Slashed (Extreme Risk 3)

Dealing with Luc on top of everything else today is exactly what I want to have happen. Of course it is.

Fuck. Maybe I should rethink my policy on not being a gigantic crybaby—

“Why didn’t you at least warn me?” I demand, slowly unbuckling my seatbelt and climbing out of the car. “I could have at least thought about what I was going to say to him.”

“I thought I had more time. I was sure he’d at least wait until we got back from the doctor to talk to Luc.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t look real likely right now, does it?”

She doesn’t answer. But then, she doesn’t have to. Not when Luc throws open the front door and races down the front walkway straight at me.

Chapter 16

Luc

I’ve been pacing Z’s foyer for the last hour and a half, ever since he got the text from Ophelia telling him they were on their way home. I worked up a whole speech in my head, went through a million different ways to say what I want to say and a million different reactions to whatever Cam is going to say to me.

In my head, every single one of them is cool and collected and well thought out. Every single one of them is kind and supportive and determined to be helpful.

Too bad what my head is telling me to do doesn’t manage to translate to my body.

Instead, the second I hear Ophelia’s car pull into the driveway I’m out of the house with only one thought in my head—to get to Cam. And when she actually climbs out of the car, looking pale and vulnerable and more fragile than I’ve ever seen her, all I want to do is pull her into my arms and tell her everything’s going to be okay. Tell her that, no matter what, I’ll be there for her and I’ll take care of her.

But what comes out of my mouth, instead, is, “When the fuck were you going to tell me?”

She stiffens—of course she does—and though she still looks breakable, she shoves the vulnerability deep inside herself where I can’t see it. Where I can’t get to it—or her. Goddamnit.

“I just got back from having it confirmed by my gynecologist. Which means I’ve only known for sure for all of two hours. So, why don’t you back the hell off, huh?”

She moves to brush past me, but I grab her elbow, pull her to a stop. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little freaked out. I had no idea this was even a possibility—”

Cam doesn’t look at me when she replies.

“Really? Because I was in the same sex-ed class as you in school and I’m pretty clear on how babies are made.”

“You know that’s not what I meant—”

“When it comes to you, I don’t know anything.”

She pulls against my grip, but I hang on. There’s a part of me that’s afraid if I let go, I’ll never get to hold her again. Never get to touch her again.

How did things get this messed up between us? I was a fool to let her go when she walked out of my apartment a couple months ago, but how was I supposed to know things were going to get this bad between us? Things weren’t this awful even after that one drunken night we spent together. How could I have anticipated then that we would go this far off course?

“What does it matter to you, anyway?” she demands, losing patience with me and yanking her elbow out of my grasp. “How do you even know it’s yours?”

For a moment, just a moment, my stomach drops. Because that’s my worst fucking nightmare, isn’t it? That I matter so little to her that she can just replace me with some other guy—or worse, that all along I was a replacement for the guy she really wanted. That, all along, I can’t get over her no matter what I do while she never had to get over me at all.

But then, common sense kicks in and I ignore the insecurities, ignore the fear that I’m not good enough because I never have been before. Instead, I tell myself that just because she’s zeroed in on my worst fear doesn’t mean it’s a reality. It just means that she knows me as well as I know her. One more problem that comes with making love to your best friend.

“Please don’t do this,” I tell her. “I know it’s mine.”

She lifts a taunting brow. “You sure about that? You sure it isn’t Josh Greene’s?”

Behind me I hear Z utter a quiet, “the fuck?” only to be hushed by Tansy and Ophelia.

“Or maybe it’s Z’s. Did you ever think about that?”

This time Z’s “the fuck?” is a lot louder and more vehement.