Page 12 of Something Reckless

ALBA

A fter a night of absolutely no sleep, I nervously amble across the parking lot of Eggs ’N Oats. I planned my morning carefully to get here fifteen minutes early, hoping to have a moment to myself in order to calm my wrecked nerves.

But when I glance through the dingy diner window now, I see that Easton is already here, sitting at a small table right by the door. Waiting for me.

Flipping fantastic.

He looks as stressed out as I feel. Beard, a little scruffy. Hair, a little wild. Worry lines on his handsome forehead. Knuckles tapping rhythmically against the tabletop.

But realizing that he might be anxious makes me feel a little less uncertain about this mess. He’s taking it seriously. Learning the truth about Jagger means something to him and he’s depending on me to be forthcoming with him.

Guess it’s time to brave-up and face the music.

Last night was, well, rough . My phone call with Easton was brief. Just long enough for us to both agree that we need to handle this situation face to face. So we made plans to meet up here today. When we ended the call, my nerves were frayed and my anxiety was bubbling in my gut.

But then it was time to face Mom. She was waiting for me in my kitchen. As expected, she had a million questions. There was lots of crying and lots of shock, as I finally spit out the nine-year-old secret I’ve been carrying for my sister.

Way back when I had to break the news to my parents that Raya was going to be a teenage mother, I carefully skirted around any questions about the baby’s father. Raya preferred to just let everyone think she had no idea who the dad was.

To her, it was easier than dealing with the drama she would have faced if the truth ever came out. She didn’t want to be known as the girl who tied down the hometown hero with a baby that neither of them was ready for.

While my mom is hurt that she was left in the dark for so long, ultimately, she just wants what’s best for Jagger. And she agrees that what’s best for Jagger involves telling Easton the truth.

Taking a deep breath, I walk into the diner. Easton spots me instantly, jumping to his feet and pulling out a chair for me.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, sinking into my seat.

Then we just stare at each other, and it’s clear that neither of us knows where to start.

After a moment of awkward silence, he waves the waitress over to take my order. The notoriously chatty Tammy arrives, holding her notepad and popping her bubble gum. She eyeballs Easton up and down.

“My gosh, aren’t you that hockey player?” Her head snaps in my direction. “Alba! He’s that hockey player!” Her eyes dart back to Easton. “Wait! Are you two on a date?!”

“No! Not a date!” Easton and I both shout in unison .

Ears perk up and eyes around the diner swing our way.

A sly smile spreads across the server’s face. “Mmm. Not a date, huh? More of a morning-after kind of thing?” She nudges my shoulder with her elbow. “Well, that definitely calls for pancakes.” She winks at me.

Jeez whiz .

Tammy is one of my mom’s few remaining friends, one of a handful of people that didn’t shun my mother when the truth about Dad was revealed. She talks a lot, but she’s mostly harmless.

Yet still, I can tell that Easton is uncomfortable right now, and I am, too.

“Wow. Somebody’s nosy early in the morning…” he mumbles. He pulls his Sin Valley Saints cap onto his head, dragging it low over his eyes.

I lean across the table to him, ignoring the server who’s now smacking her gum and staring at him like she’d like to eat him up with a side of bacon and eggs. “Maybe we could order something to go?” I whisper.

Easton nods hurriedly. “Good idea.”

“I’ll just take a coffee, please,” I say to Tammy.

Easton looks up at the server. “Could you make that two coffees? To go?”

At first it seems that the waitress is anything but thrilled about losing out on having a hockey star customer and the tips to go along with it. But Easton tosses down way more cash than necessary and the woman perks right back up.

As soon as we have our coffees, we head outside.The morning air is already warm, but not uncomfortably so. In the parking lot, Easton and I sort of loiter awkwardly, still not sure of the next step to take.

“There’s a park down that way, right?” he asks, pointing in the direction of Lucky Clover Bridge .

“Right. Yeah.”

And that’s where we go.

We don’t say much on the short walk over. I use the time to take small sips of my coffee and get my thoughts in order.

But the moment we step into the park, whatever I was going to tactfully say goes right out the window. I just let loose, rambling and spilling everything.

“So Raya came to me and told me she was pregnant a few weeks after you left town. I insisted that she had to track you down and tell you the truth. But she said she didn’t want to. She said she was worried about ruining your career.”

“Raya gave a damn about my career?” Easton asks disbelievingly.

I don’t blame him for doubting. My sister is notoriously selfish and sometimes downright manipulative.

I shrug. “I guess she didn’t want everyone blaming her for ruining your future in hockey. You were the hometown hero. Everyone was rooting for you. She didn’t want people pointing fingers at her as the reason you messed up your shot in the big leagues.”

Easton doesn’t seem to understand. “Knowing about my kid wouldn’t mess up my shot at anything.”

“Be real, Easton.”

“Be real? What’s that supposed to mean?”

I try to refrain from rolling my eyes. It’s easy for him to try and play the ‘good guy’ card now. But nine years ago, he was singing a whole different tune. I know that for a fact.

We continue to stroll beneath the tree canopy until we pop out on the pedestrian walkway running alongside the bridge.

I push forward with my story. “In any case, I agreed to keep Raya’s secret. From everyone. Well, Jules knew, but that’s it,” my words keep spilling out.

“So, your parents didn’t know I was the father…?”

I shake my head. “My mom only pieced it together last night at the grocery store. My dad? Well, let’s just say we don’t keep in touch with him these days, and at this point, he probably doesn’t care what’s going on in our lives anyway.”

“Wait. Let’s back up.” Easton holds up a palm, his brows lowered over stormy blue eyes.

“Raya asked you not to tell me about Jagger, and you just never did? Ever ?” When I open my mouth, he quickly cuts me off.

“And don’t say it’s because she’s your twin sister.

I understand that you wanted to be loyal, but twin sister or not, there’s still right and wrong. Keeping this from me was wrong.”

At the accusing tone in his voice, guilt tries to stab me in the lung like a dagger. But I fight back.

“Why did I have to tell you anything? Raya told you herself. And you made it clear to her that you didn’t want a child to begin with.” My shoulders tighten defensively.

He squints like he’s trying to read my face through a dirty window. “What? What do you mean I made it clear I didn’t want a child?”

I huff out a breath, flinging my free arm up in frustration before letting it slap my thigh.

“Really, Easton? Are you really going to play innocent here? Wow. You must think I don’t know the full story.

” I’m getting angry. Angry enough to spit nails.

Because Easton is playing games with me. And I don’t like it.

“Alba, stop talking in riddles. I’m on the verge of a fucking panic attack. Tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

I dig into my purse and pull up the folded piece of paper. “ I was hoping I wouldn’t need this—” but since you want to pretend you don’t know the whole story here…

I hand the email print-outs to Easton and carefully gauge his facial expression as he reads through them.

“Raya begged me to never tell you about the baby, and at first, I agreed. But by the time she was around the five-month mark of her pregnancy, my guilty conscience was eating at me. I insisted that she track you down and tell you what was going on. So she used your old high school email address to reach out to you and she spilled everything. And your response…” My throat tightens as I stare at the page in Easton’s hand.

I’ve read those emails so many times over the years that, by now, I’ve memorized the words like the lyrics to an ugly song.

This hockey opportunity means everything to me.

I’m not going to let you ruin my life.

Don’t you dare have that baby, Raya.

In the email thread, my sister agreed with Easton’s request to end the pregnancy. But ultimately, she didn’t want to do it. So, she kept Jagger. She never told Easton that part. And he never even checked in on her again after that day as far as I know.

As he reads the email exchange now, Easton’s head is slowly shaking back and forth. “Raya and I never had this conversation,” he croaks out hoarsely. “I never even knew she was pregnant. Let alone, pregnant by… me. ”

“Don’t lie, Easton,” I spit out. “She reached out to you. You dodged responsibility. Simple as that.”

“No, Alba,” he insists. “I’ve never seen these messages before in my life.”

“ Seriously, Easton?” I jab at the page in his hand. “This is your email address right here. ”

His eyes scan the spot I’m pointing at. He blinks. He blinks again.

“No, it’s not. That’s not my email address.”

Shaking my head in disbelief, I take the sheet of paper from his grasp, eyeballing it.

“My name is misspelt.” His voice cracks. “It’s missing an ‘E’.”

I look more closely at the address.

[email protected]

R-A-I-N-S

The ‘E’ is missing.

Oh my god. He’s right.

There’s a spelling mistake in the email address.

A chill sweeps through me, shaking me to my bones.

Shock. Utter shock is what I feel. Because for nine whole years, this email thread has shaped my world view.

An ugly realization clicks in my head. “Raya fabricated this entire email exchange?!”

“Looks like it,” Easton says, his nostrils flaring as his face turns red.