Page 33 of Beautiful Trauma

“Only one.”

“Please tell me it’s not that douche, Carl.”

“Carl isn’t a douche. But no, it’s not him.” I could tell he was upset but trying to keep from losing his cool for my benefit. “It’s so much worse, Eli.” I buried my face in his chest.

“We’ll figure this shit out. Come on. Let’s get back in bed.” He tucked us both under the covers, spooning me. “It’s gonna be fine, Katie. I got you,” he whispered into my hair.

I sniffled and pulled his arms around me tighter. “What the hell am I going to tell my parents? My father is going to kill me.” Not to mention my sister will hate me. My body shook as I cried in Eli’s arms. Everything was a mess. What the hell had I been thinking?

“Who is the father?”

“I don’t want to talk about that. He doesn’t matter. He will not be around.”

“You sound pretty sure of that.”

“Because I am. He doesn’t matter.” There’s no way Mason Davis’s future would be tainted with my pregnancy. His family and mine would never allow it.

“Just tell them it’s me.”

I turned to face him. “What?”

“I’m serious. If you want to keep this baby, tell them I’m the father. No-one has to know any differently. Hell, it’s not even that far fetched. There were rumors all the time about us.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Eli. That’s crazy.”

“You know I’d do anything for you.” He ran his hand along my arm and tipped his forehead to mine. “Name it, and I’ll do it. Tell me how to help you.”

I tucked my face in his chest and cried. I didn’t deserve his loyalty or friendship, but I needed him to hold me and tell me it was all going to be okay.

And he did. For hours, he held me, promising me everything would be fine until I fell asleep. If I had known just how serious he was and how much he and Wyatt would need each other, I would’ve done it. I would’ve told everyone that Eli was the father of my baby. But I didn’t want to bring him down with my mistakes. Especially since he’d worked so hard to get and stay sober and turn his life around. Saddling him with a kid that wasn’t his would’ve been selfish.

But he has been there every day. Sometimes not physically, since I lived in Maine for a while, but we talked every single day. And every single day, he promised me he’d do anything I needed.

He never once let me down.

Now:

“And yet, you still weren’t with this guy.” Sergio shook his head in disbelief. “Like, I haven’t heard any confessions of love or talk of more kissing.”

I rolled my eyes and grumbled, “So sorry to disappoint you with the facts. It was a slow burn.”

“What the hell took so long? You told me that your relationship is new. Wyatt is almost three. He wanted to marry you before Wyatt was even born.”

I threw my hands up, exasperated. “I’m not the best at seeing what’s right in front of my face. We didn’t get together until seven months after you and I hooked up.”

“There’s no way I would’ve waited around for you that long. He put himself out there in a big way, more than once, and you just let the poor guy dangle.”

“Oh, please. You’re addicted to romance novels. I know when you find the one, you’ll fall first and chase her to the ends of the earth.”

He chuckled. “It’s not my style to chase. I’ll just be there. Like a rash.”

Nineteen

The second night I was with the band was a night off. Sergio and I sat in the parked bus, not doing anything of note, just scrolling through our phones.

“Let’s go out,” Serge suggested, tossing an empty wrapper at me.

My eyes widened. “Out? Where?”