Page 45 of Full Out Fiend
“We’ll be outside. If you’re gonna go upstairs and bone, don’t do it on the balcony where we can hear.”
Maddie rolls her eyes and gives me a pointed look. Dem’s cheeks turn red with rage. Daphne probably thinks I’m teasing them, but in reality, I knowa lotof sordid details about their sex life courtesy of one or both of them getting drunk and oversharing. The balcony off Dem’s wing of the house is one of their favorite places to get it on.
We head out to the patio, and I inhale the moment we step into the fresh air. It’s August, but the nights are finally getting cooler, and there’s a crisp, clean scent in the evening. Summer is holding on to its final days, but fall is definitely coming.
“Do you want to sit and talk? Or go on a walk?”
“Where would we walk? Up and down your long-ass driveway?”
I smirk at her sass. It really is an obnoxiously long driveway.
“There’s a trail through the woods this way,” I explain, nodding toward the path just barely visible from our backyard. “Our property backs up to the Cuyahoga Valley National Park. It’s an even path, and we don’t have to go far. It’s a really nice, secluded trail. But only if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it.”
We walk quietly for several minutes, finding our footing and maintaining a comfortable pace as we make our way along the trail, side by side. I focus on the song of the birds and the distant sound of traffic from the two-lane highway that runs parallel to this section of the park.
The peace doesn’t keep as my anxiety nags at me to break the silence. We have a lot of ground to cover. I clear my throat and start with the basics.
“When did you find out you’re pregnant?”
“Just a few days after my period was late. My back was burning at work—I’m an esthetician at a salon, so I’m on my feet all day. But everything just hurt worse than usual, and typically when my period’s late, I don’t have any PMS symptoms at all.”
“And what you said last night… about the timing, with me?”
She peers over at me, rolls her lips, and nods.
“You make the most sense. I’ve had abnormal periods in the past, but even extending the window of when I could have ovulated, I’m almost positive the baby is yours. I looked up paternity testing—we can get it done as early as seven weeks. It’s a blood draw for me and a cheek swab for you.”
Shit. Why didn’t I think of that?
“It’s accurate that early?” I marvel, not because I don’t believe her. I just wasn’t aware that option even existed. I make a mental note to look up the details about the procedure on the school research database.
“Supposedly it’ll either show zero percent chance of paternity or ninety-nine percent-plus. I feel like ninety-nine percent is probably good enough, don’t you think?”
The quiver in her voice makes me trip over my next step.Shit. I wasn’t doubting her or questioning her integrity. I’m not looking for an out. If the test says it’s mine, then it’s mine.
I really fucking want it to be mine.
“Absolutely. Everything I said to you last night… that’s all still true, Daphne. I want to help. I want to be there for you. I want to be in this baby’s life. You can count on me, I swear.”
She slows her steps, and I shorten my stride to match her pace.
“That’s nice to hear, but those are just words. I don’t know you, Fielding. I appreciate everything you said last night, but your actions spoke louder. You didn’t respond to any of my texts. I sent five. That’s, like, stalker-level texting. Then, when I showed up this afternoon, you seemed…”
“Hungover and pissed off?” I supply.
She gawks at me, wide-eyed. I know how I acted when she showed up today, and I won’t pretend that I wasn’t being a dick. I was in defense mode.
“When you walked out of that alley last night, when you left withhimand walked away fromme, I texted my brother in a panic. Then I came home and got drunk off my ass.”
I don’t give her time to respond. There’s nothing she could criticize about my behavior that I haven’t already said to myself.
“I know my reaction was immature and stupid. But I felt so fucking helpless. In my defense, I thought I wasn’t going to see you again. I thought… I thought that even though you were pregnant with my baby, you picked him.”
We’re both silent for a few breaths, the natural hum of the forest and the tiny bits of gravel crunching beneath our feet the only sounds rising above our even breathing.
“So it’s fair to say you don’t handle rejection well?”