Unclaimed (18 page)

“I have to,” I tell
around my mouthful.  I didn’t hesitate.  I have known that I’m pregnant all of five seconds but I knew I had to tell him.  He’d want to know especially with his family situation.  I had to tell him.  I had no idea how he was going to react though.

Maggie just nods.  So does Skyla.  They understood
.  Neither of them would approve of me keeping it from him.

“Don’t say anything,” I said
to both of them.  “I need to tell him.”  They both agreed to it.  Lincoln needed to hear from me that we are having a baby, not through the gossip chain.  The last thing I wanted was for Skyla to run off and tell her bother that he knocked me up and for him to think I was keeping it from him.

If things weren’t bad enough they just got worse.

Here I was.  21.  College grad, alone, family-less, pregnant.

Chapter 15

Prudence

Two weeks.  Two weeks of attempting to contact Lincoln with no luck.  I called him all the time.  I feel like some sort of crazy ex, like a stalker.  He never answered and I always leave the same message.  “Hi, Lincoln.  It’s Pru.  Please call me.  It’s important.”  I didn’t know what else to say.  This isn’t exactly something you leave on someone’s voicemail.  “Hey Lincoln, remember me, Pru.  Well, you knocked me up.  Give me a call when you get around to it.”  Yeah, I don’t think so.  So I keep calling and leaving the same message because I don’t know what else to say.

I stopped by Dirty Ink
twice both times he wasn’t in.  Jonas told me he was at a tattoo show in Los Angeles, once and the other time Guy just told me he was out.  I didn’t leave a message.  I didn’t know what to say but they said they’d tell him I’d stopped by.

So here I was
two weeks later, desperate to get a hold of him.  I had to tell him.  He deserved to know.  He’d want to know, especially because of his father.  Even if he didn’t want to be involved I couldn’t keep it from him.  If he found out I kept this from him he’d never forgive me.

I had gone to the do
ctor and dragged Maggie along.  The doctor confirmed that I was officially pregnant.  Maggie’d been a lifesaver.  I cried on her shoulder more than once in the past month.  She was always there for me.

So I was officially pregnant, due December 14.

I had to contact Lincoln.  I had to tell him.

I was standing at the front door of his h
ouse.  This was my last resort.  I had to tell him.  If he was going to be a stubborn ass and refuse to call me back then I had to hunt him down.  I knocked on the front door of his house.  I really didn’t want to be here but what choice did I have?

It took a few seconds but the door finally opened and the sight that
greeted me made my chest hurt.  It was Betty, Lincoln’s ex, standing there in nothing but a guy’s t-shirt.  Nothing I could see anyway.  Her hair was tussled like she had just woken up and she was rubbing her eyes.  It was nearly noon.

“Hi,” I said and she
smirked at me.  I wanted to slap her.  She recognized me as well.  Fabulous.  We were not friends nor would we ever be.  “Is Lincoln here?” I asked.  I was doing my best to remain civil.

“Why? 
He’s done with you,” she gloated.  True, we were over and apparently he had bounced back to Betty.  That hurt.

I tried to tell
myself that it didn’t matter.  Lincoln was allowed to sleep with other women.  He was allowed to move on but no matter what I told myself it still hurt.  I was here to tell him about his baby, not get him back, even though I wasn’t against that if it happened.  Clearly that wasn’t even an option any more.  He had moved on.  Maybe he never really loved me after all.

“I
s he here?” I asked again.  I wasn’t here for a confrontation with Betty, the super slut.  I needed to talk to Lincoln no matter who shared his bed.  It wasn’t my business anymore.

She laughed at me.  “No, but he’ll be home later. 
I’ll be sure to tell him that you stopped by,” she was clearly enjoying this.  She won.  She got the guy in the end.

I was on the edge of tears.  I knew it. 
I cried at a drop of a hat these days but Betty didn’t hang around to watch my water works or even let me respond.  I don’t think I could have anyways.  There was no way I was going to get any words around the lump in my throat.  She saved me the embarrassment by slamming the door in my face.

I didn’t
bother to hold back my tears.  There was no one here to see anyway.  I just let them come, the sobs too.  I was broken.  If I held any hope of getting back together with Lincoln it was over now.  He was done.  He had clearly moved on, back to Betty.  We were over.  There was no turning back.

I’d still try to tell him. 
I owed him that.  I owed it to our baby.  But there would be no more stopping by.  I just couldn’t take it.  I had to think of myself.  I couldn’t handle seeing Betty open the door.  Or God forbid see them together.  I don’t know if I’d ever bounce back from that.

I’d call, no more than once a day and that was
where I was drawing the line.  He needed to know but I could only take so much. I had met my limit.

Lincoln

It was the middle of the day on a Saturday.  All the chairs at Dirty Ink were full and there was more than one person hanging out in the lobby waiting for their slot.  We were busy.  It was great.  It gave me a much needed distraction.  Although it wasn’t the great distraction that I’d hoped for.  I still found ways to see Pru in everything I was doing.  I was pathetic.

I was currently doing a flo
ral tramp stamp on this chick.  It was her first tattoo.  It reminded me of Pru in so many ways.  I did her first and only tat.  Both had flowers, although Pru weighed a good hundred pounds less than this chick and was a zillion times hotter.  I was still able to make a connection despite myself.

Everything always came back to Pru.

The shop was loud: people were chatting, music was blaring, the hum of the guns, and the phone was ringing.  I tried to lose myself in my work, in the shop, in the noise, anything to keep me out of my own head.

I h
ad thrown myself into my work.  I had been to every tattoo show possible.  It was either that or spend more quality time with my friend, tequila, who was proving time and time again was not actually my friend.

“Hey big brother,” Skyla said as she rolled a stool over to sit next to me while I worked.

“Hey,” I said not looking over at Skyla even though I knew she was staring a hole in the side of my head.  She didn’t agree with how things ended between Pru and me.  Once I told her the whole story she had hit me and called me an ass.  I couldn’t disagree with her.  I was an ass.  It just proved even more why I didn’t deserve her.

Pru was one of her best friends so I knew this was hard on her.

“How you doin’?” she asked.

“Peachy,” I snapped.
  I broke up with the love of my life.  How did she think I was?  I was crankier than normal.  I was depressed and hurting and angry all the time.

“Good to hear,” she said completely ignoring m
y sarcasm.  I knew she hadn’t missed it though.  Both of us grew quiet.  I had nothing to say to her.  I wanted to ask about Pru but I didn’t want to know.  Sometimes I wish she’d just volunteer the information so I could know without actually having to ask.  Then I could be mad at her for however it made me feel afterwards but that wasn’t going to happen because she never volunteered any information about her.

“Why don’t you answer when she calls?” Skyla asked, never one to beat around the b
ush.  She didn’t have to explain who she was.  I fought the urge to comb my fingers through my hair.

“I have n
othing to say to her,” I said.  That wasn’t entirely true.  I had a ton of things I wanted to say.  I’m sorry.  I love you.  Please forgive me.  I’m an ass.  I’m miserable without you.  Please take me back.

“Well, maybe she has something to say to you, hence why she calls,” Skyla informed me.

“No good could come out of me answering her calls,” I snapped and turned to glare at my sister who was twisting on her stool but didn’t back down from my glare.

“You should talk to her,” she said, ignoring my glare, most
people crumbled under my glare.  She didn’t even flinch just met my gaze eye to eye, perfectly calm, and refusing to let me bait her so we could fight and I could be mad at her too.

“Why?”

She didn’t answer just stared back at me.

Suddenly a hush fell over the entire shop, except for the music, even mos
t of the guns stopped working.  So naturally I turned to see what had silenced everyone.  I had already stopped working to glare at Skyla.  What was one more distraction?

I turned on my stool and found my father standing in the center of the lobby looking every part the rock star.

His face was hard.  He lived a life full of drugs, booze, and hard nights and it showed.  His rock and roll lifestyle had definitely taken its toll physically.  It showed.

His shoulder length brown hair was straigh
t covered with a white fedora.  He had on a black tank top that revealed several tattoos and a white, silky, scarf that had some sort of black design on it.  His jeans looked like they were painted on and his shoes were patent leather mini boots or something.  He looked ridiculous.  He looked like he belonged on a stage somewhere, like a rock star.

What
the hell was he doing here?  The sight of him angered me to the point that I had no words.  I clenched my jaw and glared at him.  What the hell could he possibly want?  Was this just a bizarre coincidence?  Or had he finally decided to make an appearance in my life after twenty-four years?  Give me a break.

I didn’t care who he was, fa
ther or not, rock star or not.  I was busy.  I turned around and went back to my client.  I had a tramp stamp to finish.

I heard
life slowly come back to the tattoo shop and a few people asked him for his autograph.  I wanted to gag or maybe throw something at him.  I hated him more than I knew was possible.  I wanted him the hell out of my shop.

You’d think after hearing my mother’s story that I would cut hi
m some slack but no such luck.  I think I hated him more because of it.

I saw Skyla get up and walk away out of the corner of my eye p
robably to go talk to her dad.  She was actually good enough for him to publically acknowledge.

I took my time on the tramp stamp and finally finished up, sending her on her way, when Jonas approached my station.

“Daddy’s here,” he informed me while he watched me clean up.  For me?

“I noticed.”  I didn’t look back at my dad. 
I stayed focused on my station and the job at hand.  I was purposely not looking at him.

“He asked
for you,” Jonas informed me.  Fabulous.  He was actually here to see me.

“I’m busy,” I forced out between clenched teeth
.  He had ignored me for my entire life.  I was going to ignore him.

“No you’re not.
I looked.  You have no more appointments for the day.  You could do a walk-in but you need a break.  Talk to your dad Lincoln.  Hear what he has to say,” Jonas said as he headed off for his own station.  What the hell?

I fin
ally turned to look at my dad.  He was sitting in the lobby area with few clients drooling over him.  I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a deep breath.

Skyla was nowhere in
sight she must have taken off.  She hated her connection with him.  I found it kind of ironic.  She hated her connection with him and I had wanted nothing more my entire life.  Now that he was here, I just wanted him gone.

I wanted him out of my shop. 
I guess the easiest way to do that was to talk to him, see what he wanted then send him on his way.

The only good part of him being here was I wasn’t currently thinking about Pru.

I headed over to him and when he saw me coming his way he stood up.

I walked right up to him and we stood
toe to toe, eyeing each other.  He was taking me in.  I was more or less giving him the stank eye.

“Can we talk?” he asked p
olitely.  I wanted to say no but for some reason Pru popped into my head pushing me to talk to him.  I could hear her voice in my head. 
Just listen to what he has to say
.

So much for not thinking about Pru.

“I guess,” I said.  “Not here.”  I didn’t need his drama in my work place.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he sugges
ted so that’s what we did.  I called to Jonas that I was out and followed my father out the door of the shop.  Thankfully his groupies didn’t join us.

We walked for a long time and neither of u
s spoke.  I shoved my hands in my pockets to keep from running them through my hair.  What do you say to your father who you resent?  A man that had never taken the time to speak to you before?  I thought about it several times and then I finally get the chance to let him have it and I’m speechless.

He finally stopped and sat on a bench I f
ell down next to him, kind of.  We were sitting on complete opposite ends of the bench.  Any farther and I would be sitting on the ground.

“Your mother called,” he started after a few m
ore awkward moments of silence.  He stretched out so his arm was resting on the back of the bench and his legs were extended in front of him, crossed at the ankle.  He looked perfectly at ease.  Me not so much.  My elbows were resting on my knees, my hands clasped together between my legs as I watched him.

“So mom calls and you just rush over suddenly?” I asked and r
an my fingers through my hair.  I was ready to tell him to shove it and walk off.

He smiled like he knew I was about to blow.