No way could he allow her back in his house. Back into his heart. Or that of his daughters.’ He wished he had been prudent and dated without introducing her to his kids. Then he wouldn’t have to feel like a monster keeping his kids from the beautiful princess. Only he knew she was more like the evil witch.
He gulped at the searing pain in his chest. How could she keep such a secret for thirteen years? She should have told him the moment she found out.
But she didn’t know where you were.
He swatted away the thought like a pesky gnat. That wasn’t the point. She could have waited longer to find him. Tried instead of taking ‘no’ from his family and friends. She had robbed him and he didn’t know if he could ever forgive her. Not the way he felt now. The searing, white-hot anger threatened to consume him.
He padded down the hall toward his bedroom. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Stop seeing the image of her crying as she revealed her secret. Guy laid down and stared up at the ceiling. Still, she filled his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut trying to block her from his mind.
Please, let me sleep, Lord, please.
Slowly, the tension seeped from him and he fell into a restless sleep.
The next morning came all too quickly. His sleep had been labored as he had dream after dream of Michelle and their unborn child. It was like a movie reel, relentless in its image. He rubbed the grit from his eyes and flipped the pancake over on the griddle.
“Papa, can Miz Chelle come ove’ today?”
He sighed. Different day, same request. “No, Jellybean. She’s working.”
Bekah’s lower lip poked out and he felt the stab of his anger. She had done wrong, yet he was the bad guy.
“When will she be home?”
He gritted his teeth at the petulant whine. “I’m not sure, Jellybean.”
“Are you mad at Miz Chelle?” Rachel asked.
He froze, thankful his back was to them. “I’m busy, Peanut.”
“That’s not what I said, Papa.”
He whirled around then froze at the startled look on Rachel’s face. Had he scared her? He put the spatula down, noting the shakiness of his hands. He glanced toward his mother. “Please take over. I’m going to Evan’s house.”
She only nodded as she took his place in front of the griddle.
He made it to Evan’s house in record time. Thankfully, none of his deputies were patrolling the streets. He was pretty sure he sped all the way over.
He jogged up the walk way, impatience making his skin feel tight. Dread pooled within him as he waited for Evan to answer his ring of the doorbell. Guy counted out sixty seconds, knowing it would take Evan awhile to make it to the door.
Finally, the door opened. Evan looked at him, confusion wrinkling his brow. “G man, what’s wrong?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“Sure.” He backed up, allowing room for him to pass through.
He headed for the living room, sinking into the leather furniture.
He waited as Evan lowered himself and leaned the crutches against the recliner. “What’s got you wound up?”
He leaned on his elbows, resting them on his knees. “Michelle and I had an argument.” He snorted. “I don’t even know if you could call it that. She came over to help me paint the girls’ room. Then she told me she needed to talk.”
He squeezed his eyes closed at the memory. “You would have thought warning bells would have sounded then, but I was oblivious.” He swallowed. “I dated her our senior year. I know I didn’t tell you, but...”
“I knew.”
Guy stared at his friend, shock zinging down his system. “You knew?”
“Yeah. I saw you guys at the lake one day. I figured you had your reasons for not saying anything.”
He let out a huff of air. “I did. What you don’t know is...is we consummated our relationship.” He rushed on, refusing to look his friend in the face. “Then the other day she drops a bombshell on me. Tells me she got pregnant from that one time, and then had an abortion.”
This time, Guy turned to study his friend’s face, hoping Evan would sympathize with him. His shoulders sagged as Evan’s eyes darkened with sympathy and the corners of his mouth turned downward. He nodded. “I know, shocker, right?”
Guy ran a hand over the back of his neck. “She tried to give me some excuses, but honestly, Ev, I’m so mad I can’t see straight. I can’t eat, think, sleep. Everywhere I turn I see her crying and giving me her lame excuses.”
He got up, and began pacing back and forth. “And my mom has the nerve to be sympathetic? You’d think she’d be horrified that Michelle killed her grandchild. My child. I never got to object or have any say in the matter.”
He whirled around wondering why Evan had yet to speak. He stopped. Guess he forgot to shut up long enough. He made his way back to the sofa and sat down. “What do you think? Help me out here, man, I’m going crazy.”
“When did she find out?”
“A month after graduation.”
Evan frowned at him. “How far along was she? I mean, when did you guys...uh, how often...”
His friend stopped talking, a look of unease on his face.
“It was just one time. The evening she found out her parents were...the night they died. She was upset and before I knew it, it was over. I felt ill. Like I had taken advantage of her and the situation. So I left.”
“And she had no way to contact you.”
Why did everyone bring that back up? Was that an excuse to do the unthinkable? Did that give her a right to make a major decision like that?
“Look, I can see you’re getting upset, G. I’m not trying to minimize anything you’re feeling. But think about what she went through. No parents. Her boyfriend left without a goodbye. What
