Filthy English

Eva-Maria took the seat next to me. “Are you okay?”

“What happened to the baby?” I pushed out, feeling out of breath.

She lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know—but she met Hartford soon after that.”

I leaned my head back against the wall, trying to get under control.

She said, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but at least you don’t have to deal with Remi and kid for the rest of your life. Can you imagine?” She laughed.

My eyes flew open. “Never say her name again. If you see her coming, turn around and walk the fuck away. Leave her alone.”

Red rose in her cheeks. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.” She smiled uncertainly. “It’s obvious you’re wound up. Word among the sisters is you aren’t very accommodating these days.” Her eyes ghosted over my crotch.

A muscle twitched near my eye. My lips went flat. “I’m one step away from calling a meeting and getting you kicked out of the house. Now, get out of my sight and don’t come back to my brother’s gym.”

She whitened. “Dax. I’m sorry—”

“Get out.”

She licked her lips, sent me a final look, turned, and left the gym.

For half an hour, I sat in that seat, twisting different scenarios and outcomes from three years ago around in my head. I recalled every single moment I’d seen her.

But nothing—nothing hinted at her being pregnant.

Obviously, the baby never came unless she’d hidden it under baggy clothes and delivered in May, which would make sense if she’d gotten pregnant in September.

God.

I rubbed my face.

Did her mom have the baby?

Had she given it up for adoption? Abortion?

And Hartford—he wouldn’t have dated a pregnant Remi.

Wait. Would he? Did he love her that much?

Why not?

You’d do it too if the baby wasn’t yours. You love Remi.

My spine went ramrod straight from where I’d been slumped over the chair, raking my hands through my hair. Goosebumps rose over my skin.

That was not true.

Yet how did I explain my reaction to her and Hartford at the hotel? Why did I give a fuck if she was back with him? Why had I wanted her to live with me?

Right there in the foyer of Front Street Gym, I picked my life apart, digging deep for the bones I never let anyone see, even Declan.

I’d been a player for four years—further if you went back to high school. For years, I’d been a master at drifting in and out of girls’ beds and lives, each girl a dance of one step forward and two steps back. I pushed real relationships away and had never looked back. Yet when Remi shut that door in my face three years ago, I’d fucking flinched—because the naïve boy in me who’d believed in love had craved her. My gut had seen something that weekend, our connection a live wire so hot that I knew if I took hold of it, I’d be fried.

In my head that day, I’d wanted to chase her down the Tau hall and drag her back like a Neanderthal. I’d wanted to tell her she was weird as shit, but in a good way that got me hot.

You should have, my heart said.

But I didn’t.

Self-preservation had kicked in, protecting me from being demolished. Maybe she’d figure out how shallow I was or that I’d barely passed Geometry. She’d leave me for someone with a bigger brain. Like Hartford.

Maybe she’d die like Mum.

My hands clenched.

Fuck that.

No matter what, I never wanted that awful feeling again when you lose someone, like an SUV has been dropped off a skyscraper straight onto your chest.

But this baby thing?

I had to get to the bottom of it. I had to know what happened; what she went through.

If it had been mine.

Fuck that. You know it was yours, my heart told me. She wasn’t the kind of girl who slept with random guys one after another. You’d been her exception.

MY MOM FOLLOWED Malcolm and me as we left her house and headed out to my car. She was mostly a good mom and wanted the best for me, but her micromanaging had driven a wedge between us over the years.

She tsked from behind me. “Your hair looks like it’s on fire. What will your professors think? Don’t forget you still need recommendations for Duke next year.”

I sighed. She’d been picking at me on and off since I’d arrived at the house to pick up Malcolm.

Flip-flops? Really?

You’re getting chunky.

I can’t believe you’re living with a man you barely know.

Oh, I definitely knew him.

Wonder what she’d think if I showed her my Union Jack tattoo? Probably have a heart attack then drag me down to the doctor’s office to have it lasered off.

However—she had done something wonderful for me, and I attempted to keep that in mind rather than her harping.

While I’d been in London, she’d demanded a meeting with the manager of the hotel where my wedding had been planned and somehow convinced them to give me back my ten-grand deposit. Go, Mom. Like me, she was tenacious and once she’d set her mind to something, you could be damn sure she wasn’t going to give up.

She’d told me the good news as soon as I’d arrived back from London. I’d hugged her hard and for a long time. With most of my tuition paid for with a scholarship, that money would come in handy for living expenses. Of course, Hartford had offered to pay my expenses this fall—especially since he was part of the reason I had those issues—but it had felt wrong. I wanted to do this on my own, and having the money back that I’d saved from waiting tables meant something big. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">