Ruthless Love (Ash and Innocence 1)

“They’re gone for another few weeks,” I said dismissively. “Not worried about it.”

He pursed his lips, nodding slowly. “What about the drugs?”

“What about them?” I snapped.

“Three years of nothing and suddenly you’re getting your stomach pumped? It doesn’t add up.”

“I’m a dumbass. How does that add up for you?”

“I’m your friend, Tristan. Whether you like it or not. I also know you well enough that you bitching at me isn’t going to scare me off.”

I sighed. “Then hear this: I’m not going to talk about it. Any of it. I don’t care how you phrase it or how many times you ask. It’s all in the past now, and I’m moving on.”

He watched me for a few moments, running his hands together. “Okay. Then listen. Kennedy really cared about you. I don’t know if that mattered to you or not, but she did. Unless I’m blind, I think you cared about her, too. Even with as much as you managed to fuck things up, I’m betting you could still fix this. But you can’t fix it like this.”

“Like what?”

“Without taking a shower, for starters. But I mean being closed off. You can be a dick and refuse to tell me anything all you want. But if you want her back, you need to be honest with her.”

“Is that all?” I asked.

Logan stood. “That’s all. And now I’ve done my duty as your friend to at least expose you to some decent advice. I’m guessing you won’t do shit with it, but at least I can tell myself I tried.”

Logan left, leaving me to sit on the couch and think about what he’d said.

The problem he didn’t understand was that I wasn’t keeping secrets to protect myself anymore—at least not from her. The secret that stood between me and fixing things with Kennedy was for her sake.

I knew what it was like to have nobody in the world who gave a shit about you. To have no parents. Kennedy only had one left, and she was better off with a psychotic mom than no mom. God knew I’d take a couple psychos over the empty rooms in this place.

I let out a long, frustrated sigh. I just needed to move on with my life. It wasn’t ever going to feel good, but I could bear the burden of letting Kennedy think I was an asshole if it meant protecting her. I was just going to have to live with that.39KennedyIt had been a little over a week since Tristan got kicked off the football team, and I hadn’t made much progress in the moving on department. It still felt like an open wound—and not the kind that was gradually scabbing over and healing. It was more like the kind that needed antibiotics, stitches, and every topical cream in the pharmacy.

Except I didn’t have any of that.

And this morning, I had to finally accept my period was officially late. It should’ve come on Wednesday, and today was Saturday. I asked Logan to give me a ride to a doctor’s office to get tested, mainly because I was too scared to buy a pregnancy test at one of the local stores and risk a rumor spreading.

Logan was a gentleman and didn’t ask any questions about why I needed to secretly visit the doctor on a Saturday. He dropped me off and let me know he’d be around town when I called to get picked up. I thanked him and headed into the small office.

I’d spent my whole life being taught by my mom that I was never supposed to trust places like this. They would label me with a dozen illnesses I didn’t have and rob us blind at the pharmacy for the medications. It was half the reason my mom had taken my treatment into her own hands this whole time.

I smiled at the woman behind the counter. She asked the reason for my visit.

I cleared my throat, leaning in close and making my voice as low as I could. “Pregnancy test,” I said.

She gave me a sad, knowing smile, and handed me a clipboard with some forms to fill out. “Just fill out the first two pages. You can leave the last page blank—that’s for the physician.

I went to sit down and started filling out the form. On the list of symptoms, I had to check dozens of boxes, even though I wasn’t sure why they needed all that information when I was just coming for a pregnancy test.

I had to wait nearly half an hour before I was called back. A young guy took me into a room, weighed me, measured my blood pressure and pulse, and then told me a doctor would be with me shortly.

I couldn’t stop my leg from shaking uncontrollably as I sat there. An irrational part of me felt like my mom was going to come bursting through the door at any moment to drag me out. Worse, I imagined what she’d do if she knew why I was here.