Page 167 of Tied to You

I need to calm down. Think. Reevaluate.

Taking a few steadying breaths, we sit in silence until we’re saved by the nurse knocking on the door. She checks me over and explains they’re goingto take me to have a cast put on my broken wrist.

When she leaves, I shift on the bed getting comfortable. I know I have to be the first one to say something. Giving it my best attempt to wiggle my fingers I say, “Twenty-two and I broke my first bone.”

Dad raises a small smile. “Does it hurt?”

I shrug. “A little.”

He comes back to the side of my bed; this time he sits himself much closer. “I’m not surprised it took you this long to break something.”

I look up, not following.

“You always were so sensible. Saw every eventuality before making a decision. Worked out the risk before taking it.”

And now I don’t? Is that what he’s going to say? “Da—”

“You haven’t changed,” he says plaintively. I retract, and this time, my not broken hand is picked up and cradled in his. We both stare at it. “You’re just like me.” His thumb strokes over the back of my hand tenderly. Lovingly. It’s the first sign of affection and fatherly love I’ve encountered from him in years. “Good or bad, it’s how I know you’ll have his baby and ensure you give your child the best future you can.”

The room momentarily closes in around me. My heart’s in my throat. “You know?” He knows and he didn’t make me feel ashamed or like I’d thrown my life away?

He nods.

“How?” Tears fill my eyes and my voice rattles.

“The thug who brought you in here told me.”

My mind spirals as I desperately try to piece this together. I only just found out, so did Travis. How does anyone else know? I didn’t tell anyone. Never mentioned anything to anybody. “And?”

His deep-set eyes seem to plunge into a trance. “And, I can still remember the day your mother told me she was pregnant with you.” He smiles, the tenderness in his face, warming. Letting my hand go, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Swiping through the images, he stops on one, smiling down at it before he turns it in his hand toward me.

I smile looking at the picture of my mother, probably not much older than me at the time. It’s a picture of a picture. She’s wearing a long, yellow dress, with her hair hanging over one shoulder. One hand’s holding a stick of candy floss, the other’s on her tummy. Bright blue eyes shine as bright asher smile being aimed at whoever’s behind the camera. The most striking thing about it, though, is the way the man with his arms wrapped around her is looking at her. He’s happy, his love for the woman clearly more powerful than anything on this earth. He isn’t looking at the camera. His eyes are solely fixed on her. His world. “This was the day she told me she was having you.”

I dust the tear off my face, seeing his memory so vividly. “Who’s taking the picture?”

He smiles. “I believe it was your mum’s friend Betty. We were the same age as you. The fair was in town, so a bunch of us went. I knew something was up, she was giddy all day.”

I laugh.

“It was at the top of the Ferris wheel when she told me. This was as soon as we got off.”

“You look so happy.” I hand him back his phone, a ridiculous feeling of jealousy brushing over me. I didn’t get that.

“We were. Still are.”

I give him my best smile, but I watch his face fall flat, mirroring mine. My mother told him she was pregnant and he couldn’t have looked happier. “Why do you look sad?”

Straightening out the lines on his face, he clicks his phone shut and opens his jacket, letting it fall back into his pocket. “It wasn’t easy,” he sighs.

My face scrunches before he continues.

“We were both working dead-end jobs, earning little money. We ended up like ships in the night, trying to save whatever we could to get our own place. Except, we found ourselves out on the street when I was late to work one time.”

“Why were you late?”

He grins. “Because of your mother.”

I smile bashfully, silently willing him to say no more. “What did you do?”