Crashed

But it never comes.

He stands in the middle of us, motionless, lost in thoughts I can only imagine. The playful man I love from last night is nonexistent. I can see the cogs in his head turning, notice the wince of pain that I’m sure is from another headache hitting him … but if he’s completely frozen, then I’m fucking paralyzed.

Tawny’s eyes flicker over and assess me with complete disregard, before looking back at Colton, a soft smile on her face. “You drove me home from Davis’ house, asked to come in … we had sex, Colton. The first time we were drunk … desperate to be with each other again and didn’t use a condom.”

And if her dagger isn’t already breaking skin and pushing into my heart, she has to add the notion that they were together multiple times to twist it a little deeper.

“Before … when we dated before…” he clears his throat “…you used to be religious about taking your pill.” I don’t recognize his voice, and I’ve been on the receiving end of Colton’s wrath, but right now the absolute contempt in his tone sends shivers up my spine.

“I wasn’t on the pill,” she says softly with an unapologetic shrug as she takes a step toward him, the possible mother of his child. The gentle intimacy in her tone causes tears to spring in my eyes. She reaches out to touch Colton’s arm and he yanks it out of her reach.

His reaction and the unfettered panic in his eyes causes the reality of this all to begin to seep through my denial, the possibility that this isn’t a ploy to merely get him back.

I sag against the wall behind me, my ghosts and inadequacies as a woman threatening to rear their ugly head. I place a hand on my abdomen to stifle the pang I feel in my useless womb. The one that will forever remain empty. The one that can’t give him the only thing she can. I feel the beginnings of a panic attack—breath laboring, heart racing, eyes unable to focus—as I wonder if the man who professes to never want kids just might change his mind when faced with the possibility of one. It happens all the time. And if it does, then where does that leave us? Leave me? The woman who can’t give him that.

“No!” It falls from my lips in response to my silent thoughts.

Colton whips around to look at me quickly, distress etched in his features at my unexpected words. And then she snorts out in disregard and adds gasoline to Colton’s fire.

“Get out!” He shouts so loudly I jump, and for a moment, because he’s facing me, I fear that he’s speaking to me. I force a swallow, his eyes flicking over me before he turns his back to me and points toward Tawny and then the door. “Get. The. Fuck. Out!”

“Colty …”

“Don’t you ever call me that!” he yells, grated steel in his voice as he raises his eyes to look toward where she’s not moved an inch. “No one gets to call me that! Do you think you’re special? Do you think you can just waltz in here and tell me you’re five fucking months pregnant? That I’d care? Why are you telling me now, huh? Because it’s too late for me to have a say in anything, so you think you’ve trapped me? Found your golden fucking ticket?” He begins to pace, lacing his fingers behind his head and blowing out a loud breath. “I’m not Willy fucking Wonka, sweetheart. Go find yourself another sugar daddy.”

“You don’t believe me?”

Colton whirls around in a flash, his gaze meeting mine and the void in his expressionless eyes startles me. Dead eyes look at me momentarily before he breaks our connection and strides back across the room to where Tawny still stands. “You’re goddamn right I don’t believe you. Quit the crap and get the fuck out with your bullshit lies.” He’s inches from her face, eyes glaring, and posture threatening.

“But I still love—”

“You don’t get to love me!” he bellows, fist slamming down on the sideboard next to him, vases rattling and noise resonating in the otherwise quiet of the house. Tawny lets out a sob and Colton remains completely unaffected by her outburst of emotion. “You don’t get to love me,” he repeats again so quietly that I can hear his pain beneath it, feel the desperation roll off of him in waves.

He reaches up and rubs his hands over his face. He looks out the window for a moment toward the tranquility of the ocean as I watch the storm rage inside of him. I’m rocked in the turbulence of his emotions without a lifeline to hold on to. When he looks back at Tawny, I can see so many emotions behind his slipping mask that I’m unsure which one he is going to grab and hold onto.

“I want a paternity test.”

Tawny gasps, her hand resting protectively over her belly, but when I look back up to her face, I watch the transformation happen. I see the damsel in distress morph into the vindictive vixen. “This baby is yours, Colton. I don’t sleep around.”

Colton snorts a laugh with a shake of his head. “Yeah, you’re a regular patron fuckin’ saint.” He stalks to the front door and turns back to look at her. “Go tell it to some other gullible son of a bitch who cares. My lawyer will be in touch.”

“You’re gonna have to come at me with something a hell of a lot bigger than threatening me with your attorney to get out of this one,” she says, straightening her spine. “Get your checkbook ready and your ego prepared for some serious damage, sweetheart!”

“Did you actually think you could just waltz in here, drop your bullshit bomb, and I’d take your word for it? Write you off with a hefty check or marry you and ride off into the motherfucking sunset?” His voice thunders. “It’s. Not. Mine!”