“Like you do? The only reason you’re here is because you got yourself knocked up. If it wasn’t for that you would have been long gone. In fact, you were long gone.”
Her face flames and her hand strikes out, slapping me hard across the face.
My jaw clenches as my hands curl into fists at my side. Don’t hit a pregnant girl. Don’t hit a pregnant girl.
“Fuck,” Tully gasps, seeing the potential ass kicking that’s about to go down, but she’s wrong. I won’t do it. I won’t punch a pregnant chick, but if she pushes me enough…
Noah is on his feet in seconds, winding his arm around Monica’s chest and dragging her back a step, away from the crazy girl. He looks over the top of her head at me, his eyes piercing into me and causing all sorts of havoc within. “I think you should go,” he tells me.
My heart shatters in a way I never thought possible.
Monica grins like she’s won…again, and all it does is piss me off.
I grab the hem of Noah’s shirt and tear the fabric up over my head before slamming it into Monica’s chest. “Here,” I say, standing before a room full of pissed off people in my bra. “Have your fucking shirt.”
With that, I storm towards the door, pinching one of Tully’s jackets on the way.
“Shit,” Noah curses as I barge through the front door. “Rivers, drive her home.”
“Don’t fucking bother,” I call over my shoulder before darting down the front path to get the hell out of there.
I storm down the street, unable to even process what I’m thinking. But with a much clearer head than what I had last night.
How could Noah just let this happen? I get he feels like he’s somewhere in between, but there’s a clear right and wrong here.
I get to the fork in the road. One way leads me home, the other leads me down to the old boardwalk over the beach. I toss up my options. Be alone on the beach or suffer through dad screaming at me? It’s not exactly a hard decision.
I head down to the beach and sit under the boardwalk, curling my toes into the sand in the place that Kaylah and I used to come. I haven’t been here for ages, but right now, the complete aloneness where no one could possibly find me is exactly what I need.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to find a text from Noah.
Noah – Don’t hate me.
I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to throw my phone across the beach and never see it again. I quickly hash out a reply before I can think too much of it and change my mind.
Henley – Too late.
Noah – I’m sorry.
Henley – For what? Hurting me, choosing her, last night, or kicking me out this morning?
Noah – Everything.
I close my eyes, trying to make the pain disappear.
Henley – Goodbye Noah.
Noah – Don’t do that.
Henley – You’re the one who did this. Not me.
With that, I turn off my phone and slide it back into my pocket, not wanting to see what he comes back with, knowing that no matter what he says to me right now, it’s all going to hurt and it’s a pain I simply can’t handle.
My head drops into my knees and the tears start streaming down my face, pissing me off more because I should be stronger than this. I shouldn’t be crying over boys who weren’t even mine in the first place and I realize that unintentionally, I gave Noah the power to break me.
After an hour of sitting on the beach, I pull myself together. It’s probably past midday and my stomach is beginning to growl.
I trudge back to my place, fearing the lecture dad’s been preparing for me since yesterday, but when I stand in front of the house, the first thing I notice is that the truck is gone. I let out a sigh. He only got back yesterday.
I make my way inside and head straight for the kitchen, knowing that when he goes, he usually leaves me a note, and just as I suspected, it’s right there in the middle of the clean table.
I cringe at the cleanliness of it all. If dad cleaned, that means only one thing. He was up all night panicking about me.
Shit, I owe him an apology.
I grab the note off the table and read over it as I pinch the two fifties between my fingers.
Henley,
I have another big one. Should be gone about a week this time.
You better have a good explanation as to why you weren’t home last night.
Be safe. Lock the doors.
Call me as soon as you get this.
Love you.
Shit. Henley, not Squish. That’s big trouble. Like, really big trouble.
I get busy pulling my phone back out of my pocket and dialing his number while ignoring the buzz of the incoming text which is no doubt from Noah.