As a single mom in a small town, there's only one thing I want. Another baby. When all the roads to getting what I want lead to dead ends, I turn to one of my best friends for help.
In my mind, Trent Castillo is the perfect baby daddy. He has good g...
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The police tape is gone, Rhonda has been fired, and some guy named Donny dropped off his resume this morning. It's hard to have any enthusiasm when it feels like my life is a dumpster fire.
Last night, I went over to Joanna's house with my mom as a buffer. Which is fucking ridiculous, that I asked my mom to come with me, afraid Joanna would say something to me about Emily.
It's like I can't even think about her without it feeling like I'm being cracked in half. When the police were all over me, keeping her away from it, out of it, was exactly what I thought I needed to do.
Now that's all receding, the reality of what I've done is sinking in. It's still the right thing to do—ease their life in Little Falls by not having them so closely associated with me—but fuck if it doesn't hurt like hell.
As I sat with Amir last night building the Lego, I realized I'd probably never be doing this on Emily's living room floor again. That all the things we'd done together—the trips to the fall fairs, the movie nights, the dinners we cooked together—all of it was over.
Emily still ended up going to the station to confess she was the one on the footage. When Thomas told me, I'd lost my shit, but he'd promised he hadn't been the one to talk to her. But I can't imagine how embarrassing it was for her to sit there and confirm all those dates and times.
It just solidifies my belief that she didn't benefit from being with me at all. A damaged reputation. Embarrassment. If I could go back to January me, I'd sit there listening to Grady and Kelvin explain how my relationship with Emily would fall apart eventually, and I'd agree, let myself believe she was better off without them, instead of being consumed with jealousy over some anonymous person she hadn't even met yet.
"You alright over there?" Brett asks from the bay beside me.
"Fine," I mutter.
"At least Dan's going to jail this time. Sounds like the police have a lot on him."
"He got cocky," I say. "I've been there." I stare out into the empty parking lot. Other than a couple oil changes, there's been no work today. It's the first day we've been open again.
"People will come back," Brett says. "Most probably don't even know we're open again."
I don't bother contradicting him, though I know our opinions don't align.
"Dan sold you out last time, and he tried to bring you down this time. Anyone in this town with even a hint of common sense will see the link is Dan, not you."
"Maybe," I say, grabbing another tool to clean. I'm not holding my breath. I'm going to give it a couple more weeks and then suggest selling again to Emily.
"I'm pissed I didn't see the signs in Rhonda," Brett says. "Should have."
"Sometimes we see what we want to see." For a while, I'd thought I could see a future with Emily—glimmery and distant and not fully formed. Turned out to be a mirage. "Listen," I say, "there's a good chance I'll be selling this place. I already called Earl about maybe going back there."
"What?" Brett leaves where he's been working through cleaning tools too. "You've got to be shitting me. One little scare and you're out?"
"I wondered if you'd thought about taking over?" I ask.
"You mean if Emily won't sell this place?" Brett is eyeing me in a way I don't like. "She doesn't strike me as the type to back down from a fight."
"How do you know Emily's the investor?" I ask, my voice gruff.
"Came out during the police questioning," Brett says.
"They asked questions about her?" My heart feels like it's in my throat.
"You didn't do anything wrong," Brett says. "You've still got such a chip on your shoulder about what you did at nineteen. And sure, there are some people in town that'll hold that over your head forever, but you don't need to be holding it over your own." He takes a deep breath. "Yeah, they asked questions about Emily and her involvement in this place. But again, and I want you to really fucking hear me, you didn't do anything wrong."
"I dragged her name through the mud."
"Dan tried to drag your name and hers through the mud."
"Dan is only a factor because of what I did at nineteen."
Brett shakes his head and lets out a frustrated laugh. "You're so intent on putting yourself on the cross, man. Dan is a viper, and he does what any snake will do when they're backed in a corner—strike out at anyone they can. It's not your fault he's a viper. It's not your fault that his strike grazed her when it was aiming for you. It's not even your fault he was aiming for you. When he came here, you made the right choice."
"Coming back to Little Falls was a mistake," I say. "I can't build a life here."
Brett lets out a huff of frustration and throws up his hands. "I'm going to go get a coffee. You want anything?"
"Nah," I say, replacing one tool and taking another to wrap in the cloth in my hand. "I'm good."
The roar of Brett's truck reverberates through the silence, and then I hear him drive away. For a beat, the quiet feels good, but then all my thoughts start getting loud, telling me things I don't want to listen to.
"Hey," Emily says from outside the bay.
I whip around, startled, and I drop the tool in my hand. "Hi," I say, and I breathe out the word, conscious of the weight it holds in the air.
"Can we talk?"
I scoop up the tool of the ground, polish it up, and I put it back. "There's nothing to say that hasn't been said." Mentally, I'm bricking up my heart, shoring up any leak in my emotions.
"There is, actually."
"Brett's gone on a coffee run, and no one else is here today." I gesture to the empty bays. "Business is shit."
"It'll pick back up. As soon as people realize it was a mistake."
"There will be people who'll never believe it."
"They were probably the ones who were never going to give you a shot no matter what. Not everyone in this town is a good, decent person who believes in second chances. We both know that."
"Is that what you came to talk about?"
"No," she says, and she releases a breath, as though she was holding it in, even as we were talking. "God, this is so hard. I really thought this would be different."
She's got my attention now, and I let myself scan her figure, search her expression. There's a grayish pal to her skin, and I feel like the worst person in the world. She's obviously unwell.
My heart constricts at why she'd be here to talk to me when she was feeling. What if she's really, really ill? Dangerously ill. I take a step toward her, all my defenses starting to crumble.
"Em?" I ask, almost afraid to voice the rest.
"I'm pregnant," she says. "I just found out I'm pregnant."
