Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 103(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 69(@300wpm)
I went back downtown and found a job at a bar. The tips are good, and if people are gossiping about my dad, at least I can’t hear them over the loud music. For the most part, I keep to myself. There’s a few other waitresses that have been nice to me, but I avoid all men.
To this day, there’s a part of me that wonders if I should go and track him down. But then the other part of me thinks that if he really wanted to get back together with me, he would've made it happen. He would've left me some kind of note or some kind of message. He knew where I lived. The phone calls stopped. The text messages stopped. Everything stopped. And I can’t help but imagine that he’s moved on.
I'm sure by now he's already settled into Whiskey Run, and he's probably found a woman to occupy his time. So I stay here in Texas, living with my uncle and going to work day in and day out.
I walk toward the bar and set my tray on the top. I’ve been feeling off today, and the feeling comes and goes.
“What can I get you?” the bartender asks.
I try to recall the order I’ve just taken. “Two shots of tequila, two Long Island iced teas, and a large order of nachos, extra jalapeño,” I tell him with a scrunched-up nose.
He winks at me, but I pretend not to notice.
He walks away, and I take the opportunity to slide my foot out of my shoe and flex my toes. My legs, feet, and back are all killing me, even worse than normal. A couple of minutes go by, and he is loading my tray.
I get one whiff of the chili and jalapeños and know I’m going to throw up. I put my hand over my mouth and run off toward the bathroom, leaving the tray behind. I barely make it to the bathroom and I’m heaving into the toilet. The women that were standing at the sinks all squeal and rush out the door. I don’t know how long I throw up, but by the end of it, I’m sitting on the dirty floor with my arms crossed over the seat of the toilet.
I rest my head on my arms and lay it there, waiting on the room to stop spinning.
I hear my name being called, but I don’t dare lift my head up. I reach my hand up and flush the toilet. “I’m fine. I just got sick,” I call out to Tabby.
She partially opens the door and sticks her head around. “You okay? Need anything?”
“Ugh.” I groan as I flush the toilet again and start to stand up. “No, I don’t know what happened. The smell of the nachos got to me and—"
I barely get to my feet, and Tabby announces, “You’re pregnant.”
“I am not,” I reply instantly.
But just as soon as I say it, I start to think about it and try to remember when my last period was, and sure enough, it’s been a while. “No!” I say, shaking my head at the same time Tabby is smiling, nodding at me. I lean over the sink and rinse my mouth out before looking at myself in the mirror. I’m pale and look exhausted. I clench my eyes closed because I just am realizing that I’m pregnant, and I left my baby’s daddy.
I turn to Tabby, who is now looking at me with sympathy. “Shit, what do I do?”
She rubs her hand up and down my arm. “Well, first of all, you take a test. After that, you figure out what you want to do.”
I put my hand to my belly and look in the mirror. I don’t have to think about it. This baby is part of me and Diesel. There’s no way I’m giving it up. No; I just have to find a way to tell him that he’s going to be a dad.
Chapter 13
Diesel
It's been four months, and there hasn’t been any word from Brandy. I've given up on texting and calling her because she hasn’t answered any of my phone calls. Even the messages were all left on unread. The only connection that I have with her is the phone calls that I make to her uncle. He doesn't give me any information ever, but at least it's soothing to be able to talk to him. I'm sure that if there was something wrong, he would at least tell me that. At least he promised me he would.
In our many conversations, we've talked about a number of different things. And it's then that I learned about his deceased wife. It seems like he and Brandy have both had a lot of loss in their lives. And it makes me understand her even more, why she handled the shooting the way she did. I still regret the way I handled everything, but if I can get her to talk to me, I think I can make it right.