Page 66 of Easy On Me

My lids flew open, dread settling dead center of my chest. Had she changed her mind? It hadn’t seemed like it the night before, her legs around my hips while I thrust into her but—

“Oh my God.” She scrambled from the bed, a hand over her mouth, and dashed for the bathroom. The awful retching followed moments later, and I winced. She hadn’t been sick much, especially since she was through the first trimester, but when she was, she was sick.

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I followed, relief warring with concern.

“Baby, I'm sorry.” Hunkering beside her, I held her hair back, rubbing her neck with my other hand. Her body shook with each heave, and I pressed my forehead to her shoulder. I hated seeing her sick or upset.

I stayed with her until it passed, then handed her water to rinse while I brushed a warm, damp cloth over her face. We'd figured out quick that brushing her teeth right after made it worse, but water was okay.

Cupping her jaw, I rubbed my thumb over her cheek. “I'm gonna get you some ginger ale. Toast or crackers?”

“Crackers.” With a grimace, she dried her mouth and moved toward the door. “Do we have any grapes?”

“Yeah.” Those seemed to help, so I kept them on hand just in case. I followed her up the hall toward the kitchen. “Of course.”

In the kitchen, I poured her a glass of ginger ale and grabbed the grapes while she rummaged for the crackers. Once she was set up at the table, I started a pot of coffee and my own breakfast.

Watching butter melt in the cast iron skillet, I let myself touch on what needed to be done. Elizabeth loved to avoid anything hard and she was mad. I couldn't count on her to set up the paternity test – which I needed because I couldn't count on her, period – so I'd need a lawyer.

I cracked a couple of eggs, whites turning opaque in the hot butter. I glanced sideways at Tyler, who had one foot tucked under her in the chair while she took cautious sips of soda.

“I need a lawyer. You know, to navigate my way through this.” I didn't want to speak out loud what this was. She was with me, but I didn’t want to jinx anything either. Might be a minute before I could let myself relax. “I'll call Scott Barlow, see how fast I can get in to see him.”

Tyler paused, glass halfway to her lips. She set it down. “About that.”

With a quizzical look at her, I flipped my eggs and waited.

“So I, um, talked to him the other day after I spent the night at Maggie's.” She seemed uncomfortable, her gaze darting up to mine then away. Her mouth thinned to a tight line before she met my eyes again, defiance lighting hers. “My initial reaction was to divorce you.”

Butter splattered on my wrist, not stinging as much as those words. I nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

It wasn't, but what could I say? Shit, that meant I'd have to find another lawyer and he was the only one I knew. Anybody else would be Daddy's age—

“I'll call him once his office opens.” Tyler's quiet voice interrupted my jumpy thoughts. “Tell him it's okay to take you on as a client.”

With another nod, I flipped my eggs onto a plate, my appetite decimated. Pretty sure if I tried to eat that, I'd be the one hugging the toilet.

“Really, he'll be taking us on as clients.” Again, Tyler drew my attention. She shrugged, a tentative smile playing about her lips. “Because we're in this together.”

The spatula clattered on the counter. I came around the island to where she sat and hit my knees next to her chair all over again. Arms around her, I buried my face against her neck. With a soft laugh, a little shaky but real, she filtered her fingers through my hair.

And for the first time in days, since Elizabeth had shown up in that muddy field and sent my life sideways, I let myself breathe.

By the time I made it to Scott Barlow's office, I was filthy. Hannah gave me the onceover, but didn’t say anything. She’d been around farming long enough to know it was hard, dirty work. I’d knocked off as much dust and dirt as I could and my hands were clean, but the smell of fresh-turned soil and diesel clung to me.

Scott didn’t bat an eye, simply waved me to one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. He was a year older than me, kind of an ass, but he was good people.

“So I have a little idea what’s going on after talking to your wife the other day.” He flipped to a fresh page on his legal pad then flicked a sharp glance at me. “Want to tell me the whole thing?”

I cleared my throat, back of my neck burning. He had to see messier stuff than this all the time — I mean he’d handled Shane’s side of his and Krista’s divorce and he'd probably been Tick Calvert’s lawyer when he discovered he had a little girl he didn't know about since they were buddies – but this was my life we were talking about. Hatcher men were known to be reliable, good husbands and fathers, and look at the mess I was in.

“Elizabeth's pregnant.” I learned forward, hands linked, elbows braced on my knees. I fiddled with my wedding band, twisting it around my finger. “She says I'm the father.”

“That possible?”

I lifted my head to meet his impassive gaze. “We were together eight years, so yeah.”

He jotted something down, lips pursed on a low whistle. “Man, what were you thinking?”