Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

I chuckle, the laugh catching in my throat when he grabs my hand in the hallway. It can’t possibly be this easy, can it?

One minute we’re bitter enemies when he’s got Bronwyn, the beauty queen hanging off of him. The next minute, we’re watching live-action childbirth and planning our future. It doesn’t seem real, and I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Zeke?” I stop when we get to an area that isn’t as busy with students and turn to him.

“Hmm?” He uses his free hand to brush hair from my face, and this time I don’t hesitate as I lean into his touch. His thumb skates over my bottom lip as he looks into my eyes. “What is it?”

“Is this real?”

“This?” he asks, his eyes darting to the hand caressing my face. “Or this?”

Without a care of who is watching, Zeke bends, pressing his lips to mine.

I groan at the first contact, but he urges my mouth open, swallowing the whimper that escapes when he deepens the kiss.

I’m breathless when he finally pulls away. “You can’t kiss me like that in public.”

“I love you, Frankie Young, and I plan to kiss you everywhere.”

The glint in his eyes tells me he isn’t only talking about our geographical location.

I bite my lower lip to keep from beaming up at him. I don’t want to give this boy my heart, but if I’m being honest with myself, I know he’s had it since long before I left Utah.

Before I can say something stupid, like tell him I love him, too, Zeke grabs my hand and drags me toward my next classroom.

He presses his mouth to mine once again in the doorway, uncaring of who sees, and even though I swat his chest when he pulls away, the smile on my lips doesn’t leave for the rest of the day.Chapter 45Zeke

“We still have time,” I barter.

Frankie and I are sitting in my truck in front of her house. The sun is setting, taking its late fall warmth and leaving behind near frigid temperatures. Honestly, it’s the perfect setting for a murder scene, which I’m sure is only moments away with what she’s planning.

“We have to tell them eventually,” she murmurs, seemingly no more interested in doing this than I am.

“Mom promised she wouldn’t say a word until we’re ready,” I remind her.

What Frankie knows and what I won’t say out loud is that even though Mrs. Young acted excited for her best friend from school to be in town, they haven’t spoken since Mom got settled. Yeah, Mrs. Young helped Mom find a job and set her on the path to get the small house we’re living in, but other than that she’s been as absent for her friend as she has been for her daughter. Mom won’t admit it, but she’s angry with Mrs. Young because of it.

My throat nearly closed when we decided it was time to tell my mom, but after she got over the initial shock, she was almost as excited as we are. She wrapped Frankie in a hug, and I could tell by the look on my girl’s face as she clung to my mom, not wanting to let go, that it was exactly what she needed.

Frankie has been staying at our house while her parents are gone for work, and even though we haven’t revisited what happened in the barn that night, she lets me hold her every night. I’m grateful that she’s finally coming around to believing that what I told her is true. I don’t even have the urge to push her away any longer. If anything, I want to hold on to her and never let her go. I’m surprised she hasn’t begged for distance because I’m smothering her so much.

“I think I just want to get it over with. I don’t know if they’re going to try to ground me or kick me out.” She sighs again as she looks up at her childhood home.

“You turned eighteen two weeks ago,” I remind her.

She spent her birthday with Mom and me—a small affair with Mom making supper for the first time and a cake that Frankie said was delicious. Her parents didn’t even bother to call. All she got was a two-word text from her dad. Her mom didn’t even bother at all.

She was sad, even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud, and it makes me wonder if she’s only spending time with me because she’s so desperate for the love and attention I shower her with daily. Even if that’s the case, I’m not giving up. This girl and that little boy she’s carrying are my entire world.

Frankie looks down at the small black and white sonogram picture in her hands, a small smile playing on her pretty lips.

“We’re having a boy,” she whispers, her voice full of awe and love.