Because I Love You (23 page)

Neil’s left eye was black, and a cut above his left brow had been stitched closed.

“What happened?” I asked, grabbing his hand and tugging him inside. I touched his left temple with my fingertips.

He winced and tipped his face away from my hand. “I’m fine. It’s nothing, unlike your Rudolph nose.”

“Gee, thanks. Seriously, what happened? Please tell me you didn’t get into a fight.”

“I didn’t get into a fight.” With a shrug, he left me standing in the foyer to gobble food from our kitchen. It’d become an every-day occurrence. Well, weekday occurrence. I never did see him on the weekends. Last time I’d asked him to skip a Saturday of working for his uncle, Neil had warned me the “consequences would be dire.”

As Neil stared into the open refrigerator, I put a hand on his back. “You know I can’t let you walk in here, looking like that, and not know why.”

He sighed, grabbing a container of leftover mashed potatoes. “Mom had a bad night. That’s all you need to know.” Shutting the fridge door, he walked away from my touch to pop the bowl into the microwave.

I ground my teeth. “She hit you again?”

“Andie, let it go.”

“No! She can’t do that to you.”

He slammed the microwave shut. “And what would you have me do? Call the cops on her?”

“Maybe.”

Neil pressed the start button and spun around, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s my mom. I’m not going to have her thrown in jail. Besides, I’ll be eighteen in a couple weeks, and then I can move out without having to go through all the emancipated shit Beth did. I’ll get my part of my Dad’s lawsuit money, and I’ll only have to swing by and check on her once in a while.”

I frowned. The microwave beeped, and Neil grabbed his lunch.

“If anyone asks, though, I got the shiner in a boxing match where I won five hundred bucks.” He smirked and sat at the dining table.

Rolling my eyes, I joined him, took the spoon from his hand, and stuffed a bit of potato in my mouth. He glared at me.

I shrugged. “Baby’s hungry.”

“You know, you can only use that excuse so often before someone starts thinking you get kicks from stealing food.”

I grinned and played with the corner of the textbook sitting on the table. What would Neil say when he saw the picture? I hoped he’d say something along the lines of
that’s awesome
. But would he be moved, like I was? The baby wasn’t his, so would he even care?

“You’re staring at me. Do I have something on my face, or am I just that handsome?”

“You do realize you’re not as attractive as you think you are?” Blatant lie. Oh well.

He clutched his chest. “Ouch. That was cold, Hamilton. Like Jack Frost.” I shook my head. “But seriously,” he continued, “what’s going on? You looked like you’d been crying before I showed up, and now you’re gawking at me. Do I need to be worried?”

Biting my lip, I drew out the ultrasound picture from under my homework and handed it to Neil. “The doctor took this yesterday at my appointment.”

He dropped his spoon into the bowl and took the photo. “Man, it has got to cut down on all the booze. It’s getting a beer belly.”

“Neil!” I should’ve known the first thing that popped out of his mouth would be a joke. But for one freaking minute, it’d be nice to get some sincerity from him when we weren’t arguing or I wasn’t crying. I stood and entered the kitchen before he could see the tears welling up.
Great. Here we go again. Stupid eye faucets.

“Oh, come on. You know I’m kidding,” he said.

Without replying, I fumbled in the pantry, pretending to look for something to eat. Right now, the tears weren’t falling. I wanted to keep it that way.

His chair scooted out, then hands held my hips. Neil tried to spin me, but I dug my heels into the floor.

“Hey, look at me,” he said.

“No.” My voice was shaky.
Dang it
. I gripped the counter when he tried to spin me again.

With hands still on my hips, Neil rested his forehead against the back of my skull and sighed. “Andie, I’m sorry. It was a joke.”

We stood that way for at least a minute, then I broke the strained silence. “Dr. Brandt told me it was a boy.”

This time when he tried to turn me, I let him. He relaxed when I met his gaze. Neil tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear, his smile soft and his touch gentle. I put my hands on his chest.

“That’s great,” he said.

“Do you really think so?”

“Why else would I say it?”

“Because you know that’s what I want to hear.”

“Well, I mean it. You know I’m in this with you 100 percent; I want you to tell me everything. So, it’s a boy. That’s awesome. I think my aunt still has a few things left from when she had my cousin. I could ask her to—”

I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him. Here he was, genuinely excited and offering to ask his aunt for hand-me-downs, like the baby was his. My heart fluttered. I didn’t deserve him. Not even a tiny part of him. Yet, he was mine.

A startled noise popped out of Neil, then his hands were in my hair. His lips moved in sync with mine as he gently tugged on my strands. A shiver ran from my mouth to my toes. Breathing heavier, I kissed him harder, hungry to be closer to him. Neil slipped his tongue into my mouth, and his hands wandered down my back. The hair on my arms rose, and I leaned into him, aching to feel his palms on my bare skin.

I froze. What if he was grossed out by my swelling body? Most guys liked toned girls, and I just felt like a walking balloon. Would he change his mind about me? Would he push me away?

“You okay?” His voice jarred me from my mini-panic attack. Somewhere in all of those thoughts, I must’ve stopped moving altogether. Neil’s blue eyes were so bright, so full of genuine concern. I stuffed down my insecurity and kissed him again. Neil was a better guy than that. And for as much making out as we’d done, we hadn’t moved past first base—and, deep down, I was
so
ready for more.

I unwrapped my arms from around his neck and moved my hands up his shirt, caressing his abs with my fingertips. His breathing grew louder, and he pulled me closer. Wanting—needing—to see him the way I had months ago, I lifted his shirt over his head. I traced the tattoo on his chest with my fingertips, outlining each letter of the words “Don’t Forget the Music,” a small pang of sorrow in my gut. I’d forgotten about it, to be honest, and hadn’t yet questioned him about it. But I was positive he’d gotten it for his dad.

Neil grabbed my fingers with one hand, stopping me before I could ask, and lifted my lips back to his with his other. Letting go of my hand, he stuck his fingers in my hair as he parted my lips with his tongue. I kissed him deeper and wandered my hands down his toned back.
Please
, I begged him with my heart, hoping he could hear it. Hoping my brain would recognize I was safe with him. I didn’t need to be insecure.

Neil trickled his hands down my sides as we continued to kiss, and with each inch his palms moved, the more my body ached for him. Then he slipped his hands under the back of my shirt and caressed my spine, and I moaned loudly. Neil swore, his voice breathy. He kissed my neck, and my legs trembled. I dug my fingers into his back and arched mine, pressing my chest against his. I drank in the feel of his lips on my skin. Goosebumps rose on every inch.

He kissed up to my earlobe. “Please tell me if I go too far.”

I nodded, and his lips found mine again. Gently, he pushed me against the kitchen counter. My fingertips stroked his chest and abs. His muscles flexed under my caress. Neil pulled me closer. Our hips touched. I felt his excitement and moved forward involuntarily, my body yearning for him with a passion that surpassed all words in my brain. Neil groaned and ripped my sweater over my head, his gaze wandering.

Unease pitted in my gut. He was seeing my naked stomach for the first time, my small bump distended over my low-cut jeans.
Please don’t be grossed out. Please don’t turn away.
My hands shook. Nausea swam in my stomach. My eyes burned. But then he kissed my shoulder, and his hands wandered down my back and around my rib cage, stopping on the sides of my belly.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Why those two words unraveled me, I didn’t know. I blamed it on pregnancy hormones. But hearing him say them in the midst of such an intimate moment overwhelmed me. I cried—not a sob, like I’d spent the first three months doing, but quiet and happy, where a few tears rolled down my face while I half-wept, half-laughed.

Neil jerked his hands to my face in seconds and took my cheeks in his palms. He wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Damn it; I told you to warn me if I went too far.” He pressed his forehead against mine. “Baby, please don’t cry.”

I put my hands on his neck. “I’m not upset.”

Pulling back just far enough that he could look at my face, Neil seemed to notice, for the first time, I was smiling. His eyebrows furrowed.

Answering his question before he could ask, I placed one of his hands back on my belly and said, “I was so afraid you were going to run away, but you told me I was beautiful.”

Neil closed his eyes, sighing, and tightened his arms around me. I rested my cheek on his chest. The left side, where the tattoo was. Right over his heart.

“Andie, I can’t begin to tell you what it feels like every time you walk into a room. There aren’t enough words. But you’ve got to know by now: I love you. I have since the third grade, and I always will.”

I beamed, hearing the words leave his lips for the first time.

“I love you, too,” I replied, meaning them with all my soul. I couldn’t say it to Carter the night my life changed, and I was glad to have saved those words for Neil. Because my heart had never hammered so hard, and never before had three little words made me want to run marathons. But with Neil, I felt like I could take on the world.

He snuggled me closer and kissed the top of my head. I listened to his pulse beating fast in his chest.

“So, not to ruin the moment, but your boobs
are
almost naked and touching me, and I’m having a really hard time keeping my hands to myself,” he said.

With a roll of my eyes, I stepped out of his hold. I picked up his shirt and tossed it in his face. He smiled a goofy grin, and I put on my own sweater, trying to hide the blush in my cheeks.

chapter twenty-three

Two weeks later, Mom and I had the house pretty well-packed, except for a small Christmas tree in the living room to give us a little holiday happiness. My baby belly had really started to show, and even empire-waist sweaters couldn’t hide the fact I was pregnant. Everywhere we went, people stared. Usually with sad or judgmental gazes. At first, all I’d want to do is run and hide in the car. Especially when an older woman said I needed Jesus. But after Mom told the woman off, reminding her Jesus loved even those we scoffed at, I began ignoring people. And after Neil squeezed my hand and told me to mentally flip them off, I’d done so when individuals were over-the-line gawking. It made existing in public a little easier.

The few times Jill spotted people’s reactions, she’d used the Force and pretended to make their heads explode. Most people ceased staring, having been called out for being rude. And because Jill usually looked like she was about to crap herself.

She played Obi-Wan Kenobi again as we entered the store to pick up Neil’s birthday present. The clerk jolted in surprise and hurried away.

“You know, one of these days, you’re going to do that to the wrong person, and we’ll get tossed from a store,” I said.

“And I’ll use my Jedi powers to convince him to let us back in. Bada bing, bada boom.”

I shook my head and marched to the musical instruments section in the electronics department.

“What are we getting here again?” Jill asked. “I thought Neil wanted a tobacco pipe.”

“He was joking because he doesn’t want me to get him anything. He stopped smoking a couple months ago when the smell kept making me sick.” I halted when I reached the microphones.

“So, instead, you’re getting him a mic?”

Grabbing one that seemed good—though I had no idea what I was looking at—I spun the box in my hands. “His mom broke the last one. She has . . . anger issues.”
Crap. I probably shouldn’t be telling Jill this.

“No, she has alcohol issues.”

Oh.
I forgot Jill had investigative tendencies. And that was putting it nicely.

“Let me see,” she said, motioning to the microphone I was holding. “I’m a nerd. I know these things.”

I handed it to her with a raised eyebrow.

Flipping it over, she read the specifications. “Don’t get this one.” She stuffed the box on the shelf and pulled off another, glanced at the back, and then handed it to me. “Here.”

I grabbed the box and checked the price. “It’s fifty dollars more.”

“So, take the tag off.”

“Have you met my boyfriend? Price tag or not, he’s going to know how much I spent, and then he’ll kill me.” Especially considering my monetary situation. At least I still had a little money left from my—albeit, measly—savings account. I’d withdrawn all of it so I could afford the few Christmas presents I wanted to buy.