That should ease my mind, but it doesn’t. Not fully. The thought of Farrington in her orbit bothers me more than I want to admit.
“Glad to hear it,” I manage.
Haisley watches me carefully. “Ras…You’ve been off since I brought this up. I get that you don’t like him, but this feels bigger than disliking the guy.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit. You’re thinking about something else.”
Of course she’d figure it out. “It’s probably stupid and I’m overreacting.”
“Try me.”
Drawing a deep breath, I get mentally ready to share my thoughts and choose my next words with care.
“I think Farrington’s the kind of guy who’d sell out his own mother if it got him attention. And I’ve seen what it’s like when people twist the truth to take someone down,” I say flatly. “I’m fucking tired of people using those I care about against me. That’s what happened back in college, and I’m now afraid it’ll happen again with you.”
Haisley’s expression softens a little, the corners of her mouth relaxing. “You care about me?”
“I—” My throat feels tight all of a sudden. “That’s not?—”
She raises an eyebrow, challenging me. “Not what you meant to say?”
“You know what I meant.”
A small, knowing smile tugs at her lips. “Good. Because I care about you too.”
The tension between us shifts with those words. I don’t know what to do with it. These feelings are too big, too much to handle right now.
But one thing’s crystal clear: if Lewis Farrington so much as breathes Haisley’s name the wrong way, I won’t think twice. I’ll break his nose. Because I know exactly how bad that hurts.
21
SEEMS LIKE MISSING NOTES IS BECOMING OUR THING
RASMUS
Our first night at the cabin was peaceful. If you don’t count the hours Haisley spent curled over the toilet in the bathroom while I sat outside the door, frantically googling everything I could about morning sickness. Only to discover the “morning” part is a lie for some. It can last all damn day.
Poor Haisley. I hated seeing her miserable and exhausted, her face pale. I wish I could do something, but there’s no specific cure. The long list of suggestions might help if we are lucky.
The first thing in the morning, after making sure Haisley is comfortable, I drive into the nearest town to do grocery shopping. The store is small, the kind of place where the shelves are stocked to cover the basics. The kind you’d run to for milk and bread when you’re too lazy or busy to do a big shopping trip.
As I scan the aisles, I look down at the list on my phone: crackers, ginger ale, peppermint tea, and plain toast. All these should bring her the comfort she needs right now.
When I reach the fruits, I consider the bananas. Google did mention that they’d be easy on the stomach.
At the shelf with ginger candies, an older man steps up beside me. He chuckles when he peers into my basket. “Ah, those early morning sickness days,” he shakes his head knowingly. “Brings back memories.”
“Yeah?”
“My wife had it real bad with our first. She could barely keep anything down. Ginger ale is definitely a good choice.” He points to the items in my basket and adds, “The peppermint tea is a hit or miss, but worth a try.”
“She was sick all night,” I admit.
The kind stranger pats my shoulder. “Welcome to the club, son. It’s rough in the beginning, but it gets better. Eventually.”
“I wish I could do more to make this comfortable for her.”
