Grabbing my phone, I try calling my dad, but it goes straight to voicemail. After several more attempts, I finally text him.CALL ME BACK! I WANT TO TALK TO YOU!
Coach hates when my mother sends him all-cap messages. I’ll track him down first thing tomorrow. It’s way past time for him to hear the truth about Ezra Thomas. Maybe if my dad knows the whole story, he’ll go easier on Billy.
I rub Billy’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t let Coach get to you. He’s all bluster. He’ll calm down in a few days.”
Billy gets up, looking dazed. “I’m gonna take a shower. I need some time to think.”
That’s not an invitation to join him. “Uh… of course.” I don’t know why that hurts my feelings, but it does.
Billy wants some time alone. That’s not an unreasonable request, Roxy.
What sucks is I can never tell these days if I’m being too sensitive because I’m pregnant or if I have a legit reason to feel butthurt.
Right now, I suspect it’s the former.
Maybe I should get ready for bed. That way Billy can hang out in the living room after his shower and get some space.
Fighting the urge to get emotional, I think about my favorite cheerleading routines. Cheer used to be my happy place. I could shut down my brain and focus on the squad and our routines. Not being able to compete this spring at nationals only makes me sadder, so I focus on those times I nailed my stunts. How free I felt when I was flying through the air. How empowered when I tumbled across the stage. How proud to stand at the top of the pyramid.
Will I ever feel like that again?
I’m enjoying helping Paige and giving her tips, but coaching isn’t the same as doing something yourself.
Once in my room, I strip out of my clothes and stare at my naked body in the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. From the front, I don’t look all that different. I run my hands over my boobs and weigh them. They feel swollen and sensitive, and I swear the areolas are wider, which is weird. My stomach looks the same, until I turn sideways and there’s a definite bump that wasn’t there before, which makes sense because my jeans are tighter. But my God, when did this happen?
Slowly, I rub my hand over my lower belly and wonder what my daughter will be like. It’s bittersweet to know she’ll probably never know her father. I’m guessing Ezra won’t give two figs about her once he knows the truth, and while I’m grateful he won’t be messing up our lives, I’m sad for my bean. I love my dad, stubborn mule that he is, and I want her to have a father figure in her life like I did.
After I dress in a tank top and pajama bottoms, I glance at the moving box in the corner marked CHEER. It has a few medals and awards I’ve won over the years, photo albums from all the places I’ve trained since I was a kid, and scrapbooks. It’s too painful to look at right now, but when I’m up to it, I want to unbox everything and make peace with the fact it’s no longer part of my life.
Not wanting to disturb Billy, I grab some spare toiletries I kept in my cheer travel kit I never unpacked and brush at the kitchen sink and wash my face. Then I tuck myself into bed and grab my historical romance. Only I’m too frazzled to concentrate. After reading the same paragraph five times, I give up.
I flip off the light, turn on my side, and try to sleep, but all of these horrible scenarios keep running through my head. What if Billy really gets in trouble for punching Ezra? What if the school decides to make an example of him and expels him? What if he’s put on some kind of probation that affects his eligibility? What happens when scouts get wind of this fight and write him off because they think he’s too high-risk?
I groan into my pillow. How did I let this get so out of control?
From the hallway, I hear the bathroom door open, and I hold my breath. Will Billy head back to the living room? Will he sleep on the couch? Did I ruin this thing between us before we even got started?
“Babe, you awake?”
I’m so relieved to hear his voice, I get choked up. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just… I hate that you’re in this situation because of me.” My voice wavers and I sniffle, upset I can’t keep my shit together anymore.
He crawls into bed behind me. He’s naked. I don’t know why, but this makes me relax. Not that we have to have sex, but I’m craving a physical connection with Billy, even if it’s just snuggling.
His large hand moves to my belly that’s beginning to swell and strokes me gently. “How’s our bean?”
A shaky smile pulls at my lips. The baby is about the only thing that could get me to smile right now. “She’s good.”
Turning me around, he pulls me on top of him. I close my eyes, wrap my arms around his neck, and nuzzle against him. His hair is damp, and he smells like body wash.
In this dark, quiet room, it’s easy to be honest with myself. Still, I close my eyes, embarrassed that I’ve dragged him through my drama. “Billy, I’m sorry for all of this. For making you do this stupid fake-dating thing for me.”
He strokes my back. “I’m not sorry.”
Sniffling, I open my eyes, surprised he’s not royally pissed off at me. “Really?”
