Hard: A Step-Brother Romance (21 page)

What
was I supposed to do
now
?

I
asked myself that question in a fancy powder rooms with imported tile, marble vanity,
and beautiful fixtures. The bathroom was so big I could deliver, raise, and
lose
a baby in the room.

The
worse part was that I freaked out in only
one
of the extravagant bathrooms
in the mansion. Hell, I had two closets larger than my room in Momma’s apartment.
The garage even dwarfed my old apartment. I could fill the estate with hundreds
of babies and still have space left over.

I
hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

My
chest tightened. My hands trembled, but I swallowed a quick sob.

It wasn’t
the room that scared me. Or the money. Or trying to take care of it. Him? Her?

It was
Zach.

I could
handle the heartache of him deploying, heading back into combat, leaving me for
good, but what would it do to an innocent baby? I remembered what it was like
growing up without a father.

I
hated the thought of anyone else—especially my own baby—feeling the same.

“Figures.”
I pitched everything in the garbage and covered it with two dozen Kleenex. I
considered flushing the test, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. It was a
plastic stick, not an unfortunate goldfish. “Now what?”

The
door slammed.

Oh,
shit
.
That was what.

Zach.

Well…he
was the one person who probably also deserved to hear the news. Generally fathers
liked to know they were fathers. Most of them. The good ones, at least. Not
that I knew any great fathers, but I really, really thought Zach might have
turned into one.

If
he even wanted to be a father.

If
he hadn’t already pledged to return to his overseas missions. Dangerous missions.
He nearly died on a battlefield only a year ago. My stomach lurched, but this fear
tasted different than my usual nausea. Distance wasn’t the only problem that
would separate my baby from her father.

Zach
could get hurt.

He could
die.

That
was a little too much to take in right now, especially when most of my insides were
trying to heave upwards and escape. Twenty-one years old, and I was
pregnant
.

The
revelation knocked me on my ass and saw fit to keep me there. How the hell was
I supposed to tell Zach if I hadn’t even come close to processing it yet?

I
needed some time to think. The house was big enough for me to hide in. I’d find
a cozy place for the afternoon, make some tea, and I’d…figure it all out.
Child-rearing 101 for the woman who just flunked out of college.

Oh,
that didn’t help the stress.

I
snuck out of the bathroom too slowly. Zach rounded the corner as the door
creaked. Thirty-thousand square feet and not a single can of WD-40 for the
hinges.

“Hey,”
he said.

My
shock turned to annoyance. For
days
he had been completely and totally
absent—rushing around doing God-knows-what to get everything ready for his
deployment. I called, texted, even made a couple dinners with extra servings
for when he got back.

Apparently
Zach was super-fertile but not super-considerate.

“Where
have you been?” My voice edged a little too harsh.

I
inwardly groaned. My anxiety released in a bitchy herald. I didn’t want to start
an argument. I took a breath. “I’ve been worried.”

Zach
shrugged. “Had something to take care of. I’ve got a headache. I’m going to lay
down.”

Another
headache? He did look pale, and the sharpness of his green eyes dulled. He
hadn’t smiled yet.

All
I needed was a flash of his dimples. If I could just have a moment with my
light-hearted, goofy Zach, everything would have been okay.

But
he didn’t give me that. Even his voice turned gruff.

What
was wrong with him?

And
if he was already in a bad mood, what would a pregnancy do to him?

I
crossed my arms, inadvertently hiding my tummy from him, like now that I
discovered the baby I’d suddenly balloon to the size of a watermelon. As far as
I knew, women didn’t do that.

I
hoped.

“Wait,”
I said. Zach hesitated before heading upstairs. “I…I have something to tell
you.”

“Can
it wait?”

He bit
the words. I frowned. What a way to welcome a child into the world.
Hey, I’m
pregnant,
with a resounding response of
Fuck
. No one deserved that,
even a little peanut sized surprise that complicated everything.

He’d
said he wanted a chance, just a shot to be with me. And he promised what I felt
for him was a
good
thing and not the mistake of my lifetime.

Or
worse—a mistake of the baby’s lifetime.

“I
would really like to talk to you now,” I said.

Zach
rubbed his face, tugging his hand over the blonde scruff on his chin. “What is
it?”

He
did
not
need to take an attitude with me. I snorted. I wasn’t about to
shout I was pregnant at him in the same tone I’d yell for him to pick up his
laundry. We lived in a mansion for Christ’s sake. The money to our name almost
required us discussing a child over a candlelit dinner of lobster and caviar while
we thought of names like
Chet
and
Muffy
.

My
heart fluttered. I could blame Zach’s miserable mood all I wanted.

But
it wasn’t him. It was me.

I
chickened out.

“I…”
The words stuck. I gave up. “I talked with my attorney and investment partners.
I can get the trust released to me early if you agree to change the terms.”

“You
had to ask me that?”

“You’re
named in the will, so…yep.”

“Whatever
you need, you got it.”

Zach
rubbed his temple and turned toward the stairs. That was it? No jokes? No
smiles?

My
stomach flipped again, but it wasn’t the baby. I didn’t want him to go. I
sucked in a breath.

“I
think it’s a good idea.” I spoke just to gain his attention, trying to work up
the courage to brave the real conversation. “I’ll get my program up and
running. Meet with some potential groups to invest. You know, to spend some of
this money.”

He frowned.
“Most people would kill for your money.”

“That’s
why it doesn’t feel right taking it.”

“Why?”
His voice sharpened. I didn’t appreciate the tone, and it didn’t help me build
up the courage to consider mentioning the baby.

“I
just stumbled into this fortune. My father was a complete stranger to me.” I
stuttered over the word
father
. Zach didn’t notice. “I wasn’t a daughter
to him, I was an afterthought. He chose a life apart from me.”

“And
you think that’s actually how it went down?”

I
bristled. “I was there.”

“You
didn’t give him enough credit.”

“What
the hell would you know about it?” The
last
thing I wanted was to
protect the jackass who walked out on me and Momma. It still hurt my heart to
remember, and it destroyed me to imagine it happening again.

“Forget
it.”

Hell
no. Not with that attitude. I hardened my words.

“My
father didn’t want me,” I said. “He didn’t
love
me. So excuse me if this
feels weird. For all I know, he never meant for me to have the money at all.
Maybe I was an afterthought, or some place to stick his fortune so it wouldn’t
turn over to the state.”

“Oh
Christ.”

I
didn’t let him finish. “So yes. I feel like I’m taking a stranger’s money only
because he couldn’t haul it with him to the afterlife. It doesn’t sit well on
my conscience…unlike other people I know.”

Zach’s
jaw tightened. “Here we go. Having the same goddamned fight every fucking
week.”

“You
asked!”

He
nodded. “And it was stupid. I already knew you’d use it as a wedge between us.”

“I’m
not wedging!”

“You’ve
used any excuse you could to pull away from me.”

I
swallowed. I so wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Look, I can’t…I need some time.
I can’t talk about
us
now.”

“Why
not?” He stood in front of me. “Let’s just do it. Get it all out in the open.”

Did
he want me to throw up on his shoes? Cause I’d do it. Nothing about his anger
set right with me. I wasn’t ready to confront any of this yet. Not the money,
not his leaving, not a pregnancy.

“Zach,
please.”

“What
are you so afraid of?”

Everything.
“Don’t ask me that.”

“How
can I fix it if I don’t know what it is?”

Why
did he start now? I stared at him, holding a hard gaze I didn’t recognize. God,
he was handsome. Strong. He had a smile that’d charm my pants off and a
mischievous side that’d steal my panties. But it wasn’t enough. It’d
never
be enough. Not when I knew what would happen the instant I let myself feel
everything for him.

When
I finally let myself love him.

“You’re
a SEAL,” I said. “A soldier. Can you fix that? Can you look me in the eyes and
tell me you’re going to stay here, with me, without having to leave for six
months to put your life in danger?”

“It’s
a
job
, Shay.”

“You
asked!” I said. “And that’s my answer. I was abandoned once before, and it felt
like shit. I’m won’t put myself through it again.”

“You
weren’t abandoned!”

“Then
what would you call it?”

Zach
grunted. He motioned for me to stay put, an order I immediately ignored. I
marched to the library before my stomach flipped again. Zach stormed through
the doors, holding an old shoebox. He rattled the contents with a frown.

“You
really think you were abandoned?” He thrust the box at my chest. “Here. Take
it.”

The
box was beat up and yellowed. I knocked the lid off with a cautious finger.
Bundles of pictures rested inside—a scrapbook without the book or organization
or artistic talent. Each photo was meticulously labeled and dated with a little
thought about the moment.

My
father’s handwriting.

On
pictures of me.

I
recognized the curly haired demon in a pink frilly bathing suit playing in a
sprinkler. My dad scribbled on the back.
Shay—four years old—loving the
water!
I swallowed. The lump in my throat kept the nausea down. Another
picture—little me in a tiny yellow graduation gown.
Shay—five years old—kindergarten
graduation, next step Law School!

Zach
scowled. “I found those in the study. Your father put them in the fireproof
cabinet so nothing would happen to them.”

The
packages of pictures dwindled the older I became. The most recent one rested on
top of the pile. I trembled as I held it, like it weighed heavier than the
others. I recognized my high school graduation picture, but the message meant
more than the diploma in my hand.

Shay—high
school graduation—wish I could tell her she gets more beautiful every day.

“He
never abandoned you,” Zach said. “Did you see the room he designed for you
here? The only reason I took the damn master bedroom was because I thought
you’d like that one. Hell, he even built you a balcony and planted your
favorite flowers in the garden beneath it. He
wanted
you here.”

My
voice weakened. “But I didn’t want balconies and flowers. I wanted my
father
.”

“And
he wanted you. The first time I met him? He took me and my mother out for dinner.
He wouldn’t stop talking about you, Shay. Not for a minute. He was so proud of
you.”

“Why
didn’t you tell me before?”

“Would
you have believed me? Would it have mattered? Just because he wasn’t around
didn’t mean he didn’t love you. It meant you didn’t
let
him love you.”
He swore. “And you’re doing it again with me.”

“I’m
not.”

“Bullshit,”
he said. “Fuck, Shay. I’m crazy about you. Give me a sign I’m not wasting my
time chasing after you.”

Oh
no.

No
way.

Now?
He wanted declarations
now
? While we screamed at each other? While we
hurt each other in my library sanctuary where he took me, loved me, and created
a baby with me?

I
looked away, head in my hands. He assumed that was my answer. I was just trying
to make the room stop spinning.

Sweat
broke out over me, everywhere, chilled and terrified.

I
didn’t want to lose Zach.

I
should have told him. Everything. That I was scared of loving my step-brother.
That I wanted him more than anything in my life. That I had fallen for him hard
enough to bounce through every floor of the mansion and still not strike
bottom.