I feel guilty for thinking Billy would blow off my dad when he’s in the hospital. There are probably messages from him on my cell.
My sweater feels tight, and I pull it away from my neck. I can’t stop thinking that if I hadn’t dragged him into this situation, he never would’ve punched Ezra. His agent told him to stay out of trouble, and then this happens. I can’t imagine this bodes well for his prospects next year. If I were a scout, I’d start to think Billy was a bad bet.
And wasn’t that the whole point of us fake-dating? So I could help him clean up his act? I’m doing a piss-poor job of that.
Which is why I’m here.
I can’t let this situation spiral anymore.
If me asking Ezra isn’t enough, I need a backup plan. As I pull to a stop in front of that asshole’s house, the idea comes to me. I grab my phone, which is all lit up with messages, but I don’t have time to go through them. I swipe it open and go straight to the contacts. After a few minutes of furiously tapping at the screen, I’m ready.
This is crazy, even for me, but I owe it to Billy to try.
Before I lose my nerve, I march up to Ezra’s house and ring the doorbell several times. His car is here, and the lights are on.
“I know you’re in there, Ezra!” I straight-up sound like a lunatic, but I’m too upset to care. When no one opens the door, which is locked—I know because I check—I stomp around to the side of the house. He’s going to regret sneaking me into his room.
To think I bought his lies.Oh, we need to keep this on the down-low so girls don’t give you a hard time for dating me.I’m not ready to share you with anyone yet. Let’s keep this between us for a while so we can work on our relationship.What a bunch of bullshit.
I grab hold of the trellis and climb up to the second floor. The window slides open, probably because he’s still banging girls on the side. After I climb in, I call out his name, but he’s not in the en suite bathroom either.
His room looks the same, except messier. I fling open his bedroom door and storm down the stairs. I find that asshole sitting at the kitchen table. His nose is swollen and his eyes are rimmed in black. It almost makes me smile.
His brows lift when he sees me.
“What? Did you think I’d forget how to climb up the trellis like you taught me when you wanted to fuck me behind Abigail’s back?”
Someone sucks in a breath behind me—a female someone—and I close my eyes. Abigail’s here. Shit. Slowly, I turn, and there she is. Her pretty eyes are red-rimmed like she’s been crying. “I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t know he had a girlfriend.”
She points to my belly as tears swim in her eyes. “Are you… Is that…” I can’t blame her for not being able to finish that question.
I nod. “It’s Ezra’s.”
“The hell it is,” he bellows, kicking back his chair, and making me flinch. I spin around, and the murder in his eyes makes me take a step back. “You little skank. You slept with Billy last fall when you swore you were just friends, and now you’re pretending it’s mine.”
“That’s what we said because I wasn’t ready to tell you. You know, after finding out you had a girlfriend the whole time. Why do you think I drove down to San Antonio after the championship game? To congratulate you?” I snort. “No, I fucking went there to tell you I was pregnant. Only to find out you got engaged. To the girlfriend you’ve been cheating on the whole time you’ve been at Lone Star!”
“Don’t believe a word she says, Abigail.” He reaches for her, and she flinches.
“You and Billy weren’t lying last night. Were you?” she asks me. “Ezra’s been sleeping around.”
As much as I loathe Ezra, I hate hurting Abigail, but she needs to know the truth. “We’d never say something like that if it wasn’t true.”
“What a load of crap,” Ezra spits. “Just like you claiming that baby is mine.”
“How much are you willing to bet? Because we can go down to the hospital right now and do a blood test.” It’ll cost an arm and a leg, but it’s the only noninvasive method to identifypaternity until the baby is born. I’m willing to pay it if I have to, even if it means maxing out my credit card.
The look in Ezra’s eyes makes me think he realizes I’m not blowing smoke up his ass. When he doesn’t say anything, I have to drill the point home. “Are you willing to bet your first-round draft pick?”
“What does this have to do with football?”
I offer a grim smile. “Did you know that pro teams invest millions of dollars to vet potential drafts? I know this because my father’s college roommate is a scout. And he does background checks for a living. So I happen to know that if an athlete has a ton of skeletons, it often just takesone leadto unravel the lies. For example, what would happen if I sued you for paternity and then sent those legal documents to every NFL team’s recruiting department? That would give them the motivation to look deeper.”
He shrugs. “They’ll just think you’re a gold digger.”
“The daughter of one of the most respected coaches in college football? You don’t think my family has money?” Well, it belongs to my parents. It’s not mine, but if I clarify this point, it’ll just add to his belief that I’m after a payday. “You and I both know that I’m only one of many girls. It makes me wonder who else might have a grievance against you.” I turn to Abigail. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but homie here has been pretending to be single this whole time. Ask anyone. His roommates. The women at their parties. Basically anyone on campus.”
She’s wiping away the tears. I want to hug her, but I don’t think she’d welcome any comfort from me. “That’s why he never wanted me to visit.”
