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“Shit,” I muttered when the first tear slipped down her cheek.
A heartbeat later, she sank on the picnic table, dropped her head in her hands, and started crying. Her shoulders shook, and I stared at the sky because me and crying women were never, ever a good combination.
I eased myself down into a crouch in front of her and gently patted her shoulder while she purged all the things she must have been holding in while I was gone.
“I didn’t know what to do, Jax,” she said, lifting her head, making no effort to wipe the wetness off her face. “You were gone, and I wasn’t going to tell them it was you when I couldn’t even tellyouit was you. And I had that date that night, you know? They all assumed it was him.”
“Oh great, so they think the father is the banker douche who got stabbed in the hand?”
Poppy’s eyes flashed, the spark of anger so hot that I almost backed away. “What other option did I have? I couldn’t tell them the truth! I couldn’t tell them it was you before you came home. And I didn’t know you were back. You think I wanted you to find out this way?” My hand was still awkwardly patting her shoulder, and she smacked it away,standing to pace the small area in front of the picnic table. “Stop patting me. I’m not a little kid.”
Because I wanted to keep my limbs intact, I stood a safe distance away and let her unload.
“I was going to wait for Cameron or Greer to tell me you were home, and I was going to call you,” she said on a frustrated rush. “And then, then I could finally tell you and move on because I’d know for sure if you didn’t want to be involved or?—”
“Why would I not want to be involved?” I interjected.
That stopped her short. Her hair was a mess, the ponytail from earlier had slipped out of its tie, the dark hair falling over her shoulder while she gaped at me. “You do?”
“You thought I’d make you do it alone?” I asked.
“I don’t want a girlfriend, I don’t want a wife, I don’t want a family,” she tossed back at me, eyes still blazing. “I don’t want afamily, you said. Your exact words. So no, I wasn’t assuming anything. For all I knew, you’d hear the news and bounce the hell out of town, never to be seen again,” she said in a wobbling voice. “Lord knows you do it enough.”
My skin was crawling. Anger and frustration and regret on a sickening loop in my head.
“Fuck,” I ground out, kicking at a small rock by my feet. “Yes, I said that, but?—”
“Do not tell me you didn’t mean it because I know better than that,” she said hotly. “Iknowyou, Jax Cartwright. Don’t pretend I don’t. I walked into your house that night with my eyes wide open.” Poppy covered her face with her hands. When she dropped them, the look in her eyes about did me in, carving my chest hollow. “You don’t get to be mad at how I handled this, okay? You were gone, and I did my best.”
How ugly it was to face the consequences of all your choices like this. For years, I refused to put too much thought into why I avoided serious relationships. Even semi-serious.
If I tried hard enough, I could still hear my mom chatteron and on about how she’d find someone to take care of her. Take care of us. She never did, but the absence of that person felt like a giant fucking shadow over our entire life.
And I’d become someone who, understandably, couldn’t be relied on.
I came and went as I pleased, and never, ever let myself get in a position where my actions might cause disappointment.
Look at how well I did there.
“I know you did, Poppy,” I said. “But you have to give me a chance to catch up here, okay? I’m a little…” I clawed for the right word. “Thrown.”
The rigid tension in her shoulders deflated, and the spark of heat died from her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry. I really didn’t want this to happen in front of an audience.”
“Your sister might murder me the next time I turn my back.”
Poppy’s mouth lifted in a wry grin. A tiny one, but it was there. “No, she won’t. I won’t let her.”
“You gonna protect me now?”
“No one messes with the pregnant sister, trust me. Not even Greer.” She smoothed a hand over her small bump. “I have the ultimate trump card here.”
My eyes locked in on that movement, and my chest thumped uncomfortably. There were a million things to discuss, details that wouldn’t even cross my mind until I’d had more time to process this. But that, that tiny person inside her wasn’t a discussion point. Wasn’t one of a million details.
It was my child.
Ourchild.
“Do you … do you know what it is yet?”
