early in the conversation, but damned if I’m going to pass it up. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Fitzy arches a brow. “My small apartment?”
“Sort of.” I trace my finger over the label of my beer. “You said your lease is ending in May, right?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You given any thought to what you’re doing about that? Are you signing another lease? Moving somewhere else?”
A grin tugs on the corners of his mouth. “What’s with the Twenty Questions?”
“Just trying to figure out where your head is at.” I take another sip. “I’m not going back to Texas after graduation.”
He peers at me over the neck of his bottle. “Since when?”
“Since I’m having a kid in August.”
Loud choking noises break out from his side of the booth. I probably shouldn’t have sprung that on him while he was mid-sip. I feel bad as I watch him cough wildly.
“Y-you—” He coughs again. Clears his throat. “You’re having a kid?”
“Yeah. Sabrina’s pregnant.”
“Oh.” One tattooed arm lifts so he can rub his temple. “Shit. Well. Congrats, I guess?”
An unwitting smile touches my lips. “Thanks.”
He studies me carefully. “You seem cool about this.”
“That’s because I am,” I say simply. “But yeah, I definitely need to find a place in Boston. And I remember you mentioned you wouldn’t be against living in the city, so…” I shrug. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask if you’re in the market for a roommate.”
“Ah.” Regret flickers in his expression. “I decided not to do that. I thought I’d be cool with the commute, but I talked it through with Hollis and he reminded me what a bitch it is to drive from Boston to Hastings in the winter, so I’m going to stick around here for my senior year.”
I swallow my disappointment. “Oh, okay. That makes sense.”
“Stupid question, but…why aren’t you moving in with Sabrina?”
Stupid question, no. Good question? Hell yes.
“We’re not there yet,” I reply, because the alternative is fucking embarrassing. Because she doesn’t want to be with me.
“Okay. Well. If you’re serious about living in Boston, I actually do know someone who needs a roommate.”
I brighten up. “Who?”
“You’re not going to like it,” he warns.
“Who?” I press.
“Hollis’ brother. His landlord hiked up his rent and he’s not sure he can keep the place on his own.”
Aw fuck. Brody Hollis, king of the douches? The man who puts the bro in Brody? I’d rather—no. There’s no I’d rather. I’m not exactly swimming in options at the moment. Brody might be…fratty, but his apartment was big and clean and had two bedrooms.
And it’s only a five-minute drive from Sabrina’s house.
As much as I hate the idea, I can’t deny that it’s a good, convenient option.
I take another long sip of my beer. Then I say, “Can I have his number?”
