Page 101 of When Sky Breaks
He nods and trudges away, making my heart squeeze with worry. It doesn’t matter anymore about our past. He’s my brother, and he needs me.
Once I’m in the office, I squat down in front of the filing cabinet. I comb through the files. There’s one for everything. Doctor visits, all the household bills, life insurance, one for Trek and I, then two that give me pause. An uneasiness grips my throat. One is labeled Dannie Winters, and another that sours my stomach.
I grab both and the yellow file, nerves battling with my conscience. It’s probably nothing I don’t already know.
Short of breath, I open my door and place the folders on my desk quickly, as if they’ve burned me. I can’t read them now, not with Trek wanting to talk and Foster waiting.
Maybe just a peek? No. A peek will ultimately lead to a deep dive down a rabbit hole I’m not sure I’m ready to explore.
Forming a fake but convincing smile, I bounce back into the kitchen and plop the yellow file in front of Foster. “Here you go.”
“Thank you. I promise I won’t work too hard on this, but I can’t sit in bed all day long. It kills my back, and I get annoyed.”
I rub his shoulder and give him a peck on his bald head. We helped him shave it before the clumps came out. We may have cried and mourned his thick locks falling to the bathroom floor, but hair is nothing compared to his life.
“Just know I’m here to help if you need it, and Trek too. Take breaks. Please?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He salutes me with a grin, and I give him one back before escaping down the hall.
Out of sight, I drop my shoulders. I really want to read those files.
But Trek first. He’s been off the last couple of weeks and it appears he’s ready to spill whatever’s eating at him. I’m glad we’re at this point in our relationship—being able to talk to each other. It’s nice having my brother back.
I knock before pushing open his door. Trek’s curled over his desk, his head in his hands.
“Hey,” I say softly and sit down on the edge of his bed.
He looks up, his eyes wide with worry. Standing, he shuts the door before sitting next to me. “How much do you know about babies?”
I twist on the bed and stare at him. “What? Babies? A lot, considering I work with them.”
“Right. Um, well, it takes nine months for a woman to have one, typically, right?”
What the actual hell?
“Yes,” I drawl out. It was more of a question than a statement.
He fidgets with his fingers.
“Trek, what’s going on?” What he’s about to tell me blooms in my mind, but I need to hear it from him.
“Hazy—Hazel is pregnant.” He blows out a huge breath and laces his hands on the top of his head before dropping them to his lap.
“What?” I screech and slap my hands over my mouth before I alert Foster that something is wrong.
“Shhh. Damnit, I don’t want Dad to know until I figure out what’s going on myself.”
“You got your—our—former teacher pregnant?”
“If you mean did I stick my co?—”
Murderous intent in my eyes, I silence his words with a slice across my neck. “I don’t need those kinds of details. How far along is she?”
He shrugs, looking rather helpless. “She goes to the doctor next week. She thinks maybe eight weeks. We’ve been seeing each other for about three months, so it checks out.”
“You’re going to her appointment, aren’t you?”
“She isn’t sure she wants me there.” He slouches and digs his palms into his eyes.