Page 45 of A Little Secret
“You should get rid of it.”
I jerk back, convinced that if he would’ve slapped me, it would’ve hurt less. His calloused words. The sharp indifference. Hell, indifference is too kind of a description. No, this guy isn’t indifferent. He’s making his stance very clear, but even then, I’m so blindsided I can’t fathom it. Can’t grasp his words and how much weight is in them.
“W-what?”
“I said you should get rid of it,” he pushes. “I’m not ready to be a dad. You’re clearly not someone who should have a kid?—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I reach for the desk, steadying myself as my legs threaten to give out.
“You said so yourself,” he pushes. “You had a seizure because of the pregnancy. This could be dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“What if the baby gets it?” he argues. “It’s genetic, right?”
It.
I blink slowly in hopes of staving off the waves of dizziness threatening to take me under. “I’m sorry. Are we talking about my epilepsy?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” He shakes his head and waves his hands around the room like a crazy person. “You got it from your mom.”
“So?”
“So, what if the baby gets it?”
“Gets it?” I scoff. “It’s not like an illness you can contract, okay? Besides, just because it can be genetic doesn’t mean anything. Everett doesn’t have epilepsy.”
“Yeah, but you do!” He stops in his tracks and faces me, his expression twisting with resentment and fear and…disgust. “What if it has it, too?” He waves his hand toward my stomach. “Do you have any idea how expensive it could be?”
My hands find my belly on their own. Like, subconsciously, I'm trying to protect their feelings. Their well-being in general, now that I think about it. But the strangest part of all of this? It’s the fact that I’m speechless. I’ve never been speechless. But now that I’m here, standing in front of a person I thought I loved, thought I could buildmy life with, and he has the audacity to think something so vile, let alone say it out loud? To me? Someone he’s supposed to love and cherish and fucking worship? I’m so blindsided I don’t even know how to respond.
Shaking off my stupor, I ask, “I, uh, I’m sorry, but are you seriously thinking about money right now?”
“Of course, I’m thinking about the money!” he yells. “Kids are expensive, Finley! Add in one with your fucked-up genes, and, and I’m out. You need to get rid of?—”
Burning hits my palm, and Drew’s face snaps to the side before I register what just happened. I look down at my shaking hand, then back at the palm-shaped red mark on his face. I’ve slapped a person or two in my life, but it’s never been so…instinctual. Like an out of body experience, and instead of the familiar shred of guilt accompanying the action, all I feel is…more rage as I stare at the sniveling man in front of me.
“In case it isn’t clear, we’re through,” I announce. “I will not be getting rid of the baby, but trust me when I say they will never know your name, and they will never owe you anything. Not a single Father’s Day card. Not a single moment. Not a single thought.” I step closer, looking down on Drew’s sorry ass as he cradles his flaming cheekbone. “Goodbye, Drew.”
Turning on my heel, I leave his room, ignore his friends’ curious stares, and race out of the dorm. My heart thrums in my chest so hard I swear I can hear it as I cling to the railing, forcing my breathing to steady so I don’t pass out from lack of oxygen. I can’t believe he said those things to me. That he blamed my genes? That he told me to get rid of our child? God, he’s so disgusting. Bile claws up my throat as if my body’s rejecting the idea of ever being touched by that selfish sonofabitch. My fingers dig into the cold, metal railing, and I close my eyes. Howcould he say those things? How could he think those things let alone say them? The world feels like it’s spinning faster than a top. I mean, it is, but normally, I’m used to it. Right now? Right now, I seriously want to puke. I wobble on my feet, my legs mimicking Jell-O, when a strong arm wraps around my waist and tugs me into a warm side.
It’s Griffin. I smell him before I see him. Sandalwood and the ocean and a warm summer breeze.
Peeking up at him, I open my mouth to tell him I’m fine, but he only shakes his head. “Are you okay?”
I look down at my shaking hands. “I, uh, I hit him.”
“I heard.” My gaze snaps to his, and he explains, “Window was open. If I knew the code to get into the building, I would’ve decked him myself. Fuck, Fin.” He rubs his hand along my arm. “He had no right to say any of that shit to anyone, let alone someone he’s supposed to love.”
The familiar burn behind my eyes hits with full force as I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from falling. “You know, I was thinking the exact same thing.” Epilepsy is a bitch in more ways than I’ll ever be able to actually articulate. The medicine. The unknowns. The recoveries. The way it affects even the smallest of decisions. But knowing someone who was supposed to love me unconditionally would have the audacity to throw it in my face and make me feel like an unfit parent is the lowest of blows.
Fighting the urge to collapse and cry, I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at the maple tree on the opposite side of the street. Its bare branches sway in the gentle breeze. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from…everything.
“He’s an ass, Fin.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” Griff growls. “That sonofabitch would be lucky to share a fucking Uber with you, let alone a kid.”