Trace + Olivia Series Boxed Set (130 page)

As if he felt me watching him, his eyes cracked open and he smiled sleepily. His smile quickly turned to a frown though as memories of last night flooded him.

“I’m ready to go home,” I whispered sadly. I had to force myself to say the words. I didn’t really want to go back to that place, back to my shitty mom and my sleazy step-dad. I wanted to stay right here with Trent. However, I knew if I let myself linger much longer, the pain I’d feel later would be even worse. The sooner I got away, the sooner I could grieve this loss and move on. Well, there never really would be any moving on for me. Every day I’d be reminded of what I had done, and what I had lost because of it.

Trent swallowed thickly and nodded. He clearly didn’t want to let me go, but he knew he had no choice.

He extracted his body from mine and stood, pulling on his boxer briefs and then rummaging around his suitcase for a pair of jeans. “I’ll take you home.” His voice was thick, whether from still being sleepy or emotions he was fighting, I didn’t know. I held the sheet to my chest and sat up, looking around his room for my own suitcase.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw what I was searching for. He grabbed my suitcase, which had been hidden from my sight by the mountain of blankets on the bed, and deposited it in front of me.

I dressed as quickly as possible and pulled my hair back in a messy ponytail. My eyes were bothering me from having fallen asleep in my contacts, so I went to the bathroom and removed them, perching my glasses on the end of my nose.

My hand hurt like a bitch this morning, but its constant throb helped diffuse the other pain inside me.

I eyed my tired reflection for a moment. My eyes were sunken in with dark circles beneath them and my mouth was turned down in a frown that I couldn’t force into a smile no matter how hard I tried. Yesterday had been a trying day for me. I still couldn’t believe I’d had that meltdown in the car, and then again in the bathroom. It wasn’t like me, but everything was catching up with me and I didn’t know how to process my feelings.

I finished in the bathroom and found Trent waiting by his bedroom door with both our suitcases. “Let’s go,” he muttered without looking at me.

It killed me that he couldn’t bring himself to look at me. This had to be done though. We had to end. He couldn’t find out what I had done and I wanted to tell him so bad. Some secrets have to be kept quiet and I was bound to mine.

He carried the suitcases down the steps and out to the garage. All the while not saying a word to me. I wanted him to look at me, to say something…
anything
. Silence, ultimately, was better though.

He drove me home, his jaw tight with anger, but sadness too.

I knew he’d hate me for this—for breaking his heart a second time.

But better he hate me for that than the truth.

He parked in the driveway, not the street, and hopped out to get my suitcase.

I knew better than to argue as he wheeled my suitcase up to the front door. I walked slightly in front of him and jumped in surprise when the door opened. I expected it to be my mom or step-dad, since they should’ve been the only ones home, but instead it was Tristan.

“Row!” He cried my name with joy as he came barreling into my arms.

My heart stuttered in my chest.

They weren’t supposed to be home yet! I was supposed to pick them up tomorrow! Tristan shouldn’t have been here!

“Hi,” Tristan released his stranglehold on me and turned to greet Trenton.

Trent’s mouth fell open in shock as his eyes landed on the little boy. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement, then flickered to me, and back to Tristan again. Recognition lit his eyes and my throat closed up.

He knew.

There was no denying the resemblance.

“Hello,” Trenton finally responded, his voice slightly squeaky as he stared down at Tristan.

I knew what he saw. I saw it every single day. Tristan had the same light colored hair I’d had as a child, but everything else about him had Trenton Wentworth written all over it—especially his vivid blue eyes.

“You need to go inside now.” I gave Tristan a slight shove. He didn’t need to be here to witness this.

“Why?” He peered up at me with inquisitiveness.

“Just do it,” I said, my voice harsher than how I normally spoke to him.

He frowned, but finally went back inside, waving at Trent before closing the door.

“That’s my son,” Trenton stated, his eyes full of anger. His face was growing red and his nostrils flared.

I nodded. I couldn’t refute it.

“That’s my son,” he repeated, rubbing his jaw. His face was clouded with disbelief. “My son,” his voice grew soft with shock. “Why the fuck did you never tell me?!” He suddenly roared, pointing an accusing finger in my face. His eyes were full of hatred for me. Despite knowing if he ever found out that he’d hate me it still hurt to see that look in his eyes.

My voice seemed to have stopped working. I opened my mouth to speak but no sound came out. My worst nightmare was playing out before me and I was powerless to stop it. This was exactly what I had been trying to avoid for the last five years. I knew letting Trent back into my life, no matter how brief, would have lasting consequences.

“I have a son,” his voice was full of wonder as he glanced at the closed door. “What’s his name?” His eyes stayed glued to the door, like he was willing the small boy to come back outside so he could see him again.

“T-Tristan,” I stuttered, finally finding my voice.

“You gave him a T name,” he whispered under his breath so low that I wasn’t sure I heard him right.

He stared at the closed door, his jaw clenched, and his hands fisting at his sides. He seemed to be battling some internal war.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me!” He twisted back to face me, and I flinched at his harsh tone. I didn’t like him yelling at me, but I understood. This was a shock for him. He had every right to be angry and hate me.

“I couldn’t tell you,” I cried softly, itching to reach out and touch him, but knowing that was the last thing he wanted right now.

I had known there was the possibility he might find out about Tristan, it was a small town after all, but I’d hoped to avoid this. I had been forced to keep this a secret, and it had slowly been killing me inside to stay silent, but I’d had no choice. I wasn’t allowed to say anything to Tristan until he was eighteen, which meant Trent couldn’t know until then either. I had always planned to tell him, knowing that he’d hate me when he found out, but having him see Tristan and find out the truth like this was horrible. I knew he wouldn’t understand why I did it.

“Like hell!” He spat, shoving his fingers forcefully through his hair. “I can’t fucking believe you, Rowan!
This
,” he pointed at the closed door, “is what you’ve been hiding from me! This is the reason you wanted to end this! Didn’t you think I had a right to know?!”

“Of course!” I reached for his arm, but he flinched, backing away from me. “I couldn’t tell you, Trent,” I pleaded with him to understand. “I wanted to, so bad, but I couldn’t.”

“I can’t even look at you,” he muttered, his voice growing quiet once more. “I have to go.”

“Trenton! Please, let me explain!” I screamed as he darted around me, running for his car. “Trent!” I begged. I needed him to stay and hear me out. I had to make him understand. I knew he wouldn’t want anything to do with me after this, but I deserved to explain myself.

“I don’t want to hear it!” He yelled, turning to point an accusing finger at me. “I’m so fucking angry right now! Guess what?” He spread his arms wide. “You’re getting your wish! From this moment on, I’m out of your life!”

He climbed in his car, slammed the door closed, and sped away.

I sunk to the ground, snow seeping into my jeans and chilling me. A sob escaped me, and then tears. I reached up, feeling the wetness with timid fingers. I hadn’t cried in five years, not since I found out I was pregnant and my world came crashing down around me.

I thought I had been broken before… and I was… but Trenton had managed to carefully piece together the shards of me. Now, I was breaking all over again, and this time I knew the pieces would be too small to ever be reassembled.

My hand shakes as my gaze drops to the slender white stick in my hand. I slide to the floor, my back against the bathroom door.

Pregnant.

Holy shit.

How am I going to raise a kid?

I already take care of Ivy, I don’t see how I can raise my little sister and a child of my own.

Tears coat my cheeks with sticky dampness.

I will the test to change to negative, but of course that doesn’t happen.

I’m going to have a baby.

Trent’s baby.

After how horrible I’ve been to him I don’t see how I can tell him. I’ve said so many mean things to him the last few weeks. Things I’ll never be able to take back. I’m sure he already hates me, and why would he want a baby? We’re sixteen, nowhere near ready to be parents. We’re both kids ourselves.

I sit up and toss the stick in the trashcan. I wash my hands and splash my face with water.

I have to tell my mom.

She hates me.

But she’s my mom.

She’ll be there for me… right?

She’ll make this better.

Surely she’ll know what to do.

She has to.

I crack open the bathroom door and venture into the living room. Ivy is asleep, but my mom shouldn’t be drunk yet. She doesn’t start drinking until late… although, in past weeks she’s been starting earlier.

I’m not surprised to find her sitting on the couch drinking a beer as she speaks to her latest fuck buddy. I don’t even remember his name. John? James? Jim? I think it’s Jim.

“Mom,” my voice cracks.

She looks up at me, anger causing her to snarl. “What do you want, brat?”

I don’t like it when she calls me that. It makes me feel like nothing I do is ever good enough, and I try so hard to get her to love me. I know she’s going to be angry when I tell her I’m pregnant. But she had me when she was young, so I think she’ll understand. Maybe it’ll make us grow closer.

“I need to talk to you,” I whisper, “alone,” I added as my eyes flicked towards the man in the recliner.

“Whatever you need to say to me you can say in front of Jim,” she sits back, taking a large gulp of beer. “Spit it out. I don’t have all day.”

My eyes squeeze shut. Now I’m wishing I had waited to tell her, to let it sink in more, so I could process it.

I didn’t though, and if I don’t tell her something, she’ll get angry and hit me.

It was foolish of me to think she’d take me into her arms and make it better. She didn’t care about Ivy or me. We were nothing to her, nothing but a burden.

I decide to tell her the truth. After all, that’s why I came out here in the first place.

“I’m pregnant,” I say, choosing not to sugarcoat the words.

Her mouth falls open. “I always knew you’d turn out to be nothing but a slut,” she glares as she looks me up and down.

Her words hurt, but I’ve learned to keep my face void of emotion.

“I’ll take you the clinic and we’ll have that thing taken care of,” she points at my stomach.

“What?” I stumble back, protectively clutching my stomach and the baby residing there.

“For an abortion,” she says unnecessarily.

“No,” I gasp. “I don’t want that. I want to keep it.” I’m shocked that she would even suggest such a thing.

“Honey,” she leans back on the couch, “I’m just trying to save you from my mistake.”

I flinch. She’s talking about me. She’s basically saying she wished someone had been there to tell her to get an abortion.

“I won’t do that,” I say fiercely. I’ll run away before I let her kill my child.

“You could put it up for adoption,” she suggests with a slight chuckle. It amuses her that I’ve made such a colossal mistake.

“No. I won’t do that.”

“What the fuck are you going to do with a child, Rowan?” She tilts her head. “Huh?”

I don’t know. But I do know that I’d rather struggle and have my baby than kill it or hand it over to strangers. Maybe it’s selfish of me, adoption would give the baby a better chance at a happy life, but I want to keep it.

I suddenly feel like I should’ve sucked it up and went to Trent. But my mom’s next words silence those thoughts.

“The way I see it,” she leans forward, “you have two options. Abortion or adoption. Ain’t no way you can raise a child, you’re too dumb for that.” I want to disagree with her and tell her that I basically take care of Ivy, but I know she’ll only have a well-thought out argument for that. “No way is that baby’s daddy going to help you. Teenage boys run from commitment, Rowan. And a baby? That’s a life sentence no boy wants.”

Was she right? She sounded like she was speaking from experience, and I’d basically deduced the same. Trent wouldn’t want to be a dad, and I had school to think about, and with a baby I’d need to get a job to buy it things, and what about college? I wanted to get
out
of here. A baby would keep me trapped in a life like this, a life just like my mom’s.