Page 42 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

Rosie bends down beside him. “You want Mama to help?” He stumbles into her arms, hugging her and smashing his face into her chest. She laughs, squeezing him tight. I see so much love between the two of them. It has my throat closing, wondering how my parents could possibly be so indifferent to me. It’s not like I’ve been sitting by my phone waiting to hear from either of them, but deep down I had expected something by now, but it’s as if I told them I was pregnant and I ceased to exist. “I’m going to have your baby shower invites ready soon,” Rosie says, interrupting my thoughts. “Is there anyone you do or don’t want me to invite?”

I press my lips together and swallow down my emotions. “Don’t invite my parents.”

She hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“I’m really sorry, Bertie.”

If anyone gets it, it’s her. Her parents aren’t nearly as indifferent as mine, but she’s from a wealthy family too so she knows how they operate.

“Don’t be.”

I need to do my best to move past it. Dwelling on it is getting me nowhere.

“I don’t know why it got to me so badly.”

She smooths her fingers through Sammy’s blond hair wearing a wistful expression. “You might’ve expected them to not be happy about it, but deep down you had hoped they’d prove you wrong.”

My mouth pops open.

She’s hit the nail on the head.

“You’re right,” I admit. “I didn’t even realize it until you said it.”

She shrugs. “Our subconscious is a powerful thing.”

My brain keeps tumbling over her words as we hang out at the park. By the time she drops me off at Luke’s I honestly feel loads better about the entire situation.

Luke’s truck is back in the driveway, but his mom’s is still gone.

She works a lot of long hours at the diner. It’s easy to see where Luke gets his work ethic from.

I pass the closed bathroom door on the way to the bedroom. I felt cute when I put on my workout clothes earlier, but now I’m tired of having the tight material against my body. I ease the door shut behind me and yank the bra off over my head.

Oh, sweet relief.

Yanking a sweatshirt off the hanger, I turn for the dresser to grab some cotton shorts.

“Oh, fuck.”

A squeal rips out of me, and I look up to find that the door obviously didn’t latch. I gape, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“I’m sorry,” Luke blurts, eyes glued to my breasts. His Adam’s apple bobs. “Fuck. I—” He looks up at the ceiling, hands on his hips. His tanned arms and chest are on full display, along with the ink on his left arm. I wet my lips as my eyes drift down further to the tiny towel wrapped around his waist. My mouth falls open when I take in his obviously hard dick tenting the towel. Heat pools low in my body. “I didn’t hear you come home,” he says, speaking to the ceiling. “And then the door was open. I didn’t mean to⁠—”

I don’t hear what he says after that because I’m too busy ogling him like I’ve never seen a bare-chested man before. Water clings to the light dusting of hair there. My sweatshirt hangs limply in my hands; hands I desperately want to put on him.

I do my best to ignore my attraction to Luke. We were figuring things out before I got pregnant, but I know Luke, and he’d stick by my side as a boyfriend and more just because of the baby, and I won’t let him make that sacrifice.

Luke lowers his eyes carefully from the ceiling and they dart right back up when he finds that I still haven’t made a move to put a shirt on.

“Bertie…” His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow.

Put your dang shirt on! I silently scold myself, but I can’t seem to get my arms to move, and then, practically all on their own, the words, “Touch me. Please,” comes out of my mouth.

This time Luke’s eyes drop back down and hold mine. “You want me to touch you?”

I bite my lip, but it doesn’t fully quiet the whimper that comes out of me. “Yes.”