POWER BACK

Chapter 40: When the Party's Over

Chapter 40: When the Party's Over

March

I've been thinking a lot about the way I hurt Peyton by not being honest with her. Not only about Bree, but from the very beginning. She never knew how I felt about her. And if I felt so much for her that it literally drove me to drink, I probably should have told her so.

Not for her sake, but for mine.

I was a coward.

I acted like a child who can't express what he wants and throws a tantrum when he doesn't get it.

But I'm also thinking a lot about Bree and how I haven't been honest with her either—about my lack of feelings for her, about how I was falling in love with someone else.

How I probably still am.

It seems to me, I'm no good for either one of them.

But I need to stick by Bree. I don't think it's an accident that I remembered that conversation with my Ma when she said that a real man takes care of his own, that he sets aside childish ways and thinks about the welfare of his family first. A man's job is to care for his children. Protect them. To be strong when things get tough. Not to let his own selfishness threaten his family.

I will never abandon my child the way my father abandoned me. The way he abandoned Joe. And I couldn't protect Joe then, but I can protect my child now.

So I'm here at Bree's to tell her goodbye before I head down to the Rio Grande with Jesse. I want her to know that I'm here for her, but that I also need her to care about what's important to me, and that's the welfare of our unborn baby. I have to tell her my plans for the future.

I'm really not looking forward to it.

She opens the door before I get a chance to knock.

She smiles and gestures for me to come in. She's in an oversized T-shirt and tiny shorts, showing off her legs, long and lean despite her growing middle. She tilts her head. "So, you still going to the border?"

"Yep, we leave first thing in the morning," I say as I walk past her into the family room. When I sit on the couch, she comes and snuggles up next to me.

"You've been busy," I say, nodding at her stack of books—CLEP and AP exam workbooks, What to Expect When You're Expecting, a book about Emily Dickinson, and her pink journal.

My fingers itch to pick it up the journal and read what she's been writing, possibly about me.

"Yeah," she says. "It's so hard to focus with pregnancy brain, but I really want to pass these exams so I can graduate with our class."

"Don't you have to take the GED?"

"I was going to do that, but my counselor recommended I finish my high school credits through reverse transfer of CLEP and AP exams. Since I only need English and Econ for my high school degree, that seemed like the best option."

"How is that possible?"

"Because I've been in advanced classes since eighth grade. I finished all the required math and science last year."

"Damn, Einstein." I smile and shake my head.  

"I really don't feel like a genius right now, but I'll take it." She puts her head on my shoulder.

It's so weird with her. One minute she resents me, and the next minute she's all lovey-dovey. It's a little like being on a rollercoaster.

She puts her hand on my thigh and trails her fingers along my quad muscle. I clear my throat and shift a little.