Just One Night Page 3

  I asked her to breakfast, and she looked at me like I was scum beneath her shoes. I had done a shitty thing, but I’ve tried to man up to it on more than one occasion, and she keeps shooting me down. So, I’m still a lonely asshole who only gets turned on at the thought of his dead wife and a woman who hates him.

  I reach up to the tallest cabinet above the fridge and pull out the bottle of Jameson, my good friend who doesn’t judge me when we hang out too much. I owe this motherfucker thousands of dollars in therapy. The liquid burns but feels almost euphoric, seeping down my throat.

  Lately, all I’ve done is pretend—pretend that I’m okay in front of my family. I put on a brave face and make it through the day for my daughter … and then I go to bed, wanting nothing more than to rip myself out of my skin.

  I flinch when I hear my front door slam and take the bottle with me to investigate. I stumble back at the sight of the last person I expected to show up at my door tonight.

  “Yikes, what the hell are you doing here?” I ask. “Stella decide to leave your ass already?”

  Hudson snatches the bottle from my hand with a snarl. “We need to talk.”

  I put my hands in the air. “If it’s about me cornering Willow, I only did it, so we’d be civil during your wedding festivities.”

  He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a sip. “I, uh …” He takes another. “I have a feeling the two of you are going to have to learn to be civil long after my wedding.”

  His response doesn’t make sense, but I’m blaming it on the alcohol. “I won’t be an asshole again, okay? I tried to apologize, but the chick wasn’t having it.” Not that I blame her. I pulled the biggest dick move out of all dick moves … because all I was thinking with was my dick.

  “Willow is pregnant.” He grinds the words out, the air in the living room shifting to something I don’t recognize.

  I blankly stare at him. “Okay?” My heart sinks that she’s found someone else. No wonder she wanted nothing to do with me. She’s found a man who isn’t a broken asshole. Good for her. I would’ve only ruined her.

  “Willow. Is. Pregnant,” he stresses.

  I’m not catching his drift. What does he want me to do? Throw her a baby shower? “I’ll be sure to buy her a gift.”

  The coffee table shakes when he pounds his fist against it. “Willow is pregnant with your goddamn baby, you fucking dumbass. I thought you’d be smart enough to put two and two together.”

  Good thing he grabbed the bottle from me. This would’ve been the moment it crashed on to my hardwood floor. “You’re fucking with me.”

  His straight face answers my question. He can’t give a DNA test with his eyes, but I believe him.

  “Why would you assume it’s mine? We slept together once.”

  “I overheard her telling Stella.”

  I digest his news and swallow a few times before grabbing my keys. A picture cracks when I throw them across the room as I realize I’m in no condition to drive.

  “I need a ride.”

  “The fuck you do. In case you forgot, I got engaged tonight. I’ve already missed a few good hours because I couldn’t think of pussy when I knew I was keeping this from you.”

  “How very noble of you,” I mutter, wincing when he slaps the back of my head. “Stella’s vagina doesn’t have a curfew. Take me to Lauren’s.”

  “Hell no. Stella will bite my dick off the next time I ask for a blow job.”

  “Take me to Lauren’s, or I’ll walk.”

  “Get in my fucking truck.”

  Chapter Three

  Willow

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  I’m having a nightmare where a psychopath is pounding on the door of Lauren’s apartment. I’ll be murdered, and my skin will be worn as a coat. I don’t realize I’m awake until I hear the familiar, masculine voice.

  “Willow!” he screams on the other side of the door.

  Bang! Bang!

  “I know you’re in there! Open up!”

  My heart races, and I slap my hand over my mouth, not sure if it’s because I don’t want to make a peep or I’m close to puking.

  “Lauren!”

  Bang! Bang!

  “One of you had better open this door before I break it down!”

  Oh, shit.

  Shitty-shit-shit!

  I should’ve known Hudson couldn’t keep his fat mouth shut. He probably went and tattled as soon as he got the chance.

  I rub my eyes when the lights turn on. Lauren comes rushing into the living room, tying a purple robe around her waist in frustration.

  “I hope blood doesn’t make you queasy,” she bites out, stomping her feet.

  I raise a brow.

  “Because I’m about to castrate my brother.”

  If only she had done that sooner.

  I pull myself into a sitting position, resting my back on the couch, and shrug like the shitshow about to happen isn’t my fault.

  Curse words fly out of her mouth with every step she takes while he continues his tantrum on the other side of the door.

  “Jesus, fuck, Dallas!” she yells, swinging the door open. “You’d better be getting a bedroom ready at your place for when I get evicted.”

  He bursts into the living room without paying her a glance. His sharp eyes cut straight to me, demanding answers, and his pain-stricken face confirms what I was afraid of. He’s as terrified as I am.

  “Is it true?” he blurts out.

  Lauren slams the door and storms into the living room. “Is what true?”

  His attention doesn’t leave my face. “Are you pregnant?”

  I have no words. I’m frozen in place—unable to move, unable to talk, unsure of where to go with this.

  “I’m confused as to why that’s any of your business and why you felt the need to show up here like someone is about to blow the place up,” Lauren replies for me.

  He doesn’t answer her. His attention stays fixed on me, as if Lauren weren’t even in the room.

  “Answer me,” he demands.

  I clear my throat, about to cave in and tell him but chicken out and nod instead.

  The anguish on his face amplifies. “Is it mine?”

  This is the moment.

  This is where I have to decide not only my future, but also my baby’s.

  “Wait … what?” Lauren screeches.

  Chapter Four

  Dallas

  My head spins like I’ve been beating it against a wall all day.

  Not one rational thought has climbed through my brain since Hudson broke the news. He’d been thrown into a tough spot. He either had to betray the woman he loved or his blood.

  He chose me. He chose the truth. Instead of fucking his fiancée senseless the night of his engagement, he came over and spilled her best friend’s secret. I would’ve never forgiven him had he kept it from me. Pure ice sinks through my veins as I just think about it.

  Lauren is behind me, firing off question after question, but my attention is pinned on Willow. Her green eyes, filled with confliction and scorn, narrow my way.

  I take a calming breath as an attempt to help us both relax. “Is the baby mine?” I ask again.

  All eye contact shatters when her gaze drops to her lap, and she fidgets with her hands. Sure fucking sign of lying. I stupidly pull out the pregnancy test I forced Hudson to buy at the pharmacy before coming here from my pocket. I can’t decipher if the gasp coming from her is from surprise or anger.

  The snarl of her upper lip answers my uncertainty.

  “You brought a freaking pregnancy test?” she shrieks. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  A reaction. Finally, I get something from her.

  Hudson warned me she’d go Muhammad Ali on my ass when she saw the test, but as I mentioned before, my brain isn’t functioning at its finest.

  I stumble forward when Lauren pushes my back to gain my attention.

  She signals between Willow and me. “Why would you assume the baby is
yours if she’s pregnant?” Her hand flies to her mouth. “Holy mother of God, you two are banging?”

  “No!” Willow yells, as if the thought horrifies her.

  That puts a damper on a man’s ego.

  I grit my teeth. This isn’t a conversation I want to conduct in front of my baby sister. “Lauren, some privacy, please.”

  She scrunches up her nose. “In case you’ve failed to notice, this is my apartment. Where do you expect me to go at three in the morning?”

  “Your bedroom.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You suck.”

  “And be sure to put on earplugs,” I call out to her as she heads down the hallway.

  She twists around on her heels with a smirk. “And miss this conversation?”

  I give her a look, one that tells her I’m not fucking around, but that only grants me another eye roll. Her bedroom door slams shut, and I know she’s not going for her earplugs.

  The air is heavy.

  I’m staring at Willow.

  She’s staring at me.

  A scarlet flush rides up her high cheekbones.

  I’ve never had a staring contest last so long.

  Willow has the face of an angel with light freckles scattered along her nose and cheeks. Her personality-matching fire-red hair is pulled back into a ponytail with loose strands flying in every direction. I’ve never had one negative thought about her until tonight. She has a huge heart and bends over backward to help others, often putting them before herself. She smiles as if she’s never been hurt, but I know she has from the many times I saw her dip out of rooms with tears in her eyes after an argument with her ex-boyfriend. She acts hard but is a softie.

  She’s also cautious with letting people in. This is going to be a challenge.

  “Put that pregnancy test away before I shove it up your ass.” Her cold tone startles me.

  It takes me a few attempts before I manage to push it back into my pocket. She flinches when I move in closer and drop to my knees in front of her. Pain coats my throat as I clear it.

  “If you’re pregnant,” I say, blowing out a breath. It takes me a second to continue. “If you’re pregnant and I’m the father, we need to come up with a plan.”

  There.

  That’s me stepping up and being a man even though I want nothing more than to throw myself out the window. No matter how broken I am, no matter what hell I’m going through, I could never turn my back on my child.

  Willow shakes her head, swatting her hand through the air, as if dismissing what I said. “Dallas, don’t worry about this, okay? You’re going through a lot. I can do this on my own.”

  “If there’s one certainty I have for you, it’s that, that’s not fucking happening, do you hear me?”

  She sighs, rubbing her forehead. “Fuck.” An annoyed laugh leaves her full pink lips. “You storm over here at the ass crack of dawn after one of the most exhausting days of my life and demand I make a plan?” She snorts. “That’s not what’s happening right now, do you hear me?” She lies back down on the couch and pulls the blanket up her body. “I’m going to sleep, and you can go back to doing whatever it is you were doing … as long as it’s not drunkenly waking up the entire building while waving pregnancy tests through the air.”

  Fuck. She has a point.

  Lauren interrupts us by walking back into the living room and holds both hands in the air. “Don’t get pissed at me, but, Willow, take my bed. I can’t have a pregnant chick crashing on my couch.”

  A slight smile hits Willow’s lips. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be fine.” The smile collapses when her attention goes to me. “As long as it’s quiet.”

  That’s Willow—accommodating everyone else and always putting herself last in line.

  “You sure?” Lauren asks, and Willow nods. “Okay, let me know if you change your mind or need anything.” She tells us good night and goes back to her bedroom.

  “What are you doing?” Willow asks when I grab a blanket and pillow from a closet.

  I throw them on the floor next to the couch. “You’re exhausted. I’m exhausted. Let’s get some rest and talk in the morning.”

  “You have a bed at your home. Go sleep in it.”

  I squat down and fluff the pillow. “I’m crashing here. End of discussion. I can’t risk you sneaking out on me in the middle of the night and flying thousands of miles away before talking. We’ll be having a conversation about this tomorrow.”

  She sends me one last glare before shifting on her side and giving me a view of her back. I switch off the light and make myself as comfortable as I can, resting my arms behind my head and staring at the ceiling.

  A baby.

  A baby with another woman.

  I fight every day to hold Maven and myself together. How am I going to do this?

  It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll figure it out.

  I made Lucy a promise to be a good man, and I plan on keeping it.

  Chapter Five

  Dallas

  Three Months Ago

  The good people of Blue Beech visit the Down Home Pub for three reasons:

  #1: To forget.

  #2: To feel alive.

  #3: A live band is playing, and they don’t have shit else to do.

  I’m number one.

  It’s a hole in the wall, the only bar in the county, and it has been here longer than I’ve been alive. It’s not fancy, and it doesn’t carry top-shelf shit, but I feel more comfortable here than any upscale club in LA.

  I’ve been a regular since my twenty-first birthday, but in the past ten months, I’ve become almost a part-time resident the two days a week I don’t have Maven. My parents demand they get plenty of time with their only grandchild. I tend to come during the week when the people who don’t like conversation are here.

  It’s a full house tonight, which is why I didn’t want to come. I hate crowds. Hate the flashes of pity men give me after sucking down another shot of cheap whiskey. Hate the women who take turns coming over with the belief that food and attention will heal me.

  A fucking casserole isn’t going to restore this empty soul of mine.

  I walked into the bar to find Lauren and Willow sitting at a table in the back. Lauren ordered a round for everyone and did her best to get us to get up and socialize, but neither one of us was having it. Willow eventually convinced her to bail on us and have fun on the dance floor.

  Thank fuck.

  My sister goes overboard when she tries to pep me up and give me a good time.

  How Willow ended up here is a mystery to me. Pubs aren’t her thing. She sips champagne, does yoga, eats chocolate with fancy-ass names. She flew in for Stella’s crew party, so the only reason I can come up with is, she’s trying to stay away from Stella and Hudson’s lovefest.

  I lean back in my chair, balancing the neck of my beer bottle between two fingers, and stare at her as she gives the bar a once-over. The pendant light above us shines over her head like a halo when she starts peeling paint off the table. Her weariness surprises me. I’ve always thought of her as a chameleon—someone who adapts to any situation she’s thrown into.

  I set my beer bottle down and wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans. “What’s Tinder?” Really? This is what I say to break the ice? It’s all I could think of.

  My question surprises her, and she lifts her gaze to me. “Tinder?” She scrunches up her face like she didn’t hear me correctly.

  “Yeah, what is it? Lauren has been up my ass all week, insisting I join it.”

  She laughs, a smile cracking at the side of her lips. “Really? You’ve never heard of Tinder?”

  “Trust me, I wouldn’t be sitting here, feeling like an idiot, if I had.” I grab my beer and take a long draw, finishing it off. “Looks like I’m the only one lost on the Tinder subject.”

  “It’s a dating app.” She pauses. “Let me correct myself. It’s a booty-call app. Swipe right; swipe left. Let’s bang; let’s not.”

  �
��A booty-call app.” I snort. “It’s sad when your sister cares more about you getting laid than you do.”

  “I seem to have the same problem with everyone but me worrying about my vagina getting the business.” She laughs again, the sound of it putting me at an unfamiliar ease—something I haven’t felt in a long time.

  I want to hear that laugh again. A woman this beautiful doesn’t deserve to be sitting in the back of a run-down pub with sadness in her eyes.

  “Hudson told me about the bullshit your boyfriend pulled,” I say.

  Her ruby-red lips frown, and she runs a nervous hand down her dress. I pinch the bridge of my nose, regretting my words. Bringing up her douche-bag ex isn’t going to get me another laugh.

  “Hudson has a big mouth,” she mutters. “And ex-boyfriend.”

  “Sorry ’bout that. Hudson told me what your ex did.”

  “What he did was fucked up and the final straw of our relationship.”

  “Did the kid die?” I pause, the question hitting too close to home. I have a daughter. That could’ve been Maven. I can’t imagine what those parents are going through.

  “Fortunately, no. Unfortunately, he has severe brain damage and will never be the same.”

  Fucking jackass. Shows how one stupid decision can impact the lives of others. I only met her ex a handful of times, but I instantly knew he’d never be a friend of mine.

  “And him?”

  “He’s out on bail, and his trial has been postponed until he completes physical therapy.”

  “You shitting me?”

  She shakes her head. “The perks of being the son of the town mayor.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “It makes me sick that I loved someone who did something that bad.”

  She snatches the drink Lauren ordered her and downs it. My lips slightly turn up when her face twists into something that resembles disgust.

  She sticks out her tongue and points to the glass, like it’s poison. “Is your sister trying to kill me? What is this shit?”