Page 38 of Full Out Fiend

“Andrew Adley’s not allowed to step foot inside The Oak,” my brother gripes, pulling out his phone and shooting off a text.

“Yeah, well. He was there. And she left with them. She told me she was pregnant. I told her I would support her however I could. And she left. She fuckingleft.” My voice cracks on the last word—the shame and self-loathing that engulfed me last night washing over me in a fresh wave.

I stomp toward my bathroom, angry with myself for being such a fucking pussy. They both call after me, but I brush them off, slam the door, and lock it for good measure.

I shouldn’t give a shit about a one-night stand. I should be grateful Daphne straight up rejected me and left me alone in that alley.

But I’m not relieved. Not even close.

If anything, when she walked away and chose him over me, it further solidified my desire to help her.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I wish I wasn’t like this. I’d rather chase after something that might not even be mine than be reasonable about the situation.

It’s disgustingly on brand: my most fatal flaw.

If it’s off limits, I want it.

If someone tells me to chill, I amp it all the way up.

I don’t know how to bide my time. I don’t know how to take it easy or hold back.

Dangle the forbidden fruit in front of me, and I’ll stop at nothing until I obtain it. I’ve always been a full out fiend.

Chapter 23

Daphne

Daphne:I’mgoingtoneed a ride to work tomorrow. My first client is at 8—sorry.

I sigh and stash my phone. Serena won’t give me a hard time about it, but I still hate asking for help.

I curl up in the back seat and let my head rest against the cool glass of the window. For once I’m grateful Andy called shotgun.

They’re too worked up to pay me much attention—Andy is busy queuing up video after video of Fielding at a party last summer while Anthony mutters a string of expletives and insults under his breath. They’re just egging each other on at this point. I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.

Andy insisted I watch the first few videos, but once the shock value wore off, he grew tired of passing his phone back to me. They’ve been ignoring me for almost ten minutes now. A quick glance out the window confirms we’re turning onto Haymarket Street—nearly home.

“Wait ’til you see this one,” Andy chirps from the front seat.

I may not be watching the videos anymore, but I still flinch every time the sounds of fists hitting flesh come through the car’s speakers. I refuse to let myself spiral or jump to conclusions.

There are two sides—or more—to every story. I was shocked by the first few videos, but I’ve resolved to not form an opinion or pass judgment until Fielding has a chance to explain.

He’ll have that chance soon. I’ll make sure of it.

When he locked eyes with me earlier and declared his intention to be involved and help in any way possible, I believed him. I still believe him, despite what’s on those videos, and I want to have someone on my side. For the first time in over two weeks, I’m hopeful.

I left with Anthony because I know what he’s capable of. Between his big mouth and his brother’s hot head, there was no way I could have put my foot down without someone getting punched in the face. That someone likely would have been Fielding.

I left to protect him. I’ll text him as soon as I get home. He said he was in. I want to believe him, and this will be his first opportunity to prove he’s up for the challenge of what we’re facing.

From the moment I saw those two pink lines, I knew that if Fielding was even semi-interested in being involved, I wanted him to be for the sake of my child.

My child.

Ourchild.

I’m all but certain it’s Fielding’s. Based on the timing, and the new knowledge that our protection failed. As ridiculous as it sounds, I was almost happy when he told me that the condom broke.