Because I Love You (13 page)

“It’s not going to be in tune, but whatever. What do you want to hear?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Anything.”

Neil tuned the guitar strings for another few seconds, pulled the pick from his mouth, and then began to strum with his right hand. The fingers on his left moved like lightning as he played random notes, then he moved into chords. He looked up at me with a smirk and started to sing, “This is a song that I made up. You said anything. So I made it up.”

I laughed. “Play something I’d know.”

Neil’s smirk softened. His gaze fell to the strings. A familiar melody rang out from the guitar, and, at first, I couldn’t place it. Then Neil started to sing, and by the end of the first line, I knew what I was listening to: “Hallelujah.”

I leaned my head back and shut my eyes. Neil’s voice was one of the best I’d heard in a long time. A deep, smooth tenor. I knew he was good when he sang in the truck, but he was goofing around. Now, goosebumps rose on my skin, and, soon, I was squeezing the pillow like it was a tube of toothpaste on its last drop. Neil’s emotion rang through with every note he played. He sang each lyric like the song belonged to him. He hadn’t picked the tune randomly.

Would my baby be able to play like this? Maybe when I was older and had a bad day, would my son or daughter say, “Mom, I love you; let me play you a song because I know how much it calms you.”

When Neil played the last note, I kept my eyes closed and grasped the pillow a bit tighter, my hands clammy.

“That bad, huh? Must’ve lost my touch,” Neil said.

I shook my head. “No, that was beautiful.” My voice broke on the last word, but I held in the tears. Pregnancy hormones really, really sucked.

The guitar made a
clink
, then I tipped sideways as Neil sat next to me on the bed. He slid his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. Normally, I’d tell myself this was a bad, bad idea, but, right now, the closeness was comforting, and even Neil’s normal musk of soap and cigarettes—a smell that, at first, had annoyed me—was soothing.

“I heard the heartbeat today.” I couldn’t avoid telling him about my day any longer.

He stroked my arm with his thumb. “So it
is
human.”

I snapped my head up, scowling at him.

“I’m kidding.” He smiled softly. “I bet that was intense.”

Sitting as close as we were, every speck of color in his irises glistened. Not only was the blue speckled with silver, but around the edges, the shade deepened to the color of the night sky. Tingles ran down my legs, and I slid out of his hold. Warmth flooded my cheeks, and I tucked my hair behind my ears.

“Yeah,” I replied to his comment, avoiding eye contact. At least I didn’t feel like crying anymore.

“Is that why I found you barefoot and in pajamas in front of the Mini Mart?”

My cheeks burned hotter. I was wearing pajamas, wasn’t I? And no bra
.
I squeezed the pillow to my chest.
Idiot.
“No, that’s not why.”

“Well, look, I was going to wait until you were ready to tell me. But I have to ask: What’s going on?”

I bit my bottom lip, replaying tonight’s revelation in my mind. Heat flushed in my gut again, and when I spoke, my words were coated with anger, “I’m adopted.”

Neil slightly tipped his head. “So?”

“So, my mom waited until tonight to tell me.”

“Oh. Well, she does have really poor timing.”

I glared at him. “That’s all you have to say?”

Neil scrunched his eyebrows. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Like, maybe, ‘I’m sorry,’ or, ‘yeah, your mom sucks.’” I chucked the pillow to the floor.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, now I know you don’t mean it.”

Neil leaned against the headboard and ran both hands down his face. “You know, sometimes you can be so aggravating.”

“
Me?
What about you? You’re always spouting off some joke right and left when, sometimes, I just want to hear some honesty or sincerity from you.”

He turned to me. “Okay, fine. You want honesty? Here’s some: So what if you’re adopted? The only parent I have left doesn’t give a shit about me. Your mom loves you, and you have at least one other biological parent who loved you enough to give you a chance at life. Be thankful for what you have, because some of us don’t have the luxury.”

My mouth fell open. Sure, I’d asked for honesty, but did he have to be so blunt about it? The worst part was he was right. Although I felt abandoned and lied to, I still felt loved. And here I was complaining to
him
, of all people. God, I was such a fool. A selfish, egocentric fool.

I turned away as my eyes watered.

Neil swore. “See, this is why I pick humor.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re right. I’m being a whiny bitch.”

“Hey, look at that. Andie said a bad word.”

I couldn’t help but smile the moment I caught sight of the lopsided grin on his face. Sometimes, maybe humor was the way to go.

“I should probably let Mom know I’m okay, shouldn’t I?” I asked.

“Probably.”

“Will you take me home?”

“Anytime, Princess.”

When he smirked, I rolled my eyes and jumped off the bed. Five minutes later, we pulled out of his driveway. The clock in the truck read 2:00 a.m. Man, I was going to have a lot of groveling and explaining to do.

chapter thirteen

The lights were still on in the house when we pulled up. At least there weren’t cop cars in the driveway. Not that I’d be shocked if someone had called them.

Neil grabbed my hand. “I can come in with you.”

I shook my head, watching the front window for any sign Mom saw us. I’d made Neil turn off his headlights, but I couldn’t be too sure. Knowing her, she’d checked the front yard for signs of me every five minutes.

“No, I don’t want you to get dragged into this,” I said. “She’s going to be mad enough that you didn’t bring me home when you found me.”

“Well, just as long as she doesn’t keep me from seeing you again.”

His expression was bright and unwavering. Hopeful. My stomach knotted. “Neil—”

He squeezed my hand. “We’ll talk later. Have a good night.”

I nodded, frowning. When he let go of my hand, I climbed out of the truck. Each step felt like walking on porcupine needles. It was a good distraction from the gnawing pain in my chest.

In my condition, was I wrong to want to get close to someone? Carter’s mom said she wouldn’t let her son go down with me. If I didn’t squash the feelings cropping up for Neil, would I take him down too?

I couldn’t call him again. He deserved so much more. My eyes burned.
Never thought I’d say that.

The front door was unlocked when I pushed the handle. I stepped inside and breathed in the burnt vanilla scent of Mom’s reed diffusers. Footsteps pounded above me as soon as I closed the door.

“Andie?” Mom peeked her head over the railing of the landing overlooking the foyer. Seeing me, she burst into tears and sprinted down the stairs, enveloping me in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” I said, hugging her. The sweet smell of her ocean-breeze shampoo filled my nose, and my throat tightened. I never should’ve left the house.

Mom stepped back and brushed hair from my face. “Please tell me nothing happened.”

“Nothing happened. I walked to the Mini Mart and called a friend to pick me up.”

She nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Normally, I’d be angry you didn’t come right home, but I’m just glad you’re okay.” Mom put an arm around my shoulders. “What do you say we talk about this more tomorrow?”

I nodded. Now that I was here, exhaustion was setting in. I would’ve passed out in the middle of a conversation anyway. Between all the walking and the crying, I didn’t have energy left to even be mad at her.

I leaned into her as she led me upstairs and didn’t even notice the pain in my feet. I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow. And I didn’t wake up again until after suppertime, hungry as a bear after hibernating. I stuffed my face and apologized to Mom, promising that I wasn’t naïve when it came to the baby and would start searching for a part-time job. Then I sat on the couch and watched sitcoms with her until I fell asleep. Next thing I knew, the clock above the TV read 4:00 a.m.

Mom wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, so I winced my way to the bathroom—I could feel my feet again—and took my time in the shower. I washed off all the grime of the last two days then wrapped a towel around my waist and finished my beauty routine before returning to my room. There, I pulled out my uniform, determined to return to school. I’d missed a week and a half already, and I couldn’t take another moment of being holed up in the house.

Pulling my shirt on first, I groaned when it barely fit across my boobs. Had they really grown that much? My breathing hitched. Would my skirt fit?

Turning sideways in front of the floor-length mirror, I lifted the bottom of my shirt and placed a hand on my abs. They weren’t as flat as I remembered, but maybe I was being paranoid. There was only one way to tell for sure: I grabbed my skirt and stepped into it.

Holding my breath, I zipped up the side and let out a sigh of relief. It was a little snug, but it wasn’t popping at the seams. Maybe that was a good sign for how the day was going to go. My classmates had to be used to the idea of me being pregnant by now. Right?

I stuck my face in a book until Mom’s bedroom door opened.
Finally.
Picking up my blow dryer, I styled my hair in long, loose curls, like I would any other day. Then I took my time with my makeup until I was positive I could prove to my classmates that I still belonged at River Springs Prep.

I joined Mom in the kitchen ten minutes before I had to leave.

“Honey, please don’t tell me you’re going to school,” she said.
Not too often you hear
that
from a parent.
“What about homeschool?”

“I don’t want to give up on River Springs if I can help it.”

Mom stared at me. I shot her a stop-pestering-me look and crossed my arms.

“All right.” She broke. “But if it gets to be too much, you’ll finish out this year at home and go back next fall.” She handed me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a banana.

I ate my breakfast like some genie made the food go
poof
off my plate, stuffed my purse with granola bars, and then raced down the street to catch the bus. As soon as I climbed in, I searched for Jill. Since I’d missed the last three days of school, I hadn’t yet followed through on my promise to eat lunch with her. I sighed, thankful she was sitting alone and that she didn’t glare at me. I slid into the seat next to her.

“I’m sorry I didn’t eat with you on Thursday,” I said.

Jill shrugged. “I know you left early. It wasn’t like you could be two places at once.” Her brown eyes widened, playful. “
Can
you be two places at once?”

“I wish. It’d be nice to get my education without really being here.”

“If I could ace my tests from the Eiffel Tower, I’d never come home.”

I smiled. “Paris would be pretty cool.”

We talked the rest of the ride, not about school or babies but about our interests, what we had in common. Jill was super smart—almost rocket-scientist smart—and totally nerdy. For at least five minutes, she went on about
Star Trek
until I admitted I’d never watched the show. Which, of course, got me a gaping mouth and a promise to be nerdified. Not that I’d mind. It’d be nice to talk about something other than shoes, clothes, and the latest gossip on who was hooking up with whom.

By the time we reached school, I felt like I could take on the world. If only I’d known Jill Anderson sooner. She seemed like the kind of person who was real twenty-four/seven. Not to mention, she was super nice. And I needed that.

Jill and I parted as soon as we entered the building. I dodged snickers and snide smiles the whole way to my locker. Only one person tossed me a, “’Sup, Virgin Mary?” to which I shoved my book bag higher on my shoulder and mentally flipped him off. No one was going to ruin my day.

When I reached my locker, Neil leaned against its door, eyebrows furrowed. As soon as he saw me, he sighed before straightening up and stepping out of the way.

“I’m guessing I shouldn’t say good morning?” I turned the lock.

“No, probably not. I was hoping you wouldn’t come back.”

My knees weakened. Had I misinterpreted everything Monday night? Forcing my voice to stay steady, I replied, “Wow. Nice to know you’ve got my back.”

Neil moved in closer so he could whisper, “You know that’s not what I meant.”

With my books in my arms, I slammed my locker door closed. “I’m tired of hiding. All I want to do is go to class and pretend, for once, that my shot at med school hasn’t gone down the toilet.” I stormed away from him without waiting for a response.

Of course, he matched my stride. Sometimes, it really sucked to have short legs.

“Hey, I’m just trying to look out for you,” he said. “You know how people are here. Besides rich and obnoxious.”

“I’m perfectly capable of ignoring them.”